Chapter 30
The Talk
Ian
Despite seeing that Killian does have a protective side and then feeling how Jenna let me mend the damage his abrupt departure caused, I hold off on sending her upstairs.
More than anything, I want to protect her.
I feel guilty about the bench, letting Killian push her so far in front of me, and not least for my intentions of letting Killian have her on his own at all.
I compensate by dialing back the discipline and dominance.
Instead, I mostly just hold her, letting her come in the embrace of my arms, and making her feel safe—as if it can somehow prepare her for the turbulent ride I’m about to send her on.
A week has passed since the episode with the bench when Killian one day asks me to come upstairs so we can talk. The agitated look in his eyes tells me he’s not happy, and when I come upstairs a few minutes later, I find him pacing the music room, raking his fingers through his hair.
“When are you gonna let me have her?” he demands the moment I close the door behind me.
“Soon.”
“This is taking too long.” His footsteps thud harder against the floor as he picks up pace. “You’ve been saying that for weeks. You’re just keeping her to yourself.”
“I’m not.”
He scoffs. “No? Then why the hell can’t I have her? You’ve seen how wet she gets around me. And I know you watched us in the kitchen. You saw how badly she wanted me.”
Before he can call me out for intruding on their private moment, I say, “You crossed a line that morning. We had agreed that you wouldn’t touch her when alone with her.”
“Yeah, well, we weren’t alone now, were we?” He pauses to shoot me a sharp glare, then starts pacing again. “And stop making excuses. We both know that’s not the reason. I’ve kept away from her long enough, going along with all your rules, and still, you won’t let me have her.”
“She’s still recovering after the incident with the bench.”
“The hell she is. You’re just keeping her to yourself. What are you afraid of? That she’ll find out she wants me more?”
His words hit the nail on the head. The uncertainty gets the better of me, and I deepen my voice to an angry command. “Enough. This is my home, my rules. If you don’t like them, you can leave.”
“Fuck you. Selfish bastard.” He storms off, slamming the door with a force that rattles the pictures on the wall.
Guilt and worry draw tight when I hear the front door slam a few minutes later. He always comes back when he storms out, yet part of me can’t stop wondering if this will be the time he decides not to come back.
During the rest of the day, I can’t stop thinking about what he said—that I want her to myself and am afraid she’ll want him more.
He’s right. That’s exactly what I’m doing.
But I’m also trying to keep Jenna safe, and as much as Killian has shown promising signs of being ready, he has also done a lot of things that point in the opposite direction.
Even so, I can’t continue keeping her from him.
If we don’t test the waters, we’ll never see how it goes.
***
I’m relieved to hear that Killian is back the next morning.
I go upstairs and find him playing the third movement of Beethoven’s “Tempest” sonata with furious energy, head jerking with the wild force of the music.
It’s one of the pieces he usually returns to when emotions are about to get the better of him.
He doesn’t hear me coming, so I pause at the door, listening while he finishes the piece.
When he’s done, I clap my hands and step closer. “If keeping her from you makes you play like that, maybe I should hold on to her a while longer.”
He darts off the bench with a furious motion that makes it topple over. “I’ve had enough of this shit. If I don’t get her by the end of this week, I’m taking her.”
“Relax, Killian. You’ll have her. Sit down before you break something.” I point at the couch, and he drops onto it, though watching me angrily. His temper might spiral out of control sometimes, but he’s smart enough to shut it down when his brain kicks back in.
“I came up here to tell you that she’s yours tonight.”
He swipes a hand through his hair, a twitch of a smile breaking through his anger. “Really?”
“Yes. You were right. I have been keeping her from you.” When he’s about to interrupt, I hold up a hand. “But not for the reasons you think.”
“Why, then?”
“Not just, at least.” I lift the piano bench off the floor and sit on it. “I’m concerned about what you’ll do to her. You’re not exactly in control.”
“Well, that’s because I can’t have her.”
“Maybe. But it doesn’t change the fact that you have a hard time getting a grip on yourself.”
“I’ll behave,” he says with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll.
“What do you plan on doing to her?”
