Page 47 of Hot for Teacher
“What happened?” he asked, making no move to set the car in gear.
“I just needed a ride,” Chase told him, his gaze fixed on the windshield in front of him.
Killian turned off the car.
Chase frowned at the keys in the ignition, although his reaction was delayed by a notable second. “What are you doing?”
“What. Happened?”
Chase blinked at Killian. “It was nothing. Just … dinner with my parents.”
Ah. The family. Killian was glad he’d turned off the engine. Something was going on there, and he was no longer satisfied with staying in the dark. Not if the parents were now making visits and leaving Chase like this, whateverthiswas.
“What did they do?”
“Nothing,” Chase repeated, managing to sound genuinely surprised by the question. When Killian only arched a brow, he frowned. “I mean it. Nothing.”
“Why didn’t they drive you home?”
Chase shrugged. “They were tired.”
That was bullshit. The house Chase shared with the baby alphas was only ten minutes from here. Killian had looked it uponce, after coaxing the address from his beta one lazy Sunday morning.
Killian’s answering silence seemed to throw Chase off. He shrugged again, the movement jerky, with none of his usual natural grace. “They’re not— When it comes to—” He broke off. Let out a breath. Tried again. “They just don’t like me very much. They never have.”
It was strange, the anger that ran through Killian. Hotter than anything he’d ever felt, and yet it left him ice-cold. “Explain.”
Chase trapped his lower lip between his teeth. Let it out again. “They’re not terrible or anything,” he eventually said. “They just … aren’t that interested in me.”
“And they never have been,” Killian repeated.
“No.”
Killian had to unclench his teeth with determined effort to ask, “And when you were achild?”
“I mean, I had a nanny. I wasn’t neglected.” Chase drew back, startled by whatever he saw in Killian’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You just told me you were a child completely devoid of parental affection. How should I be looking?”
“No, no.” Chase shook his head. “You’ve got the wrong idea. It’s not that bad. Like, he doesn’t talk about it, but Spencer grew up really struggling with money, and his mother is, like, mean.” Chase’s leg was bouncing now. Killian had never seen him so jittery. “That’s hard, you know? That’s real.”
Meaning his own struggles weren’t.
Killian wasn’t equipped for this. He was used to comforting with actions, not words. But words were necessary here, and he needed to step the fuck up. “Suffering is relative, Chase,” he said, trying to keep his tone as neutral as possible. “There’s always going to be someone who has it worse. That doesn’t mean you can’t hurt.”
Chase’s leg stopped its bouncing, and he seemed to sit with Killian’s words for a long time.
Jesus fuck. Had no one ever told him that before? Not a single person? But of course not, if he’d never shared. If he’d kept that pain tucked close to his chest, secret and contained.
Killian thought of Chase’s sobbing breakdown the night of his punishment, the release and the relief there. It was no wonder. And it made it that much more disturbing now, Chase’s dry eyes and lack of reaction.
Who had trained him to be so stoic? Or was that just the natural result of a lifetime of neglect?
Finally, Chase spoke. “I thought pulling out of my scholarship would be big enough to merit a conversation,” he said, almost absently. “I don’t even know why I wanted that. Why do I still care? It’s pathetic.”
“It’s not,” Killian said firmly. “It’s normal to crave a parent’s love and affection.”
Chase met his gaze. “You seem fine.”
