by Eden Butler
“I’d even let them go if it makes things easier for you.”
That heartbeat in Kona’s throat dropped and for a moment he actually considered asking Mark to go ahead, to back away and leave so he, Kona, could fit in better.
But that wasn’t what a father does.
They don’t trade their children’s happiness to satisfy their own. Mark being out of their lives would crush Ransom, would level Keira—and would devastate Mark. There was no way Kona would be responsible for any of that.
“No, Mark. That’s not gonna happen.” He’d been thinking about this for months, ever since Keira told him Mark had been responsible for her quick escape from New Orleans. He thought about thanking Mark and meaning it, but he hadn’t mustered the courage for that. Not then, not when being around his son, around Keira felt so strange and so right all at the same time. Now he could. Now Kona needed to. “I’m an asshole. I’m a jealous asshole.”
Mark laughed, grin wide. “This is not something I’m just figuring out.”
“I realize that. You don’t have to tell me what a punk I was in college.” Kona shook his head, remembering that little tussle that never quite happened when Mark had taken Keira to Kona’s friend’s party, back when Kona and Keira were just starting to feel the attraction that would bind them together, but before Kona realized just how special Keira really was. She’d looked beautiful. With Mark, she’d looked happy and kid-Kona couldn’t stand to see them together, had hated that it was Mark making Keira double over in laughter. That was the day he started hating Mark Burke. This was the day when he would stop.
“You got more time with them. That’s not on you and there is no way I could ever thank you for stepping in when I couldn’t. They love you, I see that.”
“Kona, they love me, but you’re their family. All of that shit, the wedding, the media, Keira doesn’t care about any of it. That’s not who she is. The money, the fame, the lavish resorts and snooty wedding planners, she doesn’t need any of it.”
It wasn’t the first time Kona had heard that. Ransom had warned him, had told Kona that he thought Keira felt uncomfortable with the lavish plans and stresses that their wedding had brought. Kona was just too stubborn to listen. “I just wanted to give her what I couldn’t all those years ago.”
“You are. You’re here. You’re back and I hope not going anywhere.”
“Definitely not.”
Mark nodded, smiling and this time Kona knew he meant it. “Then maybe listen when things are getting too crazy for her. You wanna keep her happy, then just be with her. Keira isn’t high maintenance. There’s no need for you show off to the world that you’ve got a beautiful woman and a great kid. They don’t care about that shit.”
“I know that.” Tired, frustrated by his own stupidity, Kona rubbed his face, wanted all the scattered thoughts in his head to sort themselves out. “I’m just so… she makes me so fucking happy.”
“Then just be happy, man and let Keira be happy too.”
In all his life, Kona had never seen a more beautiful woman. And he had seen a lot of beautiful women. Movie stars, singers, models—his football career and SuperBowl wins had made beautiful women as commonplace in his life as designer clothes and luxury cars.
None of them could touch Keira.
Kona walked out of the cottage with the bright porch lights and light pole at the front of the house beaming dim light and large shadows across the beach. And in the middle of all that dance of light and dark, Keira sat on a large rock, her tattered wedding dress wet at the hem and her knees curled up for her to rest her chin on.
With each step Kona discovered one piece of silk or another, as though Keira in her anger, her rage, had literally torn apart that dress, leaving bits of fabric behind like breadcrumbs. He followed each one.
He heard her humming, with her cheek on her knees, staring away from him. Her voice was raspier than he’d ever heard it, as though the night air had brought on phlegm and congestion she hadn’t bothered to release. She’d start in on a tune, stop in the middle and then start up again.
When she stopped short and pulled her skirt closer around her legs, Kona walked faster, loving how the moonlight picked up the red streaks in her hair, how her pale, flawless skin glowed against the dark sky and how the elegant swirls of her hibiscus tattoo moved when she breathed, when she moved her strong arms. She’d gotten that tattoo for him, years ago, had it placed right in the center of her back where Kona had always loved to kiss her.
Dear God, how he loved her.
“They call this Magic Beach,” he started, easing his way toward her with slow, cautious steps. “It’s because of all the treasures along the shore—shells that look like silver, ivory. It’s lucky to find something like that.” Kona was careful when he eased next to her, squatting in front of her sitting on that lava rock. “Luka told me once that an ugly troll lived in the cave and took bad kids who swam too far out in the water.”
Keira sniffed, finally moving her chin across her folded arms to look down at him. “What did you have to say about that?”
Kona’s mouth twitched, then slid up slow on one side. “I told him he was a liar because he’d swum out past the cave a hundred times and he wasn’t taken and he was the worst kid ever.”
Kona laughed to himself, not put off or upset when Keira didn’t even smile at him. Next to his leg was a half empty bottle of warm champagne. It had been in their rental unit, a $1500 parting gift from Christenson for his flirty wedding planner.
“This any good?”
She sat up a little, resting her elbows on her thighs. “Not anymore. Too warm now. The fizz is gone.”
