Page 126 of Her Daddies' Everything

Jenner didn’t like that. He stared down at his clenched hands. “When I’m writing songs, when I’m singing, everything else fades away. It all goes into the background. And I . . . I can quiet my mind. I’m in control.”

“I feel that way when I go to the club.”

“Yeah. I get that.” He used to visit the club with Sampson. But it was too hard to visit now that he’d found fame. The paparazzi would annihilate him. When, at the moment, they adored him.

Not that he cared, but it was good for his career.

And the more his career took off, the more money he made. The more money he made, the more stability he could give to his family.

Not to mention that half of them worked for him. He’d wanted to be surrounded by people he trusted.

What he hadn’t realized was the toll it would take on him, worrying about keeping them all employed.

It was something that wore on him, along with having to keep the fans happy, the press positive, and do what everyone wanted of him.

It was a fucking boulder on his shoulders sometimes. Especially since he didn’t feel like he could share it with anyone.

A man who was a real man didn’t moan and complain. Maybe he should go to a therapist again. Because he felt like he was drowning with no lifeline in sight.

“I felt better when I went to the club.”

“Because you were in control. You’re like me, we need to feel in control of our surroundings and sometimes we can’t be.”

“I never wanted to hurt Immy. I love her.”

Sampson eyed him. “She loves you too, you know. She’s in love with you.”

Jenner shook his head. “She can’t be.”

“She is.”

“I don’t deserve her!”

“Is that what you believe or what our father made you believe? Because you do deserve her.”

“She needs someone better. Someone who isn’t fucked in the head. Do you know what I did after she kissed me? I ran. And then I spent the next thirty minutes vomiting my guts out.”

“What?” Sampson whispered.

“That’s what he did to me. Immy is good and pure and innocent. I am not. I cannot touch her like that. Not with these fucking hands.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

A wave of nausea washed through him.

His feelings for her were wrong. Immy should be protected. Revered. She should never be harmed.

Immy was the best of them.

Perfection.

That could never be tarred. Especially by him. Because he was wrong.

Dirty.

Getting to his feet, he raced into the bathroom and threw up.

So weak.

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