“It’s catchy,” I muttered.
“Holy balls, you just said Taylor Swift was catchy! The world is officially ending. So, tell me all about it.”
“I’m not telling you anything about it because there’s nothing to tell,” I said as I put the truck into park and climbed out. I headed to the bed of my pickup and grabbed my toolkit.
Connor hurried over to me with his cell phone in his grip and shoved it in my face. “Then what is this?”
I glanced at the photograph on the page and narrowed my eyes before snatching it out of his hold. “How did you get this?” I was staring at a picture of Kennedy and me kissing on the street the previous night. What kind of low-budget paparazzi did we have in this hellish town?
“It started circulating around town last night. And to think you said nothing happened.”
“Nothing did happen,” I repeated. Connor gave me a You are a damn liar smirk, and I rolled my eyes. “Nothing that I’m telling you about, at least.”
“Wow, that’s harsh. I tell you everything, buddy.”
“Yeah, and I kind of wish you’d stop doing that, if I’m honest.”
“Whatever. You love hearing my stories. So, tell me all about it. Was it everything you thought your first time would be?” he mocked. I was this close to cussing him out—except I couldn’t stop smirking like a damn fool. Connor played on my happiness, too. “Oh my gosh, I’m so proud of you, champ. I remember my first time like it was yesterday.”
“It probably was yesterday. Besides, we didn’t sleep together. We just…kissed.”
He paused his footsteps and raised a confused brow. “Wait—time out. You’re this happy because of just kissing a girl?”
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
He shook his head in disappointment. “I expected more from you, Jax. Come to me when you’re a real man.”
“Hey, Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“Shut up.”
“Okay, boss.”
* * *
The day passed by slowly, but we didn’t have any major plumbing issues to deal with, which made me happy. Nothing could ruin a day like pipes backed up with shit. After I dropped Connor off, I headed toward Dad’s nursing home to check on him. Truthfully, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing Amanda, because I knew if Connor had the photograph of Kennedy and me kissing, it’d probably found its way to her, too.
Right when I walked inside, the daggers Amanda shot my way made me fully aware that I was right in my assumption.
“Just a friend, huh?” she sneered, rolling her eyes as she flipped through a magazine.
I walk to the front desk, and even though I didn’t feel as if I owed her an explanation about Kennedy and me, I knew she deserved it. Amanda had never been nasty while we were together. We just came from different backgrounds. We had differing beliefs. When she talked about kids, she talked about how she wanted to shape them into what she wanted them to become—doctors, athletes, politicians.
I didn’t agree with that idea.
I wanted to have a kid who was happy and allowed to be whatever he wanted.
Plus, when it came to passion between Amanda and me, it was lacking. I didn’t get elated when I knew I would see her. I didn’t feel as if she was the person I wanted to spend forever with. I didn’t see a future.
She deserved someone who looked at her as if she were every star in the sky—and unfortunately, I wasn’t that guy.
“I’m sorry if hearing about Kennedy and me hurt you, Amanda. You know I would never want to do that.”
She kept frowning. “Yeah, well, still hurt.”
I grimaced and skimmed my hand through my hair. “Listen, count yourself lucky. I’m an asshole. You’re better off without me.”
“I know that, Jax. I’m not stupid. It’s just…” Her voice lowered and she shook her head. “You never did that with me.”
“Did what?”
“Laughed. We never laughed together.”
“Sure we did,” I offered. There was no way we hadn’t laughed together. We’d dated for nearly two years—there had to have been some laughter.
“No, we didn’t, and you damn sure didn’t look at me the way you looked at that girl. I’m sorry for slapping you, okay? I just…that’s what I wanted. What you gave to her is what I wanted.”
“You’ll get that, Amanda. There’s someone out there who will give you everything you deserve and more. You deserved more than what I gave you.”
“Damn right I do.” She chuckled. “Anyway, good luck.”
I thanked her and headed to see Dad. Lately, when I arrived, he’d been in bed already. It wasn’t a good visit, and his mumbles were about how his kid was a fuck up.
“Fuu-ck up,” he said. “Ja-x fuu-ck up,” he kept repeating. I tried my best to ignore it, but when it became too much, I stepped out of his room, pulled up a chair outside of his door, and waited. I’d wait until he was sleep, then I’d read to him. Amanda noticed me and frowned, but I was glad when she didn’t approach me. I didn’t want her comfort. Seriously, I wished Kennedy was sitting beside me to give me that electric shock.
When Dad was asleep, I went back inside the room. He was looking weaker and weaker each visit, and I knew things were on the decline. I did my best not to think about it and read him the chapters for the night. I was getting close to the end of the novel, so I began reading slower.
Funny how I could have a wonderful day then leave the nursing facility feeling drained. Normally, after my visits, I went home or to the woods. In the past, I never wanted to be alone, but that was how I felt I had to be. Recently, I didn’t feel that same tug of loneliness, and if I was going to be alone, I wanted to be alone with her.
I pulled into Kennedy’s driveway and put the truck into park. I headed up to her porch and rang the doorbell. When she answered, she was already in her pajamas, looking beautiful as ever.
