Thin Love (68 page)

There is never enough liquor in this house.

Keira drains the bottle, frowning at the drip from the neck, how it barely fills her second glass of Crown. It is down her throat, stinging with a lovely burn before the ice even rattles against the glass.

She won’t cry. She refuses. But this helpless feeling, the worry, consumes her. Alana, again. That foul woman had ripped to shreds what Kona had tried to build with Ransom this summer. The clock next to the buffet reads midnight. Ransom hasn’t called, neither has Kona and Keira can’t help the crippling weight of what may have happened from consuming her.

Kona’s mother had her part to play in the heartache of the past. And now, sixteen years later, she was still dealing her hand; still eager to keep Keira from the happiness that was in her reach. Would the woman ever stop?

That pinch in her throat, the way it moves up her neck, how it tightens, pisses Keira off, until her eyes are stinging. The fear is too heavy, the weight of it making breathing impossible.

“No,” she says to herself, walking into the kitchen, pushing back bags and cards until she finds the Scotch among the condolence gifts. Glendronach, single malt. Blake Shelton’s camp sent it over when news of her mother’s death reached Nashville. There were many others; sympathy cards, empty vases that had held flower arrangements, none of which Keira had found the time to toss away. Gifts given without the knowledge of Keira’s non-existent grief. Most barely registered. Except the Glendronach. That Shelton had damn good taste and was still happy about the song Keira wrote for him.

She doesn’t even feel the burn as it slides down her throat. The stuff is smooth, crisp. She pours another glass, eager to drown the worry, to distract herself from glancing at the clock.

Keira had run from the domineering force of her mother’s expectations. She’d run away from the woman’s fists, her flat palms, and landed in Nashville; she’d landed into safety and warmth and love. She had Ransom. He had become her salvation. Her haven. Her sanctuary, but now the past had come back. The past and his wide, beautiful shoulders; those strong, confident hands; those words Keira tries not to believe. There had been so much drama, so much heartache between them. Would it ever stop?

The next sip is deeper, a gulp that Keira feels as she tries to dull the memory of Kona’s kiss, the promise of his lips, his tongue. The pain… she couldn’t take any more of it. Even if she wanted to.

Can she go back to that past? She wants to. Sometimes, Keira needs to and maybe part of her forgets that the past hasn’t always been some rose-colored dream. Part of her buries the reality; the memories of those days before Kona when she thought she might die from loneliness. That part of her that doesn’t bother with the way reality fell, with the proper order of who she was with Kona, of who she thought she’d never become.

She forgets that there were nights that he made her cry so hard her eyes burned and snot coated above her top lip. She forgets about his jealousy, the looks and whispers about her others made because she loved him. She forgets about the constant fear of losing him.

Kona had been her daydreams, he filled her nightmares and, back then, she’d watched herself from a distance, just a shadow monitoring the stupid, stupid things she’d do whenever he was around. She’d loved it, she couldn’t refuse it. And to him, she was just the same. All-consuming, a threat to anything he wanted his tomorrows to be. A lit match, barreling too close to that tantalizing fuse, waiting, panting with hungry anticipation for the ignition.

But she didn’t remember that, not at first. Not when she forgave him as she held her son in her arms.

She’d just remembered the way his mouth fit so perfectly against her neck when they slept in that too small dorm room bed. She’d remembered the way small sparks of light would kindle in his eyes—hungry eagerness, dangerous joy—when he’d set her temper off. He did it on purpose. She did. But a cyclone and a volcano aren’t supposed to connect. The results were disastrous. It had been life altering and now she has to remind herself of the danger. She has to recall how all that passion bit into her, made her ache. How it nearly destroyed everything she wanted for herself.

In her mind, that eighteen year old Keira tells her to ignore the truth, that it doesn’t matter. That girl reminds Keira that her heart had never been fuller than when Kona held it. No one could make her smile, make her ache with belly laughter like him. That loud mouth, nagging girl reminds her that his touch is searing, soul shaking and that no other man alive would ever bring her that much joy. Not like that. Not like Kona.

