17. Allan
Chapter seventeen
Allan
A s each day passed during which I couldn't access the sphere inside me, my muscles tensed, my heart raced, and my anger stirred. Frustration bubbled over frequently and I often directed snarky comments toward Daddy Patrick. It wasn't fair of me, and I knew it. Patrick was forever the dad—forgiving, patient, and encouraging.
I had spent the previous evening going over my meticulous notes on various ways I thought we could circumnavigate the Fae's demand.
"But what if we just flatly refused?" I asked.
"I told you they would invade, and people will go missing. It's happened before." Patrick squinted at me, telling me silently I should have remembered that.
"All right, then what about bartering for something else? Surely some negotiation would be allowed? What if I can make them an offer they can't refuse?" I waggled my eyebrows.
"Bartering hasn't been successful in the past, and what could you possibly have to offer?" Patrick cocked an eyebrow at me. I was getting the impression he wasn't happy I was wasting so much time on these theories.
"They said they wanted me for one year."
"Yes, that's correct."
"But why?"
"All they mentioned was they needed your magic."
"But what for?" I asked.
Patrick shrugged. "I don't know, Allan."
"There has to be a loophole. Some kind of back door we are not seeing."
"Look, the Fae have always been tricky to deal with. They are purposeful with their words, and they never lie, but they don't always tell the whole truth either. They are also powerful in strength and in their own magic. You must be careful, cautious, and realistic. I honestly don't think there are going to be any loopholes."
I grimaced, my anger once again inappropriately directed toward Patrick.
"We'll see," I said but then put my notes down and gave up for the evening. We were both clearly flustered and frustrated. All we did that night in bed was sleep back-to-back.
The next morning, Patrick had taken me down to the lake and we tried various ways for me to get inside of that ball living within my chest, the source of where my magic lived within me.
"Allan, you need to relax. Remember, most others get an entire year. You're progressing far faster than most, certainly with more grace than I did." Patrick attempted to encourage me one night while we sat and ate dinner.
I couldn't look at him. Not only did the fire rage deep within me, but I couldn't help but feel like I was failing Patrick, yet again.
My looming deadline to be handed over to the Fae was now a couple of weeks away.
"Yeah, but I don't get a year. I get another two weeks."
"How many times do you want to go over this?" Patrick reached across the table and placed his hand over top of mine. "You are steadily progressing faster than most students I've ever known. Besides, I'm going to offer myself up first. You're not going unless they absolutely demand it, and if they insist on taking you, I will go with you."
"Wait, that's the first time you've said that."
"Is it? Well, I always meant it." Patrick focused more on chewing his roast than looking at me, and I had only snuck a glance. This was a disaster.
"You don't think I'm going to be ready, do you?"
"I think we were given an unrealistic timeframe, and expecting you to have control over something enormous and powerful in such a short period of time is utterly ridiculous. If I knew what the Fae wanted your magic for, what their intent was, I may not be this concerned, but I'm not going to lie to you: I am concerned." He placed his fork down and graced me with his best protective Daddy Patrick stare.
"Am I going to die? Is that what's going on here?"
"I can't answer that. I don't know. Believe me, that thought has crossed my mind. Not that I want to freak you out or alarm you. And not because I think they'll do something to you. They promised to return you in a year, but without you being trained and ready, you may find yourself in a situation you cannot control. That worries me."
"And, yeah, they might return me in a year. Did they promise to return me the same way you gave me to them?"
"No, they did not."
"I'm going to die."
"Okay, you cannot focus on that. If you let those thoughts rule you, training will be that much more difficult."
"I can't win." I said, pushing the food around on my plate, then finally giving up, thrusting the plate away from me.
I'd lost my appetite.
After dinner, and the clean-up—which was usually left for me to do because the one time I attempted cooking I nearly burned the house down—I joined Patrick in the living room. Argus and Kaos were on their respective perches. A pillow for the dog, a stick for the velociraptor.
"I have an idea," Patrick said from his armchair.
"Oh?" I didn't hold out much hope.
"Let's just talk."
"About what?"
"Well—" Patrick pulled his lips into thin lines, then opened his mouth. "—sometimes the things that have happened to us in the past shape our futures. We are the sum total of our experiences. But it's how we deal with those experiences, learn from them, or ignore them, that pushes us forward into the beings we are."
"What?" My brain swam with negativity and fear about what was coming. I had no ability to focus on Patrick's abstract concept.
"How do I put this? A child that is brought up in a loving and accepting household, who is celebrated and encouraged, where conversation, honesty and openness is the norm, will find themselves chasing after their dreams and usually succeeding. A child raised in a strict home, with expectations of success, no rewards for things accomplished, no props for creativity or for expressing their emotions, will find that they are stilted, stoic, reserved, and under-accomplished as adults.
"Let's not even discuss those who come from an abusive situation. Does that make sense?" Patrick asked.
"Yeah, I get it. The lovey-dovey house produces kids who are free to be whatever they want. The normal house ends up with criminals."
"Well, that might be an extreme, and I don't think I would call the latter example normal ." Patrick looked like he thought his idea to chat might not produce the intended results. "I guess what I'm asking is, and I think you've already answered it, what kind of home did you grow up in? Did you have the support you needed as a child?"
