All Chapters of Teach me to desire : Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The QuietThe clock on the wall of Igor’s kitchen made a soft ticking sound. It was the only noise in the room besides the low hum of the refrigerator. I sat at the breakfast bar with a mug of tea between my hands. The steam rose in thin, gray ribbons, warming my face. I realized I was just sitting there. I wasn't looking over my shoulder. I wasn't listening for the sound of a heavy tread on a hardwood floor or the sharp click of a door handle that usually signaled a lecture was coming.Igor walked into the room wearing a soft robe. He didn't say anything at first. He just went to the counter and started making a second pot of coffee. He moved slowly, his movements predictable and calm."You are awake early again," Igor said. He didn't turn around yet. "Did you sleep better last night?""I think I slept for six hours straight," I said. I looked down at my tea. "I didn't wake up once. That hasn't happened in a long time."Igor turned around and leaned against the counter. He studied me

The LetterThe morning started like any other. I was sitting at the small breakfast table, watching the fog roll over the city buildings. Igor was dressed in a dark suit, his tie perfectly knotted, though he wasn't going into the office. He was waiting for a courier. When the buzzer finally rang, the sound made me jump. My nerves were still frayed, like a wire that had been stretched too thin.Igor went to the door and returned a moment later with a thick, cream-colored envelope. I recognized the embossed seal on the back immediately. It was the law firm my father had kept on retainer since before I was born."Is it from him?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.Igor sat down across from me. He didn't open it right away. He just looked at the name on the front. "It is from his lead counsel. It was only a matter of time, Killian."He pulled out a silver letter opener and sliced the top of the envelope. I watched his face as he read. His expression didn't change at first. He had a way o

Out in the OpenI spent twenty minutes staring at my reflection in the hallway mirror. I wasn't wearing my team jersey or anything with the university logo. I had on a plain black sweater and dark jeans. I looked like any other guy in the city, but my heart was hammering against my ribs."You look fine, Killian," Igor said. He was standing behind me, putting on his overcoat. "You look like yourself. That is more than enough.""What if someone tries to take a picture?" I asked. "What if they start shouting things? My father’s lawyers said the public opinion is at an all-time low.""Then let them look," Igor said. He stepped closer and adjusted my collar. "We are going to a private club. The staff is paid to be discreet. We will walk from the car to the door. It will take thirty seconds.""Thirty seconds feels like a lifetime right now," I muttered."I will be right next to you," he promised. "If it gets to be too much, we leave. No questions asked. We can come right back here and order

The Clean BreakThe morning air was cooler than usual. I sat at the kitchen counter, staring at my reflection in the dark surface of my phone. On the screen was a draft of an email addressed to Coach Miller. I had written it three times already. Each time, I ended up deleting the whole thing because it sounded too much like I was apologizing.Igor walked into the room, still wearing his workout gear. He saw me staring at the phone and slowed his pace. He didn't hover. He just went to the fridge and grabbed a bottle of water."Is today the day?" Igor asked. He leaned against the counter a few feet away from me."I think so," I said. "Coach has been texting me every day for a week. He thinks I’m just taking a mental health break. He keeps saying the team needs their quarterback back for the spring season.""And what do you think?" Igor asked. He wasn't pushing me. He was just listening."I think I don't want to put on those pads ever again," I said. I looked up at him. "Is that crazy?

Reclaiming Intimacy I was standing in front of the open refrigerator, staring at a carton of eggs like they held the secrets to the universe. For so long, my life had been high-stakes drama. It was either the adrenaline of a game or the terror of a confrontation with my father. Now, the biggest challenge of my day was deciding what to put in an omelet."You've been looking at the butter for three minutes," Igor said, coming up behind me. He didn't grab me or push for anything. He just leaned against the counter and waited."I’m trying to remember if I actually like onions," I said, finally pulling the carton out. "I think I only ate them because they were in the pre-game meals the nutritionist made. I never stopped to think if I enjoyed the taste.""Try one," Igor suggested. He reached for a small red onion and a knife. He sliced a tiny piece and handed it to me. "No pressure. If you hate it, we throw it out."I chewed the piece of onion and made a face. "It’s sharp. I don't think I