by Kat Bastion
Leilani needed to know what I believed: Her people are my people. If not on the outside, to the bone on the inside. No piece of dirt or anything on it belonged to anyone. It all belonged to everyone.
And if she wanted—if I was lucky enough—she would want to belong to me. Seemed only fair. She already had me, heart and soul.
Took a torturous hour to get there. The sun had already clocked into midafternoon, steaming the earth. Windows down with my vintage A/C on the fritz, the wind brought in both much-needed breeze and biting mosquitos; little fuckers chewed my ankles like corn-on-the-cob.
But I didn’t care what it took. Would drag my ass for days in a hellish swamp if I had to.
A hundred feet after I drove past the mile-marker I remembered, I pulled in behind a dozen cars. Which likely meant couple dozen locals. Or more.
Common-sense alarm bells fired off at the danger. But I did a gut check: took note of it, then ignored every instinct screaming to turn back. Adrenaline’s flight-or-fight drug fired through my veins. But I ignored the flight, embraced the fight. On her turf. My way.
I grabbed my board from the back.
A few paces down the dirt shoulder, I ducked under the overgrown vines that hid the only access. Negotiating down the slippery slope, I worked my way along the narrow path well-worn by the locals who watched over their secret bay.
And then it opened up, revealing what I stood up against.
Ten guys sat in chairs on the sand. Two manned a makeshift barbeque. A dozen surfers sat on boards in the lineup. Only one woman floated among them.
“Fucking haole!” The alarm sounded out from a beach-chair guy.
The rest stood as a unit as I stepped onto the sand. Aggression curled their shoulders. Hate etched into their deepening scowls. Leilani’s other two brothers, Koa and Holokai, were there, stink-eyeing me with the rest.
“Boddah you, haole! Go home!” Ke‘eaumoku, her wanna-be boyfriend, led the pack.
“I am home.”
Battle not with the Hawaiian gauntlet blocking my way, I shouted out. “Lani!”
Her head snapped my direction. I couldn’t make out her expression, only her forceful headshake. She didn’t want me there. Because she didn’t want me? Or because of the danger?
I planted my board in the sand, taking a stand. But with her brothers—by blood and race—about to pummel me, I needed to step up the program. Ignoring the threat of meaty fists quickly closing the remaining few yards of distance, I abandoned my board and veered straight toward the shoreline. “I’m here! I am here—for you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“How you figgah?” A shove at my shoulder had me stumble into a retreating wave. “You goin’ six feet undah.”
The lineup had come to rapid life, all speed-stroking toward shore to catch the fight.
Lani rode an incoming wave, along with two of her brethren. The pair gave her space for safety, but all her attention zeroed in on me.
A sudden blow to my right kidney knocked the wind out of my lungs. But I refused to react. I wasn’t there to fight them. And I wouldn’t throw even one punch.
I sucked in a determined breath. “Lani!” She needed to know. In the next seconds of my life, before it was over, she needed to know how I felt. Even if I died trying to tell her.
“I love you!” The wave crashed, collapsing in on itself, but I made sure my words rose above the chaos. A punch hit my head from the side. Black dots fuzzed in, but I fought to stay standing, stumbling between two Samoan-built bodies that partially blocked my view of her.
She leapt from her board the moment the nose skidded over sand.
“I am here. For you,” I repeated.
A hard punch landed into my ribs. Bone cracked, fiery pain flared.
“Stop!” she screamed as she ran toward me.
Our eyes locked as I fell to my knees. Hers were filled with terror. Mine teared up with love. “Not going anywhere,” I bit out through the pain as my vision began to fuzz.
When she got within reach, a muscled arm clotheslined her, sweeping her off her feet. Koa. She slapped and scratched at her brother, kicking and flailing in his arms. “Don’t kill him! Please! Leave him alone!”
A kick to my back. Pain exploded up my spine.
Her form blurred as sobs racked her body. “I love you too, Mase. I love you too!”
