Page 62 of Southern Storms

“Oh?”

“Stop it, Eddie. That’s not why I’m here. I’m not here to talk about my past with Kennedy or dive deep into my psyche. My visit actually has nothing to do with me.”

“Then…why are you…?”

“She needs your help.”

Eddie scratched at the side of his salt and pepper beard. “Jax, that’s not how it works.”

“She went through a trauma. She lost both of her parents and her daughter in a car accident that she blames herself for. She can’t even see a child without being hit with a panic attack. Joy told me Kennedy doesn’t drive because of the accident, and she hasn’t spoken to anyone professional about her issues.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Jax, but I can’t offer her help without her—”

“You don’t have to therapist her, Eddie. Just…I don’t fucking know—be nosy like the rest of the people in this town and go check on her out of neighborly kindness. She’s broken and just needs someone to talk to.”

“Can she talk to you?”

“I don’t know how to fix her.”

“I don’t either, Jax. Plus, as a therapist, we don’t fix people, because in my mind, they aren’t broken. They are just complex.”

“Yeah, well, just go see about her complexities.”

“Ja—”

“Fuck, Eddie,” I shouted, jumping up from the couch. I gestured in the direction of Kennedy’s house. “She’s drowning. She’s in that house alone, and she’s drowning in her memories and guilt. I know what that’s like. I know what it’s like to drown from all of that shit, but at least I had you to go to. At least I had someone to talk to over the years. Kennedy has no one. Please, Eddie. Just…” I sighed and rubbed my hands down my face. “Help her.”

I looked his way and saw the guilt sitting in his eyes.

He wasn’t going to help her.

Fuck.

“You know what? Never mind. It was stupid for me to come over here. Sorry for wasting your time.”

“You didn’t waste my time, Jax. This is good. This is all good for your progress,” he said as he pushed himself up from his chair.

“My progress? I told you this wasn’t about me.”

He gave me a knowing look, and I hated it.

“She was your best friend,” he stated. “It’s not shocking that your feelings have resurfaced about her with her arrival in town. That’s completely normal, and you don’t have to be freaked out by your feelings. Your concern is warranted.”

“I’m not freaked out by my feelings because I’m not feeling anything about it. What don’t you get? I’m fine. I healed. I did my therapy.”

“You healed?” he asked, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his slacks.

“Yes. I did the work. I got better.”

He narrowed his eyes and swayed back and forth. “How are things with your father, Jax?”

My hands formed fists and my nails began digging into my skin. “Don’t do that, Eddie.”

“Do what?”

He knew exactly what I meant. I didn’t have to talk to him about my father. I was dealing with it. I was getting through it. I was fine. I was more than okay. I was better. It was Kennedy who needed his therapist stares. It was her who was falling apart.

“Forget it. I’m leaving. Thanks,” I muttered, walking toward his front door.

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