Jax that it’s okay that he’s reading my list.
Ask Jax if he’s okay.
Tell Jax to stop flaring his nostrils because he’s realizing I’m writing messages to him.
I groaned, taking my eyes from her notebook. “You’re weird.”
“I think that was one of your favorite qualities about me.”
I stayed quiet.
She kept pushing. “Are you okay?” she asked.
“What happened to no talking?”
“You know I struggle with that.”
I shook my head. “I don’t know much about you anymore. We were kids back then. A lot has changed.”
“Like what?” she questioned.
I looked into her honey-colored eyes and for a moment I didn’t want to turn away. I wanted to hug her, too. I wanted to tell her everything that unfolded over the years. I wanted to let her in on the heaviness of my heartaches. I wanted a friend.
I needed a friend, but I didn’t deserve one.
“It doesn’t matter what’s changed,” I said. “All that matters is that change has happened.”
“Are you okay, Jax?” she asked again, this time her voice coated with the sincerest care and kindness I’d heard in some time.
“It’s none of your concern.”
“I want it to be, though.” She placed a hand against my arm, and a shot of lightning struck my soul. Her simple touch sent an electric current though my whole system, straight to my heart to try to bring it back to life.
“If you need to talk, Jax,” she offered again, and I let her hand linger for a moment because the warmth felt healing.
Why didn’t Amanda’s touch do that to me?
I pulled my arm away from Kennedy as the cold returned to me. I clasped my hands together and lowered my head as my knuckles turn white. More moments of unspoken words. Then, the mumbles slowly released from my lips.
“My father is dying,” I confessed.
“Yes. Joy mentioned that. I’m so sorry, Jax.”
“He’s an asshole. Or at least he was before all of this.”
“And now?”
“Now, he’s just there and he has nothing.”
“He has you.”
“I’ve never been enough for him before, so I doubt I’d be enough now.”
What was I doing? Why was I talking about this? Before she could reach out to send another current through my system, I stood. My brows knotted, I stuffed my hands into my jeans pockets, and I began mentally retreating back to my lonely self.
“You need to stay off my property,” I told her. “If you don’t, I will get law enforcements involved.”
She stood, too. “Moon, I—”
“Don’t call me Moon,” I snapped. “Leave, Kennedy.”
Her shoulders dropped and I tried to not look her way. I couldn’t look at her, because if I did I would’ve begged her not to go.
“I’m sorry. I figured you could’ve used a friend,” she said.
“I don’t need a friend,” I replied as a faint whisper left me. “I don’t need anyone. Remember? Town asshole here. Not interested in making friendship bracelets with you.”
14
Kennedy
“No,” I called out as Jax began to walk away.
He turned to face me and tilted his head. “What?”
“I said no. You don’t get to walk away right now.”
“Have you lost your mind?” he barked, his voice coated with anger. Or was it pain? His eyes read pain while his voice screamed annoyance.
“A long time ago, but that’s beside the point. The point is, you need to sit down and come talk to me.”
“I’m not going to,” he ordered. “And if you don’t leave my property now—”
“You’re going to call the cops, yeah, yeah, yeah, yadda, yadda, yadda, I get it, Jax. This is your role in this town. You’re the big bad wolf. The cold, hard man who doesn’t let anyone in, but I know you. The real you. That kind, sensitive boy is still in there. I know you’re not a real asshole.”
“Can you just go back home and pretend we don’t know each other?”
“No, I can’t, because I can tell you’ve been carrying a lot on your shoulders for a long time.”
He turned to me with a look of heaviness in his eyes. A look that never really leaves his stare. It’d been there since the first day we’d crossed paths in those woods. I could’ve only imagined how long that pain lived within him.
“I get it,” he said. “You feel as if there’s some kind of soul connection bullshit between us because we went to camp all those years ago, but that fact is null and void because I am nothing like the kid I was all those years ago.”
“And I’m nothing like the girl I was,” I agreed.
“Your colorful as