“That’s none of your business.”
I bite down on my molars. He’s right, but it’s really damn hard to accept.
It’s his turn to calm me. “Relax, Dad. I promise to stay within the limits. No scars, no scat, no breaking her mind. Nothing you can’t heal with your magic touch.” He lifts his hands and wriggles his fingers.
“Thank you,” I say. “Keep an eye out for her movements. If she tenses her hips and draws in her ass, she’s had enough, and if she stops responding to touch, stop immediately.”
“Shit, you’ve already told me this a hundred times.”
“These things can’t be said enough.”
“I know how to read a girl. Remember, I’ve been doing this since I was sixteen.”
I grab my forehead and look off to the side. He’s right, but it does little to placate me. Heaving a sigh, I straighten. “Just don’t send her away too harshly. She’s very vulnerable to rejection and easily feels unwanted.”
Seriousness descends, a flicker of that concern for her I saw a week ago returning. “Because of what I did to her back then?”
“That’s part of it, but I sense there’s more to it.”
He stares off to the side, gaze unfocused.
When he faces me again, there’s a somber heaviness in his expression.
“Her mom was a drunk. I never thought much of it, but she would always scold Jenna and be kind of cruel when she picked her up at school. She didn’t even show up at her recitals or any of the competitions, but all Jenna would talk about when she got a trophy was how she was going to show her mom. ”
“What about her father?” My entire body buzzes with the need to hurt whoever’s responsible for Jenna’s deep-seated abandonment issues.
It doesn’t matter that I’m partly to blame.
Someone else needs to hurt for it. It’s a shame her mother died two years ago so I can’t take it out on her.
I would love to use some of the absurd amount of money this trading obsession has given me on making her life miserable.
“I don’t know. She never talked about him. I guess he must have abandoned her.” Realizing what he’s saying, Killian whips his head to the side. “Shit! How did I never see any of that?”
Killian rarely shows compassion—not when talking about victims of war, bullying, or loss.
But when it comes to abandonment, he’ll have these moments of clarity where he sees beyond his own selfish needs.
I’m the same to a certain degree. I don’t care much for other people and their problems, but seeing Killian’s mother walk out on her son at the age of eight has done things to me.
“You were just a kid,” I tell him.
“Yeah, but still.”
“Don’t blame yourself. Just make sure not to push her away too harshly. At least give her a hug. Tell her she did well.”
“I’ll try.”
I sigh. Killian’s issues with letting people get close are just as bad, if not worse, than his abandonment issues. Or maybe they’re just two sides of the same coin—the fear of being left, and the fear of opening up to someone who can leave him.
“Thank you,” I finally say, and we both sit in silence for a few minutes.
Pressing my hands to my knees, I push up. “You have thirty minutes with her tonight. I know it’s not much, but we need to ease her into this or it won’t work.”
“That’s all I need,” he says, surprising me with his agreeable response.
“How do you want her?”
The spark returns to his eyes. “A cute pink dress. One you don’t mind me ripping.”
I smile as well, seeing myself reflected in him in so many ways. Part of me thought he’d want her dressed like a hooker, like he tends to prefer his girls, but Jenna is special. We both see it.
“I’ll send her upstairs at eight,” I say, and with that, I leave.
When I’m halfway down the stairs, he starts playing again.
This time, it’s “Un Sospiro” by Liszt. I haven’t heard him play that one before, and I pause.
Usually, I would have thought it to be a too soulful piece for him, but he plays it with a depth of emotion I’ve only seen glimmers of before but always knew was there.
Killian has mastered his technique to perfection.
He’s only in his fourth year at the Academy and he’s already better than me, but I know he holds a potential that can bring him to even greater heights.
That’s why I push him, hoping he’ll someday break out of the shell that’s holding him back.
Maybe this is the first step of getting there.
When the piece is almost over, I start walking again, not wanting him to hear that I lingered.
A spark of hope awakens in my chest. Maybe having Jenna here is bringing him out of his shell little by little.
If that’s the case, I can’t wait to see what happens when he finally gets to have her on his terms.