Struggling for breath, as my awareness faded, I clung to her words, to what I’d hoped for—what I’d known.
I know you do, Lani.
Mase…
An incessant beep droned rhythmically.
My head throbbed.
Every muscle ached.
Throat bone dry, I tried to swallow. Then I choked out a ragged cough.
Excruciating pain exploded up both sides of my ribs.
“Fuck,” I bit out. Then coughed. Then winced in more pain.
When I tried to open my eyes, tightness burned across swollen skin on my eyelids. I managed to lift one a crack, nothing more. Monitors glowed green on a contraption over my shoulder. When I lifted an aching arm, a prick of pain pinched the back of my hand. IV lines stuck out from my skin, led to a bag hung from a metal stand.
Hazy memories hovered on the fringes of my mind. A sharp punch to my kidney. A punishing kick to my ribs. Again. And again.
“Finally. You’re awake.” Father. His terse words were laced with judgment, as if I’d been sleeping in too late—instead of recovering from a near-fatal beating.
“What are you doing here?” I rasped. More agonizing coughing followed.
“Trying to make sure you’re not dead.”
“Not dead.” Could’ve fooled me, though—clearly I’d woken up in hell.
“Got water?” And a few minutes to catch up?
“Ice chips.” Mother. A low clinking sounded to my right.
With my good hand I reached out, a rigid plastic cup pressed into my palm a second later. Trying to ignore why they would be in my room…in a hospital—thousands of miles away from everything they held sacred, dead center in a world they sneered at with contempt—I tipped the cup to my face. Wet coldness hit my lips, my chin. A few chips made it into my mouth. Half of it fell onto my chest.
I sucked on the bits of ice, trying to get some moisture into my throat. “Why are you here?” I hoped to God here still meant Maui, that they hadn’t kidnapped me.
“We’re taking you back with us,” my mother replied, tone matter-of-fact.
Good. Still on the island. Somewhere near Leilani. “No, you’re not.”
“We’ll see about that, son.” Father’s voice held its usual layer of threat.
“No, you won’t. And don’t call me ‘son,’” I insisted again. “Son is someone you love, not a pawn in your political game.”
My brain started screaming inside of my skull, every heartbeat a lancing stab. “Where’s the nurse’s button?” I huffed out through shortened breaths.
“What do you need?” My mother’s voice drew near, hovering over my face.
“The nurse.”
Seconds later, I heard a door open. “What can I do for ya, Mr. Price?” Lyrical tones held a distinctive Southern accent.
“My son needs you,” my mother replied.
“I was addressin’ yer son.”
Stern. Good. “Need them to…leave,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Head…killing me. Got…meds?”
“Out.” The nurse’s warning tone came from near the foot of my bed.
“But,” my mother argued, “we have a right to—”
“You heard the man. Out! He’s the boss.”
After a silent pause, my father’s leather-soled shoes shuffled while my mother’s heels clicked. “We’ll be back to finish this,” he ground out. Had to get the last word in, veiled as a threat: the Senator’s MO.
Moments later, the hum of a motor sounded as my shoulders began to slant upward, the top of the bed raising. “Here ya go, Mr. Price.”
“Mase,” I corrected. The other sounded to
o much like my old man.
“Mase.” She placed a cup in my hand and gently lifted. Through my slitted eye, I made out a bendy straw. She lifted a small paper cup containing two white tablets and tipped it to my lips. I cracked my mouth open enough to let the meds tumble inside. “These are Vicodin. Should knock yer pain right out.”
aka: knock me out.
But with the level of pain screaming through every cell in my body, I didn’t argue.
I sucked in a mouthful of water, downing the wide tablets on a forceful swallow. Then I took another swig to coat my throat before she stole the cup away.
“Anyone else been by?” I asked before she left.
Her voice came from farther away, near the door. “Pretty young thang, volcano of attitude?”
I huffed out a laugh. Then I winced as pain exploded up one side of my face, across my ribs. Holding my breath for a few beats, I tried to ignore the pain, then blew out a slow breath. “Yeah, that’s her. Leilani.”
