Page 13 of Son of a Preacher Man
The therapist motioned for him to take the chair across from her. He dragged himself over and reluctantly slumped into it.
“So, Seth…”
“It’s Kodiak,” he corrected. “There’s only one person who can call me that.”
“You’ll always be my Seth.”
“Oh, I see.”
Did she? No, she couldn’t.
The air in the room was so still it was hard for him to breathe.
“Kodiak then. The first thing I always ask a client is do you have any regrets?”
He had a fuckload of them.
“Two.”
She waited for him to go on and when he didn’t, said, “Would you like to share them with me?”
Not really.
He ran his hand through his hair and rubbed the back of his neck. “I regret that I wasn’t able to save him.” He could feel the burn hit his eyes even now. “Jonathan. My best friend.”
“And the other?”
“That I waited. If I had gone to Linnea as soon as I found her again…we’d have never known. We probably would have had a little baby by now. We could’ve lived such a happy life together if only…”
If only he’d acted sooner. If only he hadn’t waited. If only they had never uncovered how diabolical Jarrid Black truly was.
It had been ingrained into him for as long as he could remember that Linnea was his to protect and to love. He didn’t care if the same blood as his ran through her veins. That was his vow, a promise he intended to keep. To always protect her and love her. It was the sole reason he was here.
He unpacked his things from his suitcase and placed the framed photo he always kept with him on the nightstand next to the bed. He angled it so it would be the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes and the first thing he saw when he opened them. He traced the frame lovingly with his fingers and wondered if she did the same when she tore away the tissue paper he’d wrapped hers in.
Pigtails, pom-poms, and red sneakers.
“Up you go, little one.”
“I see that you love her very much. You always will, and that’s okay. Can you learn to love her as your sister?”
He couldn’t give Barbara the answer she wanted to hear.
Looking at the little girl on his shoulder in the photograph, her arms wrapped around his neck as she held onto those pom-poms, he whispered, “I’m going to try.”
Three years later, it sat on Linnea’s dresser. The photo. Displayed amongst images from her lake house wedding, Venery concerts, Charley’s, and Thanksgiving dinners, Kodiak found himself glancing at it as he stripped the sheets that still smelled of Kyan from her bed.
He was better now, wasn’t he?
Before he had to see his sister cry again, Kodiak took the linens to the laundry room and threw them in the wash. Water cascaded into the machine. He tossed in a pod of soap and closed the lid.
“Thanks, Seth.”
Tucking a new sheet under the mattress, he glanced up at Linnea. She appeared almost waif-like, in old, faded pajama pants, a shirt stretched over her burgeoning belly, and disheveled hair escaping its tie. And so very tired. Without makeup, the translucent skin beneath her eyes had taken on a purplish hue.
“Don’t mention it.” One small thing she didn’t have to deal with. “Dillon left?”
“Yeah.” With a tilt of her head, Linnea pushed the hair back from her face. “He has a meeting downtown first thing in the morning.”
