Yield (6 page)

None of them had looked back. None.

The casualty of that lay in his bed.
 

He was ninety-five percent sure Jace had known about Kate and had left her there with her addict mom. He hadn’t exactly been surprised when the call had come about Kate. Jace had thundered about DNA tests, demanded proof, but Doyle was sure it had been an act.

Asshole.

One day.

One day Doyle was going to put his fist through his band mate’s face until there was nothing left but a smear of DNA on the floor. “How do you feel?”

“Stupid.”

“Kate.”

She blushed and her shoulder moved beneath the bed. “Only I could ruin the best sex ever.”

He gave a soft grunt. “Is that a trigger?”

“Well, bad sex wasn’t.” She pushed herself up and drew the covers up. The black against her fair skin was drastic and he didn’t care for it at all.

He uncoiled from his chair, grabbed the edge of duvet and yanked it off the bed. Next, he flipped the sheets down, picked up Kate and plopped her in the middle of the feather cover.

“What are you
–
”

“Hush it.” He scooped her up, grabbed his keys and carried her out of his room. Once they were up where he had found her last night, he set her down and dragged those who had passed out inside. Everyone in the upstairs room was politely told to fuck off before he threw them down the stairs. He sorted through the keys after locking the door. Kate watched from the chair he had put her on, surrounded by all kinds of crap from last night’s party.

Fucking hell, they were too old to party like they were twenty. He was forty-two and had been sober since Claire had given him the choice while pregnant with Willow: get clean or get out. Sobriety had lasted longer than his marriage. He unlocked the door to the studio, locking it behind him. All their equipment was there, ready for more torture as they put together another album. If he didn’t kill Jace first, which could happen.

Even without Kate factoring into it, he had a massive hate for Jace-fucking-Jennings. He couldn’t even credit sober clarity. Nope, the hate had been there almost from the start.
 

He grabbed an acoustic guitar that was probably Carl’s and went outside. The hot tub was disgusting. Someone’s underwear floated while brown foam churned. He assumed it was vomit. Gross.

Doyle wished they weren’t here, surrounded by the remains of all kinds of bodily functions. The bony remains of debauchery and stupidity. The sky was turning shades of pink, orange and violet. Until he had gotten clean, he hadn’t truly appreciated how the sun looked coming up over the mountains. If he was around in the summer, Dani would join him on the back deck, him with a cup of coffee, her with hot chocolate and they’d just sit there, the birds chirping as they watched the sun creep up then that perfect moment when it hit the water.

Sometimes when he was on tour, Dani would set up the laptop beside her, the camera facing their view. God damn, he missed his mornings with her. Missed Willy wandering in as he fought lyrics. He missed his home. He missed his girls. Ten months of video chats and dropped calls was enough.

He was ready for home.

He set the guitar down and organized Kate to his liking, then he sat down between her spread legs and settled against her.

“Shouldn’t it be the other way?”

“We need to get this bratting taken care off before it gets out of control.”

“I am not a brat,” she huffed.

She was. It made him grin as he tuned the guitar. If life had been a little gentler with her, she’d be one helluva bratty sub. “My hand, your ass.” She sucked in her breath as her body stilled behind him. He strummed the familiar chord. The lyrics were a part of him, a piece of his daughters that he could pull out to be close to them. Their sweet voices joining in. It was their song, written when they had been little and the world was theirs for the taking. A theme song that let them know he’d hold the shit back until they could stand on their own, then he’d be there. Just be there no matter the outcome.

The last note faded away and he reached back, tangling his fingers into her hair and drawing her forward until he could see her. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks. “Get it?”

She nodded and sucked on her upper lip before she gave him her words. “Yes, Sir.”

He stood up, eased behind her and watched the sun come up with her.

****

The slamming of the door and loud laughter woke Kate up. Not for the first time, she wondered at her brilliance of living with people. When she had gone to UBC, she had lived alone in residence, but because she was a bit anti-social, she had dared to up the game. In her second year, Kate had thrown her hat into the roommate pool. The experiment had, for a lack of better description, been an epic fail.
 

