Yield

by Jenna Howard

  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 h
er 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.

  Shaelynn yelled for Mrs. Dawson, the housekeeper, to “clean up this shit.” Take away her pretty clothes and all of Jace’s money and Kate knew exactly who she was.

  She was just like Mom.

  Giving her that identity made Kate not so scared of her. After all, the odds of her going hungry in this house were pretty slim, she rolled over to double-check on the cans of food and decided maybe one more, just in case.

  She woke up to the door opening and she turned her head to watch the feet move. The shoes weren’t those clean white ones Mrs. Dawson wore or the heels Shaelynn wore. These were heavy looking boots with chains going from the ankle and under the sole. Jace!

  Jace was in the room. Unsure of what to do, Kate pressed her face into her pillow. She didn’t want to get caught under the bed but she really wanted to see him. There was a soft thump before he turned and walked out. Curious to the sound, she crawled out and looked around. On the bed was a thick envelope.

  She opened it and stared at the collection of red and brown bills. Her eyes went wide as she sat on the floor and began to count out the money. Fifties and hundreds. Bills she had never seen beyond math books in school. When she was done, she stared. There was two thousand dollars.

  She had two thousand dollars.

  Two.

  Thousand.

  Dollars.

  It was more money than she’d ever held in her life and she had no idea what to do with it. If she was with Mom some would go for rent, but most would go up Mom’s nose. But Mom wasn’t here. This was her money. Putting all the bills carefully in place, she returned to her spot under the bed, and Kate tucked the envelope under the box spring. Jace was home.

  That thought dragged her from her sanctuary and she ran down the stairs, almost slipping on the glossy white tiles. She had no idea where to go now that she was on the main level. A lot of the house was still strange to her.

  Fortunately, she didn’t have to go looking too hard.

  Unfortunately, he was fighting. With Shaelynn.

  And it was all about Kate.

  Chapter 6

  The first person Doyle saw upon waking was his ex-wife. That was one way of killing his morning wood. With a sigh, he flung the sheets aside and climbed out of bed naked. Ignoring her, he went to take a shower. His shower. God, he missed his shower.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered as Claire followed him in and leaned against the sink, her arms folded over her chest. “In case you missed it, we’ve been divorced for eight years. I don’t have to deal with evil eyes in my shower. Fuck off. Go make coffee.”

  “In case you missed it,” she snapped back, “we’ve been divorced for eight years. Make your own fucking coffee.”

  He grunted as he tilted his face into the spray.

  “Kate Jennings, Doyle.”

  “Coffee, Claire.”

  “You’re not the boss of me anymore, Kolemann.” She flipped her middle finger but left him to his shower. Probably a good thing since Kate’s name made him think of Kate naked in his bed and hello erection. No, Kate on the balcony. That moment her fingers dipped between her legs as she obeyed. Without hesitation. Instantly lost in the moment. Fuck, that moment. It was a beautiful thing.

  He hadn’t lied to her. He wouldn’t. One of his favorite masturbations was to a sub surrendering. If for the past year she had green eyes, well, so be it, but now he knew how she looked, how she felt. How she moaned“Yes, Sir.”

  “Fuck.” His stomach muscles contracted as his hand fisted around his dick, cum streaming forth. Exhaling, he let the warm water hit the back of his neck, working muscles that had been tense ever since it had gone tits up. A woman didn’t freak out during sex because her parents were negligent asshole addicts. That came from sexual abuse or rape. “Fuck.”

  The thought of someone hurting her like that…

  How much? How much did she have to take?

  Her “I’m so tired of being me” had chased him into his dreams, mind-fucking him and making him jerk awake at odd times throughout the night.

  If Jace knew or was responsible, Doyle was going to fucking kill him.

  Knuckles rapped on the shower door and he looked at his ex-wife and ex-sub. “Coffee. You look like you need it.”

  He needed it with a shot of Irish. Pushing open the door, he turned off the water, stepped out and took the peace offering. He drank first then dried off, wandering into his closet for a pair of jeans and a shirt from one of the events at the girls’ school. Despite the seclusion of his home, he wasn’t much of a rock star here. He had the small music studio tucked behind the house but that was about it. Hell, even his toy bag didn’t come here. Who would he use it on? Claire? That bridge had been burned a long time ago. Plus the girls were always coming and going. That’s all he needed.

  Here he got to be Doyle Kolemann, just like it said on his property bill and birth certificate.

  Pushing open the double doors to his bedroom, he steppe
d out onto the wood deck that gave him an amazing view of the Strait of Georgia. Bracing his arms on the railing, he looked down to the rocky beach where he could see the girls. Home.

  Claire settled beside him, also watching those two beautiful lives they created. “You look tired, Doyle.”

  “Ten months of hotels, buses, planes and Jace-fucking-Jennings are enough to exhaust me. Fuck being tired, doll.”

  “You hate it so much. Why not leave?”

  “And what, Claire?” Dani’s laugh drifted up to them. It came from the belly and always made him grin. How the hell had he made up half of those two girly-girls? “Find a new band? How many are here? So I what? Relocate? See the girls sporadically because we both know you wouldn’t follow. This is home. I’m too old to start over again. I love what I do. I just hate that fucker so bad.”

  She was quiet, well aware of his feelings toward his band mate. “You miss so much on tour, Doyle. They miss you so much. Willow’s talking about dating.”

  “Fuck that. She’s twelve. No boys for ten years. Minimum.” Dating? Jesus. He was not ready for that. Funny how that hadn’t come up in all their chats. Retirement. He was forty-two. Yeah, he had enough money he never needed to work again even while giving Claire enough alimony and child support that she didn’t need to work. Even cracked out of his head, he had been meticulous about his earnings. Investments and business deals to fatten the account. He had been poor. He wasn’t going to do it again. His daughters weren’t going to go through that either. But what would he do? His last hobby had put him in the hospital with a stomach pump and a defibrillator and his wife threatening to walk away with his kid.

  “Kate Jennings,” Claire said quietly. “Seriously, Doyle? She’s what? Twenty?”

  His eyebrows rose as he looked at her. “Seriously? We’re playing the age card? She’s twenty-four. You know that. Over the halfway mark, which puts her out of mid-life crisis zone.”

  She snorted into her mug. “You’re such an asshole.”