“Hey, you.” She smiled. “How was your visit with your dad?”
I shrugged. “I don’t really want to talk about it. I was just hoping I could hang out here for a bit because I didn’t want to go home tonight. My mind is moving a bit fast after seeing the shape he’s in, so I thought maybe I could crash here for a while.”
“Of course, Jax. You never have to ask.”
Before I could walk into her house, she was on the porch wrapping me in her arms, and for the first time in my life, I realized home wasn’t a place, it was a person. When I was lost that night, I ran away to Kennedy, and lucky for me, she let me in.
24
Jax
Thirteen years old
I wished Mom wasn’t at work.
I wished Derek wasn’t at football practice.
I wished I wasn’t home alone with Dad. I hated being home alone with Dad.
“For fuck’s sake. Would you stop shaking already? You’re going to scare the damn thing off,” Dad said from behind me. He steadied my hands on the gun. The deer lingered in front of me with its head down, eating something, maybe grass or a branch?
What do deer eat? Fruit? Berries? Do they eat as a family sometimes and carry food home with them? Or are they only supposed to look out for themselves?
“Steady your grip,” Dad hissed against my ear. His rough voice snapped me out of my thoughts. The deer looked up and hesitated for a moment. He stretched his neck up and started chewing on a twig from a tree.
Twigs! They eat twigs!
“Look at that beauty, Jax. That’s a solid white-tailed deer.”
My heart pounded hard in my chest, because the deer was a beauty—so why would I kill it? What had that animal done to me? Nothing. It didn’t look like it did anything to anyone. I looked up to Dad and saw how proud he seemed. I couldn’t think of the last time he looked proud around me, and I didn’t want to let him down.
Dad said real men go hunting, and I wanted to be a real man like him. Derek was off at football practice and Mom was working late at the diner, so it was just Dad and me at home in our woods.
I wasn’t even sure we were allowed to hunt in June, but Dad told me it was his land so he was allowed to do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
My eyes focused in on the deer. It was becoming harder and harder for me to breathe. It felt like someone had put their hand in my chest, grabbed my heart, and promised to only let go if I made a choice.
Be a man or be a pussy.
The animal stood there, minding its own business as I stalked it in the shadows made by the bushes.
“I don’t want to,” I whispered, my shaking returning. It wasn’t fair. The deer hadn’t done anything. We had food in our house. We didn’t need it. We weren’t hungry. I wasn’t hungry. I wasn’t hungry… “Please no,” I softly said again, maybe to myself, maybe to God.
“Come on. Derek killed three all on his own last year. If you don’t do it, you can be damn sure you’re not going to camp later this week. Don’t be a little shit,” Dad said, threatening me with the one thing he knew would hurt me. I didn’t want to miss camp with Kennedy. I’d been waiting all year for it.
When the deer looked back down to the ground to find more twigs, I lowered my gun. I didn’t know if Dad saw it, but right behind the whitetail was a baby deer. Her doe eyes were wide, and she looked scared. My eyes filled with tears. I can’t do it.
“Fuckin’ A, Jax,” Dad said before lowering himself to the ground with his gun that was twice as big as mine, if not three times bigger. He zoned in on the deer. I felt my stomach flip and a nasty taste of vomit settled in my throat. I did my best to push it back down, swallowing hard. I stood and almost lost my balance from standing too fast. My eyes locked with the baby deer who seemed to be invisible to my dad. I shook my head back and forth.
I can’t!
I can’t let it happen! I can’t let the deer die!
In a panic, I started waving my arms and shouting. “No! Run! Run!” I screamed, the back of my throat feeling strained and sore. The deer looked alarmed and started to move. I jumped up and down, trying to flag it to run and never look back, but it was too late. Dad’s gun fired and the deer only made it a few feet before it fell over to the ground.
My eyes moved to where the baby deer was standing a few minutes ago. She was gone, now.
“What the hell, kid?” Dad yelled at me. He stood and slapped me on the back of my head. “Pack up your shit and wait here.” I listened to him mutter under his breath about me.
He walked toward the deer.
The dead deer.
The dead deer that Dad killed.
I bent over and proceeded to throw up my breakfast and lunch, and probably some of last night’s dinner. I hated this. I hated hunting. I hated the deer for being stupid and not running fast enough. I hated Derek for being better than me. I hated Mom for not being home when Dad dragged me to the woods. I hated Dad for not liking me the way I was. I hated myself for letting him down.
Maybe I hated myself a little more than anything else.
* * *
“You shouldn’t have made him do that,” Mom scolded later at the house as I wrapped my arms around the top of the staircase. She and Dad stood in the living room pacing back and forth. They’d been fighting about me for the past hour. Mom had come home and found me crying into my pillow, and she’d embraced me tightly, telling me everything would be okay.
“It’s a damn shame that he’s like this! His brother shot his first deer when he was much younger than Jax!”
“But he’s not Jax,” she swore. “Jax is different. He’s sensitive.”
“He’s a sissy.”
“Don’t talk about my son like that,” she ordered with a very stern voice.
“Oh, so now he’s your son?” Dad shot back.
