Chapter 29
The Aftermath
Ian
It only takes a minute before I hear footsteps on the stairs, then another one before Killian appears at the door. But even two minutes is too long. I’m afraid Jenna is going to pass out with the way she’s hyperventilating and sobbing.
“What?” Killian deadpans. But his whole demeanor changes the moment he sees Jenna curling in on herself, crying like she’s in severe pain—which I think she might be, judging from the way she’s clutching her stomach. He stiffens, eyes widening. “Shit, what’s wrong?”
“I think her stomach is cramping up. Help me move the bench.” I grab one side, and he rushes to grab the other. We carefully lift the bench with Jenna away from the piano to create more space around her.
I’m about to step in front of her, but Killian beats me to it, rushing to crouch before her.
“Jenna,” he urges. “Jenna, look at me.”
I pause, surprised to see how he zeroes in on her. I’m not sure what I expected, but him handling Jenna with this urgent care was not it.
When she doesn’t react, he grabs her head between his palms, lifting it. “Look at me, Jenna,” he repeats with an almost pleading tone.
Snapping out of the surprise, I step behind her and grab her arms. “You’re safe,” I assure. “We’ve got you.”
At those last words, Killian glances at me, a slight frown knitting his brow before he goes back into a rare protective mode. He doesn’t like to provide care for anyone. It clashes with his need to protect himself and maintain the cold facade he erected many years ago. But even so, he keeps going.
“Good girl,” he says when Jenna opens her eyes, his sincerity startling. I’ve heard him use those words before, but they usually carry an edge of mockery. “Take a deep breath for me.”
“No,” she cries, slamming her hands to her face.
She’s stuck in her own desperation, and Killian is probably the last person she needs right now.
I’m about to round the bench and take over, but I can’t bear to interrupt when Killian leans up and gently pries her hands away.
“Jenna, I’ve got you.” His jaw tics as he mimics my words—the words he doesn’t want to say, but the ones he knows might work.
His determination to get her out of this wins over his own selfish needs.
“Breathe,” he urges, placing a hand on her chest and drawing a loud inhale.
I’m not sure if he realizes that he’s doing the exact same thing I used to do when he had panic attacks during the first few months after his mother left.
I think some kind of instinct has kicked in.
This is not the same closed-off, cold Killian I’m used to.
This reminds me more of the gentle, unguarded version I knew so many years ago and thought was forever gone.
Hope grows inside me. Even more so when Jenna responds with a long inhale—shuddery, but deep.
I’ve never seen Killian in a crisis, and I couldn’t be prouder. Maybe this is the sign I needed to know that he’s ready to have her on his own—that I can trust him with her.
“And out,” he says, pressing slightly against her chest.
Her exhale morphs into more sobs, but Killian is quick to grab her hands before she can sink deep into the panic again.
“Jenna, look at me. Breathe in.” He brushes the hair from her face and repeats the demonstrative inhale. I know the moment she looks at him from the way he brightens. I can’t help but marvel. All he sees is her while he guides her through repeated deep breaths.
Finally, she calms somewhat. She’s still crying, her breathing labored, but she’s no longer spiraling.
“Let’s get her off,” I tell Killian. I’m about to grab her under the arms, but Killian has another idea. He doesn’t even look at me; he just acts. Getting up, he leans down to her and lifts her hands to his neck. “Hold onto me,” he tells her, then wraps his arms around her and starts pulling.
I grab the lube from the side table, and when he lifts her a little, I squeeze a generous amount on my finger and smear it around her opening. I’m not sure how much relief it will offer since friction doesn’t seem to be the problem, but Jenna needs all the help she can get.
“Good girl,” Killian croons, lifting her a tiny bit more.
But when he tries to bring her another notch up, she cries, “No, stop.”
“I’ll stop,” he promises and pauses.
“Let me go.”
“Don’t worry. I’ve got you. I won’t let go. Just lean into me. I’ll hold you here until you’re ready.”
“Noo,” she wails but clings tighter to him anyway.
“Where does it hurt, Jenna?” I ask, caressing her back.
“My stomach.”
I sigh. That’s what I thought. She’s cramping. I’ll have to get her some painkillers, but I can’t leave her side. Not like this.
“Are you ready to go again?” Killian asks.