“Oh, she’s been by our station. More’n once. Yer parents sent her away.”
“Any way we can bring her back?”
“Sure thang, sweet cheeks.” The door whooshed.
I waited as the rhythmic beeping continued, the only sound remaining.
Beep…
So weird my parents had flown out. They never came for anything, not anything good.
Beep…
And Leilani had come.
Beep…
Through the fog of painkillers taking hold, I wondered how long I’d been unconscious. How bad it had to be that family who’d never bothered to show an ounce of support or care in my life had dropped every carefully scheduled political and social event to come to my aid.
Beep…
My head grew too heavy to hold upright, and I tipped it back onto the pillow. An odd crinkle sounded, like paper getting crunched in the pillow or maybe it was the sleeve of a hospital gown. But when I turned my cheek, cotton. I rubbed my fingers on the bed: cotton. Maybe the sound came from a crushed tag. The drugs had to be affecting my brain already.
“Mase...”
My one eye could barely crack open. It shut a split second later. But I felt the warmth of her fingers on my arm.
“Lani, I…” love you.
In the far reaches of my mind, I heard her soothing voice. But I couldn’t make out the words.
When I awoke again, the beeping continued.
My eyes opened easier this time.
Annnd my parents sat on a couch on the other side of the room.
I sighed. “I want you both to leave. Not just this room. Hawai‘i. Go back home.”
My father arched a brow at me. “And you’re staying?”
“Yes.”
He snorted. “Why? So they can beat you to a pulp again?”
“You’re no different.”
“Watch your tone.” He tilted his head an inch downward in the way he often did, glaring at me from under his brows.
“You mean my words? Truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
“What truth?” Even in my mother’s whispered tone, I heard her confusion, the denial.
They truly had no idea what they’d done: narcissists to the core.
“I took harder blows from you—only yours were verbal. They cut far deeper.”
His nostrils flared, but he didn’t argue. Hard to dispute fact.
“At least Leilani’s brothers are fighting for something, protecting what they believe in. I just got in the way. What are you fighting for? What do you believe in? Sure as hell isn’t me.”
Shock registered on his face. “That girl’s brothers did this?”
Some of them. Not all. And none in their right mind. The reason was greater than me. I got that. But the man in the room with me was worse. He couldn’t see the problem—even though I practically held up a mirror and it stared him in the face.
“Her brothers didn’t do this,” I finally replied. “No person did this. Oppression did.”
On a deep breath, pain speared into my chest. I winced, but gritted my teeth, worked my way through a full inhale, a slow exhale, then kept going. Because I had to get it all out. “And ‘that girl’ is my girlfriend. And her name is Leilani.” I kept my tone low and calm. But my words held the weight of an entire lifetime of frustration of being viewed as unworthy.
Father crossed his arms, staring at me, incredulous.
Mother sat down, but still looked at me. Tears began to glitter in her eyes. Good. About time one of them felt the gravity of the situation.
I grabbed the cup from my table, then swallowed a sip of water from melted ice chips before I glanced back at them. “And until you take a hard look at who you are and what you do, you’ll never be any different than any other angry bully. In fact, you’re not only the problem, you’re worse.”
“I’ve heard enough.” He leveled that glare at me again. “Too much sun has fried your brain. You’re coming home with us.”
I snorted. Pain flared, in my ribs, up my face. But I still smiled through it. Damn shit was all kinds of funny. “Why? To live a lie? So you can pretend to your constituents that you have a whole family? Well, got news for you, Dear Ole Dad. Your family is broken. And you swung the sledgehammer.”
Rage widened his eyes, clenched his jaw. “Claire.”
My mother stood, blinked away burgeoning tears, then pressed to his side. Like a dog heeling to its master.
I’d never realized until that moment that she might’ve had a different point of view once.
But then she spoke with steel hardening her tone, with no one forcing her. “If you don’t come home, we’re cutting you off.”
I almost laughed. They thought they could control me with money.
