Chapter 14

Joey

 

“For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, flipping the light switch off and on half a dozen times to no avail.

With a flashlight in hand so I can see the fuse box, I head toward the garage and stop when another clap of thunder is quickly followed by a knock on the front door. Coen, Ella, and Hayden left after the insulation team did, suggesting I relax and enjoy the takeout Chinese they ordered for me. I was planning on doing just that once I finished getting the Sheetrock in the living room up, but then the damn lights went out.

I swing the door open and come face-to-face with Kennedy. Her hair is still pulled back in the same braid I tugged this morning, but it’s now wet. She’s breathing hard, and her legs are covered with small leaves and bits of grass.

My heart staggers and then pounds. “Are you okay?” I ask, pulling her inside and glancing around the yard behind her.

“Yeah.” She runs a hand over the top of her head, slicking small pieces of hair that had fallen loose from her braid. “Sorry to bother you guys, I just want to make sure you knew about the storm coming since the power went out. I knew you guys were operating with kind of limited resources over here.”

“Is that what killed the power?”

Kennedy nods. “I heard it’s a blackout.”

Thunder echoes again, rumbling for several seconds before the skies appear to part, and rain pours down, ricocheting off the doorstep and into the house. I pull Kennedy farther into the house and close the door to keep it from seeping inside.

“Shit, did it get dark fast.”

“Do you guys have flashlights?” she asks.

“I have one in my truck.”

“If you give me your keys, I’ll grab it. I’m already soaked.”

“I’ll get it. You head toward the garage. The door’s unlocked.”

Kennedy’s eyebrows rise high with question. “The garage?”

“I’m staying in the room above it. There’s nothing in here. No furniture, food, nothing.”

“Where are Coen and Ella and Hayden?” She looks past me into the house.

“They went to North Carolina for a couple of days. Hayden’s dad lives down there, and they’ve been working on the visitation.”

“Oh.” She runs her hand over her wet hair again as her eyes dart around the room. It’s clear this visit was impulsive and has her uncomfortable.

“Run toward the garage,” I tell her again, bringing her to focus back on me.

“That’s okay. I just wanted to make sure you guys were okay and prepared for the storm. It can take the city a while to get power back.”

“Wait until the rain lets up, and I’ll drive you home.”

“It’s okay. Like I said, I’m already soaked.”

Thunder rumbles again, so loud the house shakes. Lightning quickly chases it.

“Yeah, you’re not running through the woods right now. That lightening is close.”

“The chances of getting hit by lightning are slim to zero.”

“Yet it still happens. Plus, it’s going to be slipperier than snot out there.” I open the front door, and the rain falls in sheets.

“On the count of three.”

“One—”

“Three!” Kennedy yells, then bolts, racing toward the garage.

I pull the door closed behind me and lock it out of habit before sprinting to my truck, the rain quickly dousing me and making visibility nearly impossible. The light turns on as soon as the driver’s side door is open, and I contemplate if we should wait out the storm in here, where we can use the air conditioning and lights. Another crack of thunder hits, and it’s as though it flips a switch in the sky, the winds turn direction, hitting me from the side. A loud snap is followed by a thud as a tree branch falls. I snatch the flashlight from under my seat and run toward the garage, where Kennedy is waiting with the door held slightly ajar.

The flashlight provides a small tunnel of light amid the cramped space that is currently stacked with boxes of Ella and Coen’s things that didn’t fit into the large storage units.

“The stairs are over to our left,” I tell her, pointing the flashlight in the direction we need to go.

Slowly, Kennedy moves toward them, looking more hesitant than she had when I suggested she stay.

Water drips from both of us as we climb the steep wooden steps.

“Go on in, it’s open.”

Kennedy turns the handle, her movements stalled by uncertainty.

I want to ask her what has her so timid. If it’s me or the storm or simply the situation that has her so uncomfortable, but I stop when I consider Arianna or one of my other sisters in this same situation. How would I feel about the guy if I heard the story of what Kennedy and I have shared? What would I think about him if I knew they’d spent so little time together, and he’d seen her topless and was insisting she stay with him in the middle of a storm with no one else around?

Then the realization that Kennedy chose to come here, just like I chose to go into the hardware store this morning when I didn’t have an excuse or reason aside from seeing her.

How can I be nearing thirty-four and still not understand women?

“Come on in.” My fingers brush her lower back as I move around her, shining the flashlight around the small space that’s perfumed with the scents of Chinese food. “Welcome to my abode.”

Kennedy laughs quietly, following the light with her eyes. “I had no idea this place was up here.”