She makes a tiny nod against his shoulder, sniffing and whimpering, but no longer sobbing.
It takes several rounds of Killian lifting her a little, Jenna breaking into more sobs, then waiting for her to calm, until Killian finally gets her free.
The moment she stands on her own two feet, clinging to Killian for stability, the situation dawns on him. His features draw tight, his cold facade returning, and he loosens his arm around her, about to hand her over to me.
“Do not let her go like this,” I tell him in a low warning.
His jaw hardens, but he firms his grip on her.
“Take her to the couch and sit with her,” I say in an uncompromising tone.
He gnashes his teeth, but I can tell the need to take care of her lingers as he carefully lifts her into his arms and carries her across the room.
I go to get painkillers, some juice, and a little chocolate.
When returning, I pause at the door, watching for a moment, Killian unaware of my presence.
His jaw is still hard, eyes angry, but he’s holding Jenna almost as tightly as she’s holding on to him.
He needs this, but he can’t let anyone in.
I guess I get it. For years after his mother left—actually, ever since—I kept relationships casual.
But with Jenna, opening up has come naturally.
I’m not sure what it is, whether it’s her innocent, trusting nature and the way she’s growing dependent on me, or if it’s the amount of power I hold over her because of the way I got her here.
I guess it’s really just two sides of the same coin.
I linger, letting Killian have this moment, but when Jenna squirms and says, “It hurts,” I go in.
As I expected, Killian loosens his grip on her.
The moment I sit down beside them and set the things I was carrying on the side table, he lifts her out of his lap and into mine.
She easily sinks into my embrace, and I’m relieved at feeling her opening up to my comfort as I give her the painkillers and hold her close.
“Killian,” Jenna says just as he’s about to leave the room.
He pauses and turns.
“Thank you.”
The look in his eyes just before he turns on his heel is pure anger. A few minutes later, I hear the front door slam, and I don’t see Killian the rest of the day.
***
It’s six in the morning when the sound of the front door tells me Killian is back. I’ve barely slept all night, too worried after having called and texted him several times without a response.
I quickly slip out of bed, telling Jenna to go back to sleep when she stirs, and grab my robe. Tying the belt, I half-run down the hall and up the stairs.
“Where have you been?” I say when I see Killian crossing the landing.
“School.” He proceeds to his bedroom, but at least he doesn’t slam the door on me.
Dragging a hand through my hair, I follow him and stop in the doorway. “Have you slept there?” His access card allows him to practice there at all hours, but the place is not made for overnight stays.
He shrugs, and I draw a heavy sigh. I’m tempted to reprimand him for not responding to my texts, but I’m not in the mood for a fight. I’m just relieved he’s home. “Are you okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” He sends me an annoyed scowl, and I know his shields are back up. Killian is back to his usual cold self.
“If you ever want to talk about what happened yesterday—”
“I need to get some sleep,” he cuts me off with an annoyed tone and grabs the door handle, forcing me back as he pushes it closed.
The hope that had sparked fades as I go back downstairs, take Jenna in my arms, and spend another fruitless hour chasing sleep.
Finally, I decide it’s useless and get out of bed, pad barefoot into the kitchen, and put on a pot of coffee. The dripping of the machine is almost comforting, and so is the prospect of a kick of caffeine in my sleep-deprived system.
Once the machine beeps, I pour myself a mug and bring it to my office, where the soft glow of multiple monitors welcomes me. Settling into my desk chair, I take a slow sip, savoring the rich flavor before pulling up my trading dashboard to check on the overnight markets.
An hour and a few caffeine-fueled trades later, I return to the kitchen for more coffee, but pause just inside the living room as I find Killian crowding Jenna against the kitchen counter.
“Good morning, princess,” he says, caging her in with his hands pressed to the counter on either side of her. “Or should I say, ass slut?”
I’m about to speak up and tell him off, but Jenna’s reaction surprises me. Instead of letting her anxiety get the better of her, she shoves angrily at his hand and moves out of his reach. “Go away, Killian, I’m not in the mood.”
“Feisty today, are we?” He slides up behind her again, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “I like that. Makes it that much sweeter when I put you in your place and make you kiss the ground at my feet.”
“Shut up.”
“You know, it is going to happen.”
“Well, not right now, so get out of my way.” She shoves at him again, but this time, he doesn’t let her go.