“I don’t need my trust fund.”
“Since when?” He rolled his eyes, actually had the balls to disrespect me at the exact moment they thought they had me.
“Since always.”
Disbelief washed the harshness from their expressions. She shook her head. “From the moment you turned eighteen, you’ve been withdrawing money from the account.”
I shrugged with my one good shoulder. “Automatic transfers to an account in my name alone, money I’ve never touched. Money you can never control.”
“But how have you supported yourself?”
“With jobs. Two and three, to begin with. But you never bothered to ask what I did with my time before I moved out. You probably didn’t even notice I’d been gone before I moved in with Cade.” Even then, I’d made sure the construction jobs I took more than covered my expenses.
“So leave,” I repeated. “You have no hold on me. You began to lose your grip when you gave all your love to your other son. Was it even love, then? Did you even love Deke? Or was it simply that he was cursed enough to be the first son. And he fit into your definition of the ideal family perfectly.”
Both of them visibly changed, features hardening in outrage at my cold accusations, faces reddening, chests rising and falling with shorter breaths.
“Did you think I wouldn’t notice? The son you forgot? The one you never wanted.”
“Enough!” A barked order from the patriarch.
“Is it? I guess it is. You only want to hear what gets you elected. All you care about is power and praise from all the minions gullible enough to believe your lies.”
“Enough.” The snarled whisper made it through peeled-back lips. A vein on his forehead pulsed, threatening to explode.
“Yeah. We’re done.” Satisfied I’d made my point, I pressed the nurse’s button.
When the nurse entered the room, I stared for a beat at my parents’ outraged expressions, then nodded toward the door. “Out.”
The nurse glanced at me. “They causin’ you grief, honey?”
“No.” The absence of emotion surprised me, but then, my parents had sucked that well dry long ago. The glaring void crystalized my thoughts on the matter, though. “Not anymore.”
In a way, the beating I�
�d taken on the outside had dealt the final death blow to the suffering I’d endured on the inside. Because all of their anger was temporary and none of it had really been about me—it had been about them.
What mattered to me? An island girl I wanted to share my love with.
“I’ve got just the thang for ya’.” The nurse disappeared before I could stop her; I didn’t want my mind numbed with drugs again.
Dropping my head back, my eyes drifted shut as my thoughts shifted to Leilani. The sweet scent of plumeria soon followed.
“Mase?”
My eyes blinked open to the most beautiful sight: Lani’s smile. I reached my hand toward her. “Heyyy…”
“I just saw your parents leave.”
“They tip over any medical equipment on the way out?”
“No. Your dad had a tight grip on your mom’s arm. And they stormed down the hall. Punched the elevator button three times so hard all the nurses popped their heads up to watch.”
“C’mere.” She stood too far away. “I need to touch you.”
Hesitation washed over her face, but she took slow steps toward me until she reached the middle of the bed. Standing her ground there, she squared her shoulders, then rested her hand on the edge of the bed, inches from mine. “Why were they so upset?”
I pulled in a slow breath, then reached my fingers out. Inches became a hairsbreadth. Without lifting my hand, I could reach her. But her shortened breaths stopped me.
My heart ached to make things right with her, but I could wait. As long as it took, for her to be okay with us, I would wait. “Because they couldn’t herd their black sheep home.”
“They wanted you home?” Her dark slender brows furrowed deeply. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted from them?”
“No.” Not even close. “All my life, I wanted them to accept me for who I am. Love me. Funny thing about love; it has to come from a place of selflessness. My parents? Not a chance. And all they care about is themselves.”
Her head tilted a little. “But didn’t they come out here? Doesn’t that say something?”
“Yeah. They cared about themselves a lot. My near-death experience looks bad to their campaign. Me out here ‘cavorting with the natives’ is bad enough. But to get the shit kicked out of me in front of national media?” —I nodded toward the stack on the end of the couch, front-page news articles the nurses had brought at my request— “Smudges their pristine family name. Their empire is at stake.”