“He is when you treat him like this.” Mom’s voice cracked and she crossed her arms, looking down at the carpet. “You know what I mean, Cole.”
“No, I don’t think I do.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s funny, Derek isn’t even my son by blood, but he feels more like mine than my own damn kid.”
“Don’t say things like that. Plus, it’s different. Derek is way older than Jax. That’s not a fair comparison.”
Dad grumbled something I couldn’t hear then pushed his hands through his hair. “Unless you want to make him more of a bitch than he already is, let me handle raising the boy to be a boy. He’s a pussy because you keep babying him, Elizabeth. This is your doing.”
“I’m not going to do this. I’m not going to listen to you talk down about Jax because he doesn’t take up the same hobbies as you.”
“His head is always in a book! He cries over fucking fishing because he thinks the fish is being harmed! I mean, fuck, he cried during The Lion King last week because Mufasa fucking died! Boys don’t cry over The Lion King. He’s a weak little shit, and you’re lucky I’m here to man him up.”
“He doesn’t need to man up. He’s perfect the way he is.”
“No. He’s weak. You’re weakening him. Just watch—watch him never achieve anything because of your mothering. You’re ruining him.”
They kept fighting, and I felt awful about it. A knot settled in my stomach. I headed back to my bedroom and cried into my pillow some more.
“Stop crying, loser,” I sobbed to myself. “Just be a man.”
Mom and Dad fought more and more about me. They never fought about my older brother, maybe because he was more like Dad. Maybe it was because he was good at sports, maybe because he was strong.
Strong.
I wanted to be strong. I needed to be strong.
* * *
“You okay, sweetheart?” Mom asked, peering into my bedroom. It was already past my bedtime, but I couldn’t sleep. My head and heart hurt too much to sleep that night.
“He hates me,” I whispered.
Mom walked over to me and crawled into bed beside me. She wrapped her arms around my body and held me close to her. “Your father doesn’t hate you, Jax. He’s just…” She took a deep breath. “He was raised differently, that’s all. He thinks certain things make a person a man, but he’s wrong.”
“I’m not a man.”
“You’re right, you’re not.” She leaned forward and kissed my nose. “You’re a handsome boy who’s just learning about yourself, that’s all.”
“But I want to be strong like Dad and Derek. I want to be better than me.”
“Strong? Jax Kilter, you’re the strongest boy I know,” she promised, nuzzling her nose to mine. “You know what makes you strong?”
“What?”
“Your heartbeats. The way you love animals and don’t want anything bad to happen to them. The way you say please and thank you. The way you hold doors open for people. The way you laugh out loud when reading a funny book and reread the parts out loud so I can laugh, too. The way you share your favorite jokes with me. The way you love your mama.” She smiled. “You might be the strongest boy I’ve ever known, and one day you’re going to be the strongest man, too. Don’t let your father get to you. You’re not any less of a man just because you aren’t like him or your brother.”
I wanted to believe her, but it was hard.
“Do you know you’re my best friend, Jax?” she asked.
I knew. I figured she just said it because she had to, but she was my best friend, too.
Mom was my only friend, other than Kennedy. She was always looking out for me, even when I knew she wasn’t. No matter what, Mom was always there for me.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too, Jax. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What would you think if you, Derek, and me got our own place?”
My eyes widened. “Without Dad there?”
She frowned and nodded her head. I saw tears fill her eyes. “Yeah. I think it would be good for us. I’m getting my landscaping business up and running soon, and you can be my righthand man to help me out. We can start a new life without your father. Of course, he’d always be in your life, Jax, but we�
��d just have our own place to stay.”
“You’re leaving Cole?”
I looked up to see Derek standing in the doorway with panic in his eyes.
Mom stood from the bed and walked over to him. “Derek, nothing has been decided yet and—”
“You can’t leave him! You can’t do this. I already lost a dad, and you can’t make me do it again. I’m not going. I’m staying here with Cole.”
“Calm down, Derek. Nothing has been deci—”
“It’s because of him, isn’t it?” he asked, gesturing toward me. “It’s because he’s a freak. I know that’s why you and Cole fight all the time.”
“Derek!” Mom hissed. “Don’t you dare speak about your brother like that!”
“Why not? You know it’s true. You treat him like he’s not a weirdo when he is. Cole’s right—he is a little bitch.”
Mom gripped Derek by the arm, not tightly, but firmly. “Apologize to your brother right now.”
“Why? I’m just telling the truth.”
“Derek,” she scolded, but he didn’t let up. Mom dropped her hold on his arm and pointed out the door. “Go to your bedroom, and don’t for a second think about going to football practice for the rest of the week. You’re grounded.”
“What? No way! We have a game on Friday, and if I’m not at practices, I can’t play.” He groaned as his face reddened in anger.
“You should have thought about that before speaking about your brother that way.”
“This fucking sucks,” he muttered, stomping away in irritation.
“Make that two weeks!” Mom hollered. Shortly after that, Derek’s bedroom door slammed shut.
Mom sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
“He’s right,” I said. “It’s all because of me.”
Southern Storms Page 19