The door closes, echoes against the low voices as Ransom and Kona enter the kitchen. Her son stares at her, eyes squinting as he shifts his attention to the bottle in front of her, then back to her face.

“Mom?”

A quick wipe against her face to dry it and Keira greets her son, holding his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She picks up on how easy the vibe is between them, how Ransom and Kona exchange a look, how the big Hawaiian leans against the doorframe, pretending to scan through his phone, giving Keira a moment with their son.

“You better now?” She doesn’t like the dark circles that have formed under her boy’s eyes, how the day and its drama shows in his features.

“I’m okay. It’s done now and we’re cool.” Ransom moves his chin to the table. “What about you? You drinking for a specific reason?”

“I was nervous.” Ransom’s hair feels thick against her fingers as Keira brushes his bangs out of his eyes. “Didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Nothing to worry about, Mom, honest. We’re good.” Keira follows Ransom’s gaze as he nods to Kona, as his father offers them both a tentative smile. “I’m beat, though. Gonna take a melatonin and crash.” He kisses Keira’s forehead, then leans toward her ear, voice low. “Don’t hold grudges, Mom. It’s freakin pointless.”

Her son taps Kona’s shoulder, exchanges a brief farewell before he leaves the kitchen, leaving them alone, staring back at one another.

She cannot take the silence, the long seconds that fill awkwardness, uncertainty in the room and so Keira deflects, as is habit, returns back to the table and the numbing relief the Glendronach offers.

“That’s bad for you.”

She needs this liquid strength, to steel herself for what she will say. It will be the last chance he has; this time, Keira won’t run.

“Keira?” he says, standing at her side, looking down at her and the bottle in front of her. “What are you doing?”

She sits up, voice raspy, raw. “Drinking a bottle of forty-two-hundred dollar Scotch.” He settles next to her at the table, elbows on that smooth wood surface and Keira slides the bottle toward him. “You like this stuff, if memory serves. It’s old, around forty years.”

“Why are we drinking?”

Something about Kona breaks her resolve. It always has and it’s no different now. She can’t hide anything from him. Those looks, the determined tone of his voice, strips away her mask, completely shatters the hard veil that hides what she’s feeling. The tears start, feel like an insult, but one more sip and she clears her throat, lifts her chin to face him. “I’m tired, Kona.” She shakes off his hand pulling on her fingers and moves her glass in front of him. She doesn’t need the distraction of his touch. “Drink with me.”

He hesitates, quiet, considering before he holds onto the glass. “Alright.”

Kona’s sip is long and Keira likes the stretch of his neck as he downs the drink, how his throat works as he swallows.
Damn.
Just him doing something so mundane as drinking has Keira hungry for a taste of him.

Eyes fluttering, shaking away the sensation, Keira pulls on the bottle, swigging from it like it’s water and not burning whiskey. “I heard the press conference.” Kona’s stare is easy, but behind those dark eyes, Keira catches his focus, the steely gaze that tells her he’s thinking, considering her and the thought makes her nervous, makes her eager. “It’s good. Ransom needed that. You love him?” She knows the answer to that question, but she wants to hear him say it. She wants Kona to confirm that he had fallen for their son just as quickly as she had.

Kona’s mouth twitches as he fights a grin, but his nod confirms what she already knew. “Of course I love him.”

“Funny how that happens, right? How sudden. How quick.” She tries for another swig, but Kona takes the bottle, fills his glass again. “Never thought I could fall in love with someone I’d only know for a few seconds, but that’s how it was,” Keira says, closing her eyes at the memory of that day. God, Ransom had been beautiful as a baby. Huge pools of dark eyes, perfect brown skin. The moment she held him, Keira had been smitten. “They pulled him out of me, laid him on my chest and