"What do you think?" I tossed him some side-eye.
"I'm gonna say no."
"You'd be right. Damn, you're smart."
"Watch your lip, mister. I'm still Daddy Patrick in this house." He winked.
I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
He had latched onto the nickname I'd given him and owned it.
"I think you're holding onto issues from your past. And that might be why we're not moving forward. Allan, you've got tons of power you're able to call upon. Like, more than I've ever seen, and certainly more than I ever had when I was your age." He turned to me and grabbed my hands. "I enjoy you being around. I'd like to be able to keep you the whole year and train you. That's not an option. If we had the time, we'd be working on your past and attempting to smooth over the things in your life that you still carry with you. Those things that still bother you."
"If you're talking about my stilted, angry, shithead of a father, or my neglectful mother who was more interested in her bottles of wine, no therapist could undo eighteen years at home, and believe me, they've tried, so how do you think you could?"
"I don't know if I would be successful or not, but I think it's something we need to examine."
"Everybody always wants something out of me. My dad always wanted more. My grades were never good enough. I never excelled in sports. I didn't have the right kind of friends. My teachers wanted me to do better. My mom was the only one who didn't want anything from me. Instead, she sided with my dad or, worse, completely ignored me. My ex wanted me just for my body and took it, on occasion. My boss at work continually harassed me about committing and doing better. For fuck sake's, I sling cocktails, not diagnose and treat patients. And now the Fae want me for my magic. It just goes on and on and on. Now here you are doing the exact same thing."
"And there it is."
"What?" I snapped back at him.
"That's the issue. That's the problem. You're angry, and I believe you think the world is full of takers. You're not wrong. There are a lot of people out there who will use you to their advantage. But there are a lot of good people too. Maybe even me?
"The sarcasm and the defensiveness are all mechanisms to deflect the anger inside of you. And I've seen first-hand the beastly size of your inner rage. I don't want anything from you. Hmmm, damn, okay, that's maybe a lie. But a little one. There are different kinds of wants.
"I want you to be the best version of yourself. How you get there is up to you. I would love you exactly as you were right now if you never changed a thing from this moment right now. But there are good reasons for me to want you to become more. If for nothing else, your safety. But more than that too. I know you can be more. Is that wrong of me? Is it wrong to want that out of you?"
"What did you just say?" My heart stopped. I glared at Patrick.
"There are good reasons—"
"No, not that."
"I would love you…" Patrick's eyes went wide. Then he glanced toward his feet with a ya got me look.
"You would love me , if only…"
"No. Stop right there. You're reading into that differently than what I meant."
"Uh-huh? Just like everyone else." My brows pinched together as my face formed a scowl. But did he really just say what I think he said, or no?
"Allan, we've been together now for two weeks. For a solid week of it you've been sleeping in my bed, and we've been spending every single moment together. We eat together, we study together, we go out for walks together. For the gods' sakes, we even shower together."
I blushed, which was foolish and immature of me, as I remembered some of our more hot and heavy moments. Patrick was right. We'd done practically everything together, and I already knew what was coming next. He had said ‘love' as a slip. He couldn't possibly have those kinds of feelings for me already, and certainly not as a conditional aspect as I had implied in anger. I was embarrassed and also a little ashamed I had put that on him.
"My feelings for you have grown. I wouldn't say the L word right now, but it's getting close. You're an amazing person. And you're fun to be around, and you are so capable. I'm so proud of how far you've come in such a short period of time. How could I not feel more for you right now than what I did when I first threw you over my shoulder after finding you face down in the mud."
"You would love me?"
Patrick stood up, then forced me to do the same and took me into his arms.
"Allan, I little l love you right now. You have so much to give the world, and to Argus, and Kaos, and me. But I want to say those three words to you when my heart is about to burst. When I can't take it any longer. When I want you to know that you have stolen a spot in my life that no other person could possibly ever fill. And you're getting there fast."
"Can I kiss you right now?" My anger dissolved, like sugar in water. For the first time, in maybe ever, I finally had someone in my life who saw the good in me and wanted more for me because they supported and cherished me. Not because they thought it would benefit themselves.
"You have full permission to do whatever you'd like with me."
I leaned in and kissed Daddy Patrick. Full tongue, wet, sloppy, needy, I-can't-get-enough-of-you kisses that sucked the air out of both of us. When I finally pulled away, just to breathe, the raging boner in my pants pressed up against the one he had.
"I want to flip fuck. Right now." I asked.
"That sounds a lot better than a therapy session, doesn't it?" he asked me.
"Immeasurably." I smiled. "Patrick?"
I held him tight, like if I let go for even a second he would disappear into the night, and I'd never see him again.
"Yeah?"
"I little l love you too."
Patrick smiled, then broke away from our embrace, took me by the hand, and led me down the hall.
"If you think I'm gonna call you Daddy when you're fucking me, you're sadly mistaken. You need to have grey hair before I'm doing that."
I laughed as we headed toward our sanctum.
Our pleasure dome.
My new home.
If only for a little while.