“I think it’s the sole reason Coen bought this place. He wanted to make sure if any of our family ever came to stay with him, we’d be far, far away.” The skies are a deep gray, filtering enough light in through the windows that we’d be able to see without the flashlight, but I leave it on.

Kennedy smiles. “Everyone needs one of these.”

“Are you hungry? Ella and Coen dropped off some Chinese food before they left, and Coen always orders for a family of ten.”

She stays still, shaking her head. “I actually ate before we went to the pond.” Her eyes round. “Shoot! Can I use your phone? I need to contact my mom or Violet and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yeah.” I retrieve it from my back pocket. “Of course.”

Kennedy cradles my phone, staring at the screen, which has a picture of all my siblings and me. She lifts her eyes to mine, a smile teasing her lips. “Is this your family?”

“The whole lot. This is Arianna, my twin sister—”

“You have a twin sister?”

I nod. “And this is Mia, and Sofia, and Cariana.” I stare at the picture for a moment, recalling the moment it was taken. The jokes Coen had been making that Mom was threatening him for. “Cariana passed away a few weeks after this was taken.”

Kennedy’s gaze snaps to mine, surprise and sorrow has her lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m so sorry,” she says. “I had no idea.”

I shake my head. “I appreciate it.”

“And that”—I point to where Coen is flexing, a ridiculous and cheesy grin covering his face—“is Coen.”

She laughs, likely getting a better understanding of the goofball my younger brother often is. “You guys look so happy.”

“We’re lucky. I know lots of people who have siblings they barely speak to, but we all genuinely like each other. I mean, don’t get me wrong, there are times we still yell and scream at each other, but all in all we enjoy spending time together. Like you and Grace.”

Kennedy stares at the screen again.

“You should call them. Let them know I’ll bring you home once it dies down. If this is anything like DC, the weather will change in about five minutes.”

She dials a number and then places the phone to her ear, and I wonder whom she decided to reach out to. Whom does she trust and rely on?

“Hey, Mom. It’s me, Kennedy.”

Her mom’s voice is muffled as she says something that has Kennedy nodding. “Yeah, I’m over at the DeLucas’. This is Joey’s phone.” She nods again. “Yeah, I didn’t know if they had a radio or anything going, and the storm touched down right after I got here.” She pauses again, nodding some more. “Yeah. I will. I’ll be home as soon as it slows.” Her head pulls back, and she looks toward the large window over my bed. “Really?” Her voice rises as her eyes widen, stopping on me. “Is everyone okay?” She waits again. “Okay. Well, if you need to get a hold of me, you’ll have to call me on this number. I left mine at the house.” Again, she nods. “Okay. Bye, Mom.”

Kennedy extends the phone to me and brushes the side of her face, as if she’s expecting to push up her glasses that are missing due to her having gone to the pond.

“Is everything okay?”

Her wide green eyes seem larger with the dimmed lighting drawing attention to each of her features, which I trace with my eyes. “They said several trees have fallen and that we need to stay put. That the weather advisory says it’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Did she say how long they’re expecting it to last?”

She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes darting to the window. “A few hours.”

A few hours.

Her words settle slowly, a million thoughts attached to them, the first one being, “How’d you find out there was a storm while you were swimming?”

Her eyebrows rise high on her forehead and her lips part. I’m sure if her skin wasn’t gray tones from the lack of light, her cheeks would be flushed. “I didn’t. I mean, they’ve been talking about a storm for a week now, and I figured it wasn’t happening. Violet and I were swimming down at the pond, and Jackson found us on his way to my parents’.”

I consider the layout of the town. “Your dad mentioned that Jackson lives over near the bluff.”

Kennedy nods. “He does. Over by the small motel you see coming into town.”

“Cutting through the woods would take him twice as long as going through town.” My heart hammers, knowing this isn’t the first time he’s taken the same long path.

“Who knows? It’s Jackson.” She brushes a stray raindrop from her face and grins.

“Something about the guy is just off.”

She pulls her head back, her lips falling into a frown. “Like what?”

“He’s like your shadow. Even that day in the parking lot, he was there.”

“There’s only one grocery store in town.”

“But why was he there?”

Kennedy raises her eyebrows, looking at me like I’m crazy. “You think he’s following me?”

“Think about it!”

A smile teases her lips. “I am. But this is Haven Point. I see everyone a couple of times a day.”

“You don’t find it strange that he randomly just appears?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t. I see him all the time because we work together, and he used to swim in the pond with Grace and me. Believe me, he doesn’t have any negative or bad intentions.”

“Then what are his intentions?”

She hesitates, the delicate skin between her eyes wrinkling with thought. “You have to remember that we’ve known each other forever, and he’s been working for my parents for years. Jackson’s like an honorary member of my family. Sure, bad things happen in situations like this—I get that. But Jackson’s a good guy.”