This one was heading the same way because even though she lived with two other girls, she didn’t socialize with them. Cyanide concerts and after parties not withstanding.
 

Her room had no personal touches. No family pictures, no mementos, no hidden photo stashes under the bed. This room wasn’t her.

She was tired of ghosting through her own life.

At least she was almost finished with her design course which meant project Katey Jay Designs was that much closer. No longer a dream. Almost tangible. She had suffered through four years of business so she knew what the hell she was doing. Business first, then design, because if it had been the other way she’d have procrastinated her ass off.

Once she was done with her jewelry design courses and the “what you know” column ticked off and she had the beginnings of Katey Jay Designs up, Kate was going to utterly abuse the “who you know” column to get people wearing her designs. People who when they wore something, flocks of wannabes said “I want that because so and so wore it.” Yes, she was totally going to use her connection with Jace Jennings, the other members of the band and everyone they knew.

Because she was also never again going to find herself sitting on a gravel road as the smoldering remains of her home filled the air.

It didn’t matter that she had more money than she really knew what to do with and that there was a bedroom she occasionally frequented in a big ass mansion on the hill over looking the harbor. It wasn’t her. None of it was really hers. It was dumb luck.

All that DNA money from Jace already had a use. It was going to get her her dream.

So in a way Jace was doing something for her, even if he didn’t know it. Or care.
 

Kate tried not to be bitter when it came to Jace and expectations. Sometimes it was hard, especially after moments where it was pointed out he sucked as a father.

Like undoubtedly fucking one of her roommates because Jace Jennings never said no. After all, that’s how she came to be.

Holy hell, she was in a bad headspace. She drew her phone out from under her pillow, opened up a text window and typed in Doyle’s name. After a brief hesitation, because she didn’t want to bother him after seriously screwing up and ruining what she was forever going to refer to as Best Night Ever, caps included, she typed a short message.

I think I’m bottoming out.

The phone rang almost instantly making her jump. “Hi.”

“You think or you are?”

“Am.” She drew her knees up and wrapped her free arm around. “Does it take this long? I just woke up from a nap and I’m all…” She shrugged.

“Use your words, Katey.” As if he knew.
 

“I know I’m a disaster, I get that, but it’s like it’s pressing down on me.”

“Tell me what’s pressing on you.” His voice was low and calm making tears burn. If anything he should be pissed. Who ruined sex like that?
 

My life.

She swallowed, her elbow now on her knee so she could rest her head in her palm.

“Is this about what happened?”

“Yes. No. Maybe. No.”

“Pick a word, Kate.”

She sighed. “Yes.”

“What did I tell you I’d do if we hit a trigger? Or it didn’t feel right?”

“Stop,” she whispered as she closed her eyes.

“There will never be a point of no return with me, Kate. I’m forty-two, not sixteen. I knew that with you we were going to hit a lot of dark moments, because a lot has happened to you. Stuff I know, stuff you haven’t shared yet. I guess that’s why I was a dick with you at the club, because shit comes out and you’ve been tossed around enough. I can control the bruises on your body, but I can’t control the internal ones. So we stop, figure it out, then work through it.”

She wiped the heel of her hand down her cheek. “Really? Why? There’s got to be someone less damaged than me. Someone better at this.”

“It’s not like there are report cards, Kate. You don’t get graded. Now, because I’m learning you’re very good at evading, what’s pressing down on you? Tell me.”

Kate sighed, suddenly exhausted from everything. “I’m so tired of being me, Doyle.”

“Why? I’m discovering Katey Jay is a lot more interesting than she gives herself credit for. Get some rest. And Kate? You
will
tell me. Maybe not today, but you will.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what trust is all about. The day you realize you can trust me is gonna be a fantastic fucking day. Maybe even a day of fantastic fucking. No maybe about it. I already know what it’s like to be inside you. Fantastic is a given. This isn’t instantaneous. There’s no magic wand to be waved. Trust doesn’t appear with a great orgasm. It doesn’t even come with being topped. It just comes. Like the sunrise we watched this morning, it just rises up and there it is. Time and patience, girl. Time and patience.”