He hated this. There was too much silence between them, too much tension. It hadn’t been like that in New Orleans, not in the past few months, not sixteen years ago. But tonight on the beach, with Keira’s eyes out of focus and her bare arms shaking from the cold, Kona felt her distance, the defensive cast of her body that told him she didn’t want his touch.
When she shuddered against a low breeze and Kona saw the immediate shiver and gooseflesh dot over her arms, he took off his jacket and eased it over her shoulders. Her back immediately straightened but Kona didn’t comment, and she couldn’t, no matter how angry she was at him, keep him from kissing her temple. Keira didn’t slap him, didn’t lash out or retreat as though she couldn’t stand his touch. She blinked slowly and for a fraction of a moment when her chin lifted, her glistening eyes met his, rather than sit on the sand, Kona took a chance and joined her on the rock. She protested at first, but without conviction, and made no comment on how closely he sat next to her, and didn’t complain about how tightly he held her against his chest.
“You should go inside. You’re chilly.”
“I like it out here. There’s only the sound of the water.” She leaned away from him and looked across the waves. “Or at least there was only the sound of the water.”
He let her little jab go, not willing to risk even a sarcastic comment that would have her pulling further away from him.
“I hurt you.” It was simple, spoken low, but Kona knew she heard him. “I promised you I wouldn’t do that again.”
“Everyone is in pain, Kona. All over the world. No one gets out of life without feeling it.”
“That doesn’t mean I should create it for you. That doesn’t give me the right to break my promises.”
She came off the rock, but kept his jacket over her shoulders as she stood, pulling her arms through the sleeves and then wrapping them around her waist. She never stopped staring out across the water.
“Ransom…”she started, then faltered.
“Has a big heart, baby. He gets it from you.” When Keira nodded, unable to disagree with Kona, he stood up, too, tried standing near her without her retreating. “My mom’s dying.”
“I know. I heard Malia talking about it today.” She finally turned to look up at him, dismissing his frown. “I also heard her talk about your father, how he promised to mar
ry your mother, but instead left her and married a haole.”
“It messed her up.” Kona slipped his hands into his pockets and joined Keira as her gaze turned back to the dark waves. “He died a few years back.” Keira moved her head, expression open, curious. “She never said anything. I wouldn’t have known anything about it until Devon told me they got a message from his family, his brother, actually. Kaino’s niece was tracking down the friends he’d had here on the island for him. The brother told me he was sure Kaino knew something was off. He wasn’t feeling right. I guess one conversation led to another and then he found out about me and Luka. Then he was diagnosed and wanted to meet us. He was dead by the time I got the message.”
Kona closed his eyes when Keira made a noise, something that sounded bitter and frustrated. “She is a hard woman, Keira. She was hardest on Luka. She never wanted to believe that I was to blame for anything I’ve done. Not getting you pregnant, not getting Luka killed. I knew that she believed I was something I wasn’t and God help me, I never wanted to disappoint her.”
Finally Keira faced him, tilting her head as though his explanation didn’t make sense to her. “So you let her manipulate you?”
“My guilt over getting Luka killed made me ignore her manipulating me.”
Kona shut his eyes when Keira’s voice softened and she touched his arm. “Kona, that wasn’t your fault.”
“I wish that were true, baby.” He knew she only touched him to give him comfort. He knew she wasn’t silently telling him she’d forgiven all the stupidity he’d caused that day. But Kona couldn’t have Keira this close, have her touch him even silently and not move toward her, not touch her back.
Keira’s face hardened, her features wrinkling as she stared at him, and he imagined she was likely thinking what an idiot he was. He didn’t stop her when she walked closer toward the shoreline with her arms still wrapped tight around her. He didn’t follow, either; she seemed to need that distance, but God, how he wanted to hold her, to take her hair down from those loose braids that knotted around her curls.
“You need to forgive her.”
He would have never thought those words would leave Keira’s mouth. He thought maybe he’d heard her wrong, possibly that the champagne had dulled her senses. One step, two, and Kona moved behind her, but didn’t touch. “What?”
Keira shook her head, turned to face Kona with her hand rubbing her neck. “I was mad today, because you and Ransom kept her being there from me. I was mad at you for not telling me about the job and I was so tired of the photographers and the fuss and the… stress that being in your world was causing me.” He had to will himself from touching her, from pulling her close when she laid her hand on his arm. “But, Kona, you have to forgive her.”
Neither of them had been blessed with sweet, supportive mothers, and Kona often wondered, between the two of them, who had been handed the worst. “Did you forgive your mother?”
“Yes.” That nod was slow, and Keira looked behind him as though she needed to weigh her answer before she finished. “But only just recently.”
“And did it make you feel better?”
“It made me less angry.” Once again, she pulled away from him and hugged herself around the waist. “Having Ransom, worrying about him, trying to do the best that I could for him, it gave me perspective. I didn’t realize that until she was dead, until I found some things she’d kept of me, my career. She was awful to me. She was ignorant and controlling and she was a drunk. But Kona, we only get one mama. No matter how freaking frustrating they are and even if most days we want to ring their necks, they’re still our mothers.”