I’m inclined to tell her how many times I’ve heard from victims and their families how great they thought a person was before they did something terrible, but then I consider Coen’s remark of me creating an enemy for him.

“I bet it’s really difficult to trust anyone when you’ve seen and heard what you have.” Kennedy’s tone is soft and gentle, conveying an understanding that has me leaning back on my heels.

The truth is, every day my trust grows thinner.

“I bet it’s really hard since you can’t tell many people about it, either.”

It’s as though she’s crawled into my goddamn mind.

She drops a single shoulder, and the tail of her braid falls behind her back, elongating the curve of her neck. “You know how when you were a kid the worst part about being in trouble was seeing the disappointment on your mom’s face? That look like you’d personally hurt her and damaged the way she saw you? Well, Haven Point is kind of like that. This town is so small and so full of history that if someone does something, everyone knows. Everyone. I think that’s why crime doesn’t happen here. It’s not because it’s sleepy and forgotten, but because no one wants to disappoint the town. No one wants to tarnish the reputation or breach the trust that’s been created.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that people are good.”

Kennedy presses her lips into a thin line. “Not everyone is.”

I expel a deep breath. “Isn’t that the truth.”

“But you can let your guard down while you’re here, especially with Jackson. He’s good people.” Another raindrop follows her hairline and drips to her shoulder.

“You’re soaked,” I tell her.

Her full lips curve into that smile that makes it difficult for me to think straight. “So are you.” She waves a hand over me.

“Come on, I’ve got some gym shorts and a T-shirt you can wear.” I lead her over to the small dresser against the far wall. I hand her a dark DC Police Department shirt and a pair of mesh shorts along with the flashlight. “There’s a restroom right through there.” I point toward a narrow white door behind us.

She turns, and I reach for another clean shirt to replace mine.

“Are you sure about this?”

I look over my shoulder to see her paused in front of the bathroom door. I’ve already tossed my wet shirt on top of the hamper. Kennedy’s gaze travels down my chest, and I wait until she’s finished before asking, “Sure about what?”

She blinks several times and then looks over my shoulder instead of at me. I wonder if I affect her as much as she does me.

“I don’t know.” Kennedy moves to slide her glasses up again, only to realize they still aren’t there. “I intended to just stop by, not stay for several hours. I could—”

“That’s okay. It’s nice to have someone here.”

Her head tilts as if she’s trying to read my sincerity.

“It’s nice having you here,” I tell her.

She smiles, and though it’s not as wide as others I’ve seen, there’s a genuineness and sincerity that makes it my new favorite.

Once the door is closed behind her, I lift an arm to smell myself and cringe. It was hotter than hell in the house today with so many people. Even with the air conditioning cranked high and box fans running, the air couldn’t manage to keep up with all the work we were doing. In addition to that, there’s no job messier than hanging drywall. The dust managed to get everywhere.

Kennedy steps out of the bathroom with my shirt falling to the middle of her thighs, and suddenly a shower is even more necessary—a very cold shower. Her blonde hair looks almost gold in contrast to the dark shirt, and her long, lean legs tease with the idea of being bare. “I, um . . . just left my shorts on.”

She doesn’t admit that mine were too big for her, just carefully places the folded shorts on the corner of my bed. I take three more passes over her legs before I can lift my gaze all the way to her face. Her lips are pulled into another thin line, exposing her discomfort.

“You’re different,” I tell her. “You’re like those Sour Patch candies, where one bite is so sweet and the next is so sour.”

Once again, her eyelashes flutter with thought.

Perhaps it’s because my job requires so much vagueness and solitude, a complete contrast to how I was raised and who I am, that I am openly telling her, “I’ve never met anyone like you.”

Her chin tilts and her eyes slit. “How have I been sour?”

I chuckle. “You know exactly when you’re being sour. You purse your lips”—I point toward my mouth—“just like you are right now. And your eyes become laser beams of pure, unadulterated hatred.”

“You cause this”—she waves a hand over her face, searching for the right word—“sourness.” She closes her eyes, like saying the word was a chore. “No one else in Haven Point would tell you I’m difficult or sour.”

I smile. “I know.”

She glares at me.

“When you’re being sour, you’re usually the most honest with me. I like that.”

Kennedy’s scowl softens, revealing hints of her sweeter side.

“I know you said you weren’t hungry, but if you change your mind, please help yourself. I’m going to take a really fast shower.”

“You should be able to get hot water. The tanks usually last at least eight hours.”

“I’m kind of hoping it’s cold,” I admit.