Chapter 57 #2
“Will you take it?” I hold the fork toward Killian. He snaps out of the worrisome frozenness and quickly moves to sit on the bed, taking the fork.
Brushing my hand over Jenna’s forehead, I gently pull her head into me and rest my hand on her hairline. “You’re safe, Jenna. Nothing is gonna happen. I’m here for you—Killian is too—and we both care so much about you.”
“Yes, so much,” Killian agrees, reaching for her hand, but pausing before touching it.
I nod for him to go ahead, needing to see how Jenna will react to his touch. Killian might be the one to have caused her dissociation, but he might also be the only one who can get her out of it.
He gently takes Jenna’s limp hand and folds it into his own. “I’m here for you,” he says. “I’m so, so sorry for what I did. For everything.”
Jenna’s chest shakes, and there’s the sound of a sharp inhale. But when I lean to the side to get a closer look, her eyes are still unfocused, aimed at the empty distance.
I nod at the fork in Killian’s hand. “Try to feed her.”
He keeps his hand around hers as he lifts the fork to her mouth.
“Open up, sweetheart. You need to eat,” I say softly against her ear, caressing her stomach.
When she still doesn’t respond, I get another idea.
Curving my hand around her cheek, I turn her head toward me and lean in to press a slow kiss to her lips.
When there’s still no reaction, I angle her a little to get better access, then try again as I cup the back of her head.
This time, I move my lips a bit more. And there it is.
A response. It’s tiny, but it’s there. She parts her lips, just a little.
I lick the top of her lips slowly, then the bottom. She gives an almost imperceptible shiver when I lick the corners. I smile against her mouth. “Good girl.”
“Did it work?” Killian asks.
When I break the connection and lift my gaze to him, I expect to see jealousy or at least discomfort at the situation, but he just watches hopefully.
Nodding, I turn her head back to him and sweep my hand over her forehead again to rest it on her hairline. Pressing a hand to her head in some way always seems to calm her.
“Be a good girl and eat for me, sweetheart,” I say when Killian lifts the fork to her lips again. Worry tightens his expression when she doesn’t react, but when he prods a little, she finally opens and takes the food.
A wide smile lights up his face. It takes me back to when he was five and had just caught a frog in a pond with his bare hands.
“Well done,” I say, just like I did that time.
He all but beams as he scoops up another forkful of eggs and Jenna accepts it again.
“Talk to her,” I urge.
“About what?”
“Anything.”
Killian pauses, the fork in the eggs, and considers for a moment. Then he scoops up more eggs and starts talking while he feeds her.
“I’ve been working on this new piano piece that makes me think of you.
“Un Sospiro” by Liszt. It’s really hard to play because it needs a very delicate touch.
It has all these quick thirty-second notes that wrap around the melody—very Liszt-like—and they have to be soft and flimsy like silk.
Or a spider’s web. And then there’s the melody in the middle, which you have to use both hands to play while jumping back and forth between the rapid notes.
It requires so much precision to really shape it the right way.
All those rapid notes give it a yearning, almost frail feeling, even as the melody provides a powerful presence.
It has this delicate beauty to it that reminds me so much of you.
Achingly beautiful, vulnerable, and so full of emotion. ”
My smile grows. I was afraid he was becoming as cold on the inside as he is on the outside, but he’s just been locking it all up, and Jenna has been bringing it more and more to the surface.
His description is touching, and I find myself holding Jenna even closer as a warm sort of intimacy descends over the room.
Killian goes quiet for a minute while he keeps feeding Jenna. Then he casts an almost nervous glance at me, still talking to her. “I guess it reminds me of us. You in the middle; my dad and I on either side.”
My heart thuds against my chest, so much emotion swelling inside it—for my son, for Jenna, for this strange, immoral, but beautiful dynamic we have found ourselves in.
At that moment, everything is crystal clear.
This is what I want. Us. Not just her and him separately, but all three of us as a unit.
I have no idea how it’s going to work, but I know that I will do everything in my power to get there.
“I love you,” I tell him when he glances up again. It’s the first time I say those words—to anyone—and I regret not having done it before when I see the surprise on his face. Like he didn’t know. “I always have and always will. Nothing you can do will change that.”
His nose twitches, jaw hardening. He’s choking up, struggling to hide it. He feeds Jenna two more mouthfuls before looking up again. “Thanks, Dad.”
Silence descends again as he feeds Jenna the rest of the food, then brings the glass with the straw to her lips and waits for her to empty it, one small slurp at a time.
He sets it down on the tray, then faces me again. “I’d like to play the piece for her if it’s okay with you.”
“Of course,” I say, then kiss the top of Jenna’s head. “Any life down there?”
Killian nods. “Just a little.”
I move out from behind her and hold her upright when she tries to crumble to the mattress.
“Jenna, sweetheart, I want you to try and get out of bed on your own.” Hopefully, the movement will lend some life to her body and the new awareness will wake up her mind.
She grabs the comforter and pulls it up, trying to squirm out of my grip.
I gently try to pull the comforter off, but she holds on. “If you don’t come on your own, I’ll carry you, but I would like you to move by yourself. Can you be a good girl and do that for me? I’m right next to you.”
She hesitates, and then her fingers slowly loosen around the comforter.
“Good girl,” I croon and help her scoot her legs out over the edge.
Killian comes to stand at my side when I take Jenna’s hand and wrap an arm around her back. He tries to take her other hand, but she pulls away. Hurt draws his features tight, but he accepts her silent rejection and steps aside.
