“You don’t want to do it anymore?” Ian asks, surprisingly patient in the face of Killian’s sour attitude.
“I don’t know,” Killian snaps. “Do you?”
Ian sounds taken aback. “Of course I think you should do it. But only if it’s what’s right—for both of you.”
“Sure, Jenna is all that matters now.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Do I?” Something slams against a surface. “She’s all that matters now. Her and that fucking cat. She can be your new little project—a new shelf of trophies. You wouldlovethat. Winning all over again. I don’t even know why I bother sticking around anymore. Maybe I should move out. Get out of your hair.”
“Enough,” Ian barks. “You know very well that’s not how it is, and if you turn on that brain that’s in there somewhere, you’ll know that I’m right. We both want you here. The only person who doesn’t want to be part of this is you. You’re the one who withdrew.”
“You just want her to yourself, you selfish bastard. That’s all you’ve wanted. Just admit it; you’re happy that I’m not part of it anymore.”
“That’s not true, Killian. I miss you. She misses you. We both want you to be part of this dynamic. But you need to face your demons for this to work.”
“Fuck you!” Killian yells, and then a door slams so hard that the living room door rattles. I hurry through it, retreating to the couch where I pick up Ginny, who looks as shocked as me.
“Shh, everything’s okay,” I whisper into her fur. “He’s just a stupid idiot.”
When Ian comes downstairs a minute later, he goes straight to his office without even glancing my way. I barely see him the rest of the day. He only comes out to let me know that dinner will be delivered at seven, and he doesn’t come to bed until one in the morning.
“Are you okay?” I ask when he finally crawls beneath the comforter behind me. I haven’t been able to sleep, too worried about him and Killian—about everything.
When he doesn’t answer, I whisper, “I’m sorry I’m getting between you and Killian. Maybe it’s best that I move out and withdraw from the competition. I don’t want to cause a rift between the two of you.”
He moves closer, pulling me into his arms. “You’re not creating something that wasn’t already there. Killian has some issues he’s dealing with. Having you here has aggravated them.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Ian sighs. “I hope it’s a good thing in the end—that it will give him the push he needs to get out of that shell of his. But until we find out, I think it’s best that we keep to ourselves and Killian does the same. I’m not cancelling the competition unless he asks me to. He needs that win right now. The two of you barely even need to practice together anymore, so we’ll just ride this out until the competition. Who knows, maybe he’ll come back around. It’s almost two months.”
“Then what? If he doesn’t?”
Ian draws a long, deep sigh, the same weary one I heard when he was talking to Killian. With a hand on my shoulder, he rolls me to my back and props his head on his elbow. “I’ve found a flat for you. It’s just fifteen minutes from here. You can have Ginny there, and it has a pretty view of a park. I’ll come see you there and stay with you some nights. If you want, I’ll continue teaching you, or I can find you another piano teacher. It’s up to you. But I’m not going anywhere. Okay?”
I nod, a sense of hope easing the weight on my chest. But there’s also a tight sense of finality that won’t go away. “And Killian?” I ask.
“He’ll stay here and hopefully realize that he needs to start dealing with his issues.”
“Will I see him again? After the competition?” As much as I hate him, I need him as well. Our nights together have forged a strong bond between us. He might not recognize it, but I knowthat, deep down, he feels it too. All his bullying is just a mask for what he’s really feeling. I see it in the lingering looks, the almost jealous expressions when I’m petting Ginny, and the way his eyes filled with longing when I asked for a hug—just before his expression turned to stone.
“I don’t know. I wish I had an answer, but I don’t. For now, this will have to be enough.”
“Okay,” I say with resignation and sink into him. He presses a soft kiss to my temple and holds me like I’m the most precious thing in the world. I should be utterly grateful for getting to keep this wonderful, protective, dominant man in my life, yet I can’t ignore the cracks in my heart at the thought of Killian not being a part of that life. It’s like an amputation. Cutting out a vital part of myself.
54
The Breaking
Jenna
I miss Killian with an ache that cuts deep into my heart. Time does nothing to alleviate it; on the contrary, it seems to aggravate it. But I might be partly to blame for that, because I can’t stay away from him. Ian keeps telling me to keep my distance, and I know that would be for the best, but I’m drawn to Killian like a moth to a flame. Every time I hear him come downstairs, my whole body aches with the desire to go to him. Sometimes, I manage to quell the urge, often I don’t.
When I give in to the urge and go to the kitchen, I often try to get him talking. “How’s it going with the Rachmaninoff piece?” I’ll ask, or simply ask if he’s seen Ginny.
He always responds with some kind of cruel mockery or tells me to fuck off. I lap it all up like milk, taking whatever attention I can get from him. It physically hurts to be in the same room as him without touching—but I’ve learned over the last five months that I’m a masochist. So I keep trying to be near him, hurting myself over and over by constantly stepping close to the flame, needing just a small taste of Killian.