Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(91)

“Thanks,” Kennedy says, reaching for her chips.

“Until then,” Roland adds, “maybe we could pray for Matt and that whole situation.”

Kennedy sighs, suddenly looking exhausted. “Can we do it Episcopal style?”

“Huh?” I question.

Roland chuckles. “She means silently.”

I grin. “Gotchya.”

A hush falls over the car, and I watch Kennedy slowly tap out a text. I quickly set my phone to “vibrate” to avoid catching Roland’s attention. A second later, it hums against my palm.



Kennedy: I don’t want to know details right now, but how bad is he?



I move my eyes up the smooth line of her jaw all the way to her eyes. She’s begging me for honesty here, and isn’t asking for too much. She certainly knows more than Matt’s giving her credit for and, honestly, if God’s going to be used in this situation at all, it’s going to be through her since she has a self-evident faith that rivals either of ours at the moment. Maybe that’s part of the point in all of this. To have the lip-ringed rebel drag the PK back to God, kicking and screaming.

Two PK’s, maybe.



Kennedy: Come on Jonah. How bad is Matt?





I hadn’t meant to take so long to reply, so I type quickly.





Me: Really bad.



I sneak a look away from my phone in time to catch one tear slide off Kennedy’s cheek. Seemingly ignoring it, she simply nods and takes a deep breath.



Kennedy: Help me help him.



I don’t text back. Instead, I set my phone next to me and lean forward, holding my head in my hands.

Help me help her.

Help me help him.

Help me love my dad.

Help him love me.

Help me.





CHAPTER THIRTY





The Broken Ones


Kennedy.




Matt looks like hell.

Jonah, Matt, and I are granted some completely CU unapproved time in the Wells family guesthouse while the grownups have a meal in the main house. It’s a small cabin-style structure filled with used—but still fairly extravagant—white furniture with yellow accents. We begged for pizza and Chinese food, and also to be sans chaperone for the sake of being able to talk. I was hoping that Roland heard enough of my talk with Jonah to know that we’ve got issues with Matt’s behavior.

Anyway, as I twist lo mien around my fork, I eye Matt, who is noticeably thinner from waning muscle tone, and has been lax on his facial hair maintenance. While the stubble might look cute under different circumstances, now it just highlights what I know is a surging depression. I’m from the greater NYC area—I know depression when I see it.

“How’s your break been?” I ask of Matt, slurping an oily noodle into my mouth.

He shrugs and gives me a grin. “Pretty good. Yours?”

The thing is, even though he looks like he does—complete crap—he’s also full of it. He’s spent the last day putting on this pleasant show that’s both completely unlike him at all and far from how I left him just a couple of weeks ago.

“Roland’s family is really nice. My family, I guess.”

“Eden broke up with me,” Jonah blurts out, which I’m thankful for. Family probably isn’t the best discussion right now.

Matt’s eyes widen as he turns to Jonah. “Dude, are you serious? Are you okay?”

Jonah nods, looking less okay about it than he has all day. Matt looks to me and I twist my lips, nodding along with Jonah.

“When did this happen?” Matt asks.

Jonah stretches his arms across the back of the couch. “This morning.”

“Why?”

Jonah shrugs. “We’re just in different places right now.”

Matt scrunches his eyebrows. “That’s hard for me to understand since you’re both at CU. The same place.”

Despite myself, I chuckle. At least a shimmer of my Matt Wells remains.

Not yours. Never was. Never will be.

Jonah laughs too. “Just spiritually. I mean … you know all the stuff going on with my dad, man … and just … stuff.”

“Yeah,” I snort, “Jonah’s been big on the stuff. Quite a vocabulary for someone as smart as he is.”

Matt gives me the courtesy of a grin, but winces as he faces Jonah. “She doesn’t get that you’re struggling?”

“No, she does,” Jonah answers. “But you know how Eden is. She would pray until her hands bled. And that works for her. But if I don’t see results …”

“Yeah,” Matt finishes Jonah’s sentence, obviously avoiding my gaze. “I get it.”

I clap my hands and sit forward. “Before you guys drag me down the tunnel of depression, can we talk about something else? Like, tell me what I can expect at this family conference thing that’s a whole thirty-six hours away? Will there be protestors and stuff?”

Matt twists his lips and shrugs. “Probably, but not many. And they’ll mostly be outside. Even though anyone can go to most events like this, this one is invite-only, which cuts down on a lot of the noise inside.”