“You’re pretty poetic for a rock and roll bad ass.”

“Baby, you ain’t seen nothing yet. Better?”

She nodded and smiled at his slow sigh. She gave him her words. “Yes, Sir.”

“That’s hot. That’s so fucking hot.” He disconnected in the middle of the giggle that bubbled out.
 

She pressed her phone against her head. “It just rises up and there it is,” she whispered. She looked around her dull, impersonal bedroom, then climbed out of bed. First a shower and then she was going to go give herself a sunrise.

She was going shopping.

****

Kate - 2002

Her name was Shaelynn Darby and she hated Kate. She saw it in the woman’s eyes. Shaelynn was pretty. She was probably the prettiest woman Kate had ever seen. She had beautiful blonde hair that rippled down her back in waves. This wasn’t the same peroxide blonde Mom would have done for a couple of dollars in one of the ladies’ trailers, it was something else entirely different. She was tanned, tall and thin – very much everything Mom hadn’t been. She also looked as if she had swallowed a basketball. She was having Jace’s baby. Kate’s brother or sister.

“So this is it.” In a crisp voice, she ordered, “Come with me,” and led the way over the smooth black floor. Her high heels made sharps sounds, like a gun firing bullets. Kate followed her up the curved staircase to the top floor of the house. The white carpet was thick beneath her bare feet and that’s why she had been walking around without shoes or socks. The novelty of the plush carpet and smooth floor tiles made her feel safe for some reason. Nothing was rotting beneath Kate’s feet. There were no unknown stains on peeling linoleum. While she felt really small and alone in Jace Jennings’ house, she still felt far safer here then in the trailer.
 

Shaelynn entered Jace’s bedroom like she owned not just the room but also the house. The room was in back and white: white carpet, glossy black furniture, white walls, and black sheets. All of the house was like this as if nobody liked color. Shaelynn tossed her purse onto the shiny dresser and dropped a paper bag in the middle of the floor.

“There are rules here,” she said as she let her jacket fall to the floor, not seeming to care about the mess she was Shaelynn. “You will not bother me or Jace. When the baby comes, you will not bother her. Jace didn’t have to take you in. I highly doubt you’re really his. He did it because of the slut, Belinda.” She walked into a closet almost as big as Kate’s bedroom. Kate didn’t follow.

“We’ll feed and clothe you.” The woman poked her head out the closet and gave Kate a look that said she found her disgusting. “Because it is expected, but make no mistake that you are a guest here.”

“Are you married to Jace?”

Shaelynn’s eyes narrowed to little blue slits and her mouth went tight. Suddenly she wasn’t so pretty. “I don’t want anything to do with you. Do not embarrass us and that means calling Jace Dad or Father. We both know he’s not. You can go now.” She waved her hand like Kate was a fly buzzing about her.
 

Back in her room, Kate shut the door. Her hand slid along the large bed, the sheets cool. She had made her bed this morning, but someone had come in to do a better job of it. The pillows looked fluffier as they formed a soft looking mountain against the headboard. She still hadn’t seen Jace.

Glancing at the door, on the off chance someone suddenly opened it, Kate counted to three. After she grabbed one of the pretty little pillows, she eased under the bed. The carpet was so soft and it smelled clean. A far cry from that moldy, stuffy air in her hiding spot in the trailer. She didn’t have any pictures of him. Yet.

Tucking the pillow under her cheek, she folded her arms beneath it. Kate was surprised to realize she missed Mom. It was darker under the bed and the enclosed area made her feel not so small and insignificant. The silence wrapped around her as she thought over Shaelynn’s words.

Jace
was
her dad, no matter what Shaelynn said. There was proof. All those tests had said so. Kate tried to imagine calling him Dad. To his face. Or someone else.

It didn’t feel right. Not like Mom did. Maybe because that’s what she had called her all her life, that’s who she was. Jace Jennings was…well…

He was Jace Jennings.

Kate stared at the wall. She needed some pictures of him. This space didn’t feel like hers without pictures. Shifting, her foot bumped a can taken from the massive pantry. All that food. She shifted to fix it so no one saw it. Once again, she settled into place.