Pride swells in my chest again. For him and for her. He’s finally starting to show the emotional maturity and patience I’ve been waiting for, and Jenna takes small steps over the floor while gripping my shirt at my chest.
I keep her steady against me until we’re in the music room across the hall. Killian is right behind us, hovering close by as if ready to catch her even though I’m holding her. His protective instincts seem to have roared to life with a vengeance.
“Good girl,” I tell her when I finally scoop her into my arms and sink onto the couch with her in my lap.
Killian hesitates, then steps close and leans down to press a swift kiss to Jenna’s head before going to sit at the piano. He closes his eyes, discreetly shakes his hands in his lap, and draws a few deep breaths. He’s nervous. I can’t remember the last time I saw him nervous before playing.
The start is shaky, but then he finds his footing, and what he plays is unlike anything I’ve ever heard—from him or anyone else.
His technique is flawless, as always, but the depth of emotion he imbues the music with is new—so raw and honest that it draws tears to my eyes.
It’s like he’s saying all the things I have been trying to get him to say over the years, releasing all the hurt and fear I know has been stuck inside him.
I remember hearing him play the piece a few months ago and being surprised by the choice of music and the depth he played it with, hoping he was on the right track toward the greatness I’ve always imagined for him, but this goes beyond anything I could have hoped for.
I feel Jenna reacting as well. At first, it’s just her hand clutching my shirt a little tighter, then she starts quivering, and finally, she gives little jerks and shudders as if crying.
There are no tears or sobs, but I take it as a good sign.
She’s feeling something and reacting to it.
Something’s loosening. She’s coming back.
I rock her gently and whisper quiet, unobtrusive reassurances while Killian plays.
When he’s done, he just sits there, staring at the keys.
His shoulders are drawn in, his head lowered.
He looks nothing like the strong and confident son I know.
It breaks my heart, but there’s also hope in the change, and I decide to focus on that.
“That was beautiful, Killian,” I say. “The best I’ve ever heard you play. The best I’ve ever heard anyone play.”
There’s no reaction to my words when he lifts his gaze, only bone-deep concern and regret. “How is she?”
I gesture my head for him to come sit with us.
He does so without hesitation. The fear of showing care and affection is gone, just as quickly as his vulnerability disappeared thirteen years ago.
I still remember picking him up from school one day and seeing that cold, detached look in his eyes.
His stutter was gone, but the price was way too steep.
I dearly hope he won’t snap back into that coldness once Jenna gets better.
Because she will. I’m determined to make it so.
“Touch her,” I tell him softly.
He tentatively lifts a hand to her back and makes a slow brush with his fingers. When she doesn’t recoil, he places his hand beside her spine. I feel her breath growing more staggered. But it doesn’t seem to be despair. It seems to be relief.
“Go on,” I whisper.
He starts stroking—long soft trails down the full length of her back.
When Jenna sniffles, he pauses, but I nod for him to continue.
And so he does. His touch stirs a rush of emotion in her that ebbs and flows like a wave.
Her chest lifts and falls, breaths lengthening, shuddering and stuttering.
Her sniffles become louder, and her hands grip tighter onto my shirt.
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Let it out. I’ve got you, sweetheart. You’re safe.”
“We’ve got you,” Killian chimes in, adding his other hand. “We’re here for you.”
He keeps caressing her, speaking soft words of reassurance.
He becomes so fully engrossed in the task of comforting her that he seems to forget about everything else.
Little by little, he moves closer, leans his head on her shoulder, eyes falling shut as he gets lost in the moment.
She reacts just as gradually, softening beneath his touch, letting him take her hand, even squeezing it in return.
She still doesn’t cry, but the release of emotion is palpable in her shaking breaths and stuttering chest.
“I’m here for you, Jenna. Always.” Killian draws a shuddery sigh. “Always,” he repeats with a fervor I feel beating in my own heart.
Those words seem to break through Jenna’s stiff wall of detachment. She straightens, eyes dazed as they move across the room, landing on Killian. She just stares at him for a moment, lost. And then she starts shaking her head.
“No,” she whimpers, pulling her hand from his. “Don’t touch me.”
“Jenna,” he tries, reaching for her.
“No,” she says with more clarity, pulling back, trying to scamper off my lap.
I hold up a hand, gesturing for him to back up.
“Don’t touch me,” she says with urgency, trying to push off my lap and get farther away from him.
Killian gets up, steps away. “I’m so sorry,” he says, giving her the distance she needs.
“No,” she pants. “No, no, no.” She keeps trying to crawl out of my lap, but I hold on, knowing I’m not the one she needs to get away from.
“I’m s-so sorry, Jenna,” Killian repeats with deep regret just before he backs out of the room and disappears.
“Shh, I’ve got you, sweetheart,” I assure. “It’s just you and me. Just breathe.” I place a hand on her chest. “Look at me.”
Her eyes linger on the door for a moment before they turn to me, wide and frozen, but focused.
“Good girl. Keep watching me while you breathe. Deep into your belly.” I draw a long inhale, rubbing her chest as she imitates, drawing her focus into her body.
I keep guiding her flow of air until she’s breathing somewhat normally and exhaustion overcomes her.
Her shoulders slump, eyes becoming distant again.
“It’s okay,” I tell her, pulling her into me.
When I carry her back to bed a while later, she has drifted off again. She’s not quite as unresponsive as last night, but there’s not much life either.
I repress a sigh as I crawl into bed and pull her close, preparing for the long road ahead of getting Jenna back.