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Chapter 22
Killian
While Declan and Raven discussed the color specifics for his tattoo, I stepped outside for fresh air. And a smoke. A fucking contradiction, yes. But I was ready to crawl out of my skin and needed something to calm me down. Declan’s words had gotten to me.
It wasn’t so much what he said, but rather the fact that he wasn’t the first person to say it. The first had been my dad.
I took out my wallet, searching for the single-page letter I carried everywhere like a sentimental fuck. When my dad died, I was nine. I remembered him, but at the same time, I didn’t. Not the way Declan did. Sure, I had memories, but the older I got, the more it felt like those memories came from old pictures and stories.
Dad used to take me out for a lot of quiet time. I remembered that. We spent most of our time together in silence. He’d walk me out into the middle of the woods behind our house and tell me to breathe. Listen to the woods. Feel the wind. Find your balance. Because I wasn’t stable like the woods or like him. I was wild and unsteady like the ocean. He told me I couldn’t live like that. I’d flounder until I’d drown.
I always thought he was a little fucking crazy. I didn’t see myself the way he did. I was wild and free-spirited. I liked to have fun and test the limits—any limits. Nothing and no one could stop me. Hell, I’d thought he was a little crazy until two years ago when I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. And the longer the doctor and I talked, the more it became clear to him that it’d been early onset—from puberty at the least, if not before. All my wild, irritational antics and moods as a child weren’t just some hormonal thing that’d even out as an adult like everyone told me. I was a very real mess that needed some very real help.
Suddenly all my dad’s theories on finding balance and how ocean-like I was made a lot more fucking sense. The wild swings in my emotions and thinking, the need for balance, the quiet time. All of it.
I craved the balance he said I needed. I just didn’t have a fucking clue how to do it. I kept his letter to me—the one Mom gave me when I told her I wanted to propose to Genevieve. That letter with its worn-out edges and deep wrinkles became a goddamn lifeline. I’d scour it, looking for some kind of understanding in his words as to why I was so fucking broken and how to fix myself.
Killian, my wild-hearted boy,
Before anything, I want to say I’m sorry that I’m not there. When you become a parent, you have all these hopes and dreams of watching your children grow up. I wanted to be there. I wanted to watch you grow into the incredible man I know you’ll become. I wanted to be there to celebrate the good times and support you in the bad.
Admittedly, this is the second letter I’ve written for you. The first was written when you were so young that I felt it wasn’t applicable anymore. In fact, you and I just came back from one of our walks. I know you think they’re stupid, but I hope you can see how much they help you.
You’re strong and fierce with an endless stubborn streak. Those traits will get you far in life—help you accomplish so much—but they’ll also be your greatest hindrance if you don’t learn to find balance. Where you’re strong, you have to learn to let yourself be weak. Let yourself ride the highs, but you need to let yourself feel and work through the lows. Where you’re fierce, you have to learn to be compassionate and gentle. You can’t plow through everything. Sometimes you have to be patient and wait. Where you’re stubborn, son, you have to learn to be flexible. It’s not always your way or the highway. I’ve watched you fight hard when you try to make others hear you—make others do what you want them to do. When they don’t, you stop listening and run away. Life doesn’t work that way.
You need to find balance, Killian. I hope you learn to find it for yourself. I wish I could be there to help you more than I could ever put into words. You deserve to find happiness and calm in the chaos that is your feelings and your mind. Remember, even the ocean can’t sustain its wild. It needs to find its rest and calm to keep going.
Remember to breathe. Listen to the woods. Feel the wind. Find your balance.
I love you always.
Dad
I read the letter once. And read it a second time. And a third time for good measure.
Strong.
Fierce.
Endlessly stubborn.
In other words, I was a fucking bulldozer like Declan had said.
Had I tried to bulldoze Genevieve in the end? That fucking question played on repeat in my head. I had tried my best to be flexible and gentle despite the allegations her father spewed like wildfire. Talk about being a fucking bulldozer. That man had dismantled my entire life, and I’d let him. I’d let him do so to protect Genevieve from things she didn’t want to face. I’d put my fucking trust in that woman, but she hadn’t done the same.
Hadn’t I done enough? Hadn’t I let her do enough to me? Shouldn’t I be done with her?
But that fucking thought… had I fucking bulldozed her too?
Had I stopped to listen to what she needed from me? Or just expected her to do whatever the fuck I needed? I knew I’d been the one to walk away, but had I been the one to fuck it all up too?
Chapter 23
Genevieve
Do you want to sit home and mope?” Cade demanded when I opened the door to my house. He stood on my doorstep with coffee in hand. “Or do you want to be the hot bitch on the dance floor who makes him regret ever being dumb enough to walk away from your sexy ass?”
I just stared at him. He was so… perky.