Kona wondered what she’d found among her mother’s possessions that would have eased her anger so much. He wondered how she could soften so quickly from a few months ago, when she threatened to walk away from him simply because he had been considering welcoming his mother back into his life. Now, this new perspective had not only erased her anger, but had also dimmed her hatred. He couldn’t imagine her ever forgiving Lalei, but did that mean she’d let Kona and Ransom have what little time was left with her? “You’d let Ransom around my mom?”
“She’s his grandmother.”
“And you?”
That shaking head and closed eyes told Kona all he needed to know. “I won’t be making her roasts for Sunday lunch. But this isn’t about me. It’s about you making your peace before it’s too late. This isn’t about her. It’s about you.”
He couldn’t blame her and if Kona was being honest with himself, part of him really didn’t trust his mother, either. But regardless of what she had done in the past, he hated that she was sick, and he knew that Keira was right; he’d never be able to live with the guilt if he didn’t at least try to forgive her. When she’d arrived at the resort earlier today, looking pale and exhausted, their conversation had been awkward, their smiles forced. It was only Ransom’s efforts that eased the animosity Kona held for the woman. Keira had raised such an amazing kid and he’d never be able to thank her enough for it.
It was hard for Kona to refrain from stepping behind where Keira was once again staring across the water, to keep from finally touching her, holding her, kissing her senseless. But his Wildcat was stubborn, and he knew that even as she urged him to forgive his mother, she hadn’t completely forgiven him for what he himself had kept from her. That was confirmed when Keira looked over shoulder, her expression stern as though just looking at him was a struggle.
“You didn’t tell me about the job in California.” She released her gaze, then brought it back to the water. “I had to find out from a freaking reporter.”
Freaking Scott and his big mouth. No, he thought. Don’t deflect. “I didn’t know if I was going to take it. That’s why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d be upset and I didn’t want to be the cause of that.”
“So why not turn it down?”
Kona sat down on the rock, just to be closer to her and rested his elbows on his knees, scrubbed his hand over his head. “I don’t know, baby. I should have. I meant to, but Devon kept talking about commentating for the playoffs and maybe the SuperBowl…” he looked up at her when she grunted, frustrated by Kona’s half-assed excuses. The sleeves of his jacket covered her hands. “I’m an idiot,” he said, simply.
“I’d never call you that, Kona.” She looked at him but still kept herself away, maintaining her guard with her shoulders stiff. “I’d say selfish, maybe, an attention whore, but you’re aren’t an idiot.”
“Keira, I love you.”
That admission pulled the faint wrinkles from her face and removed her frown. She was surprised, mouth dropped open and eyebrows lifted. “I… I love you,” she started, but Kona thought it hurt her to say so, like her love for him was something she meant to keep at a distance, like it was a temptation she needed to avoid. “I’ve loved you for a very long time, Kona.” He hated that look she gave him, hated more that she hadn’t smiled once since he came to her. “A part of me will always be in this world because of you. You gave me that beautiful little man in there.”
He stood up then, and didn’t pause when she dropped her eyes to the sand, trying to avoid his gaze. Kona couldn’t help himself. He wanted her. He loved her. She had to see that, she had to stop avoiding him and the look of desperation he knew was on his face. “Baby, please don’t turn away from me,” he said when she backed up, out of his reach. “I want to touch you so badly. I want to tell you I’m sorry and try again. I wanna keep trying, Keira. Please let me.”
There were tears running down her face that tore Kona apart when he noticed them. His chest clenched, ached with a pain he knew he could never be rid of if she wouldn’t let him in. Not when he’d caused those tears, made her that miserable.
“I… I don’t belong in your world, Kona.” The words came out through a hiccupping sob, made her voice crack and was followed by more tears.
That ache in his chest traveled up, choked him as he watched her hold herself, refusing his comfort. I
f he died, right then, his skin charring, the cells in his body evaporating, Kona thought it would hurt less. He couldn’t take it, not the sound of her sobs or the way she covered her face. But he also couldn’t speak, couldn’t do more than dig his feet into the sand to avoid rushing to her.
When she had quieted and the tears slowed, Keira’s frustration broke, and she whipped around to gaze at him, her eyes blazing. “Say… say something, please.”
“I’m still trying to wrap my head around you saying you don’t belong in my world.”
“It’s true.”
“The hell it is.”
He’d had enough of this and wasn’t gentle when reached out and pulled on her wrists, held them against his chest. He could say “don’t cry” or “please” but he knew without thinking that Keira didn’t want that, it wasn’t what she needed. And Kona’s mind was too full of her stinging words and her tears, and of how his breath was now shallow and weak. He needed something to pull himself back to earth and so he took that from Keira, covering her cheeks with his large hands so she could not pull away from him.
“I don’t have a world without you.” And then, Kona kissed her. Hard. He took her lips because they were his, devoured her mouth because he owned it, just as she owned every atom that made up the stupid, stubborn, selfish asshole that he was.
There was moisture on his face, tears that were not his, tears that kept coming the longer he kissed her, the deeper he claimed her, and Kona couldn’t stop, refused to stop until she responded, until her tears subsided.
