The terror resurfaces when I lift a forkful of scrambled eggs to Jenna’s mouth and she doesn’t react. I almost reconsider. But then I go over everything again and arrive at the same conclusion. If I know Jenna well—which I think I do after everything—this is indeed what she needs. Safety and care. To feel that she’s not abandoned.
“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 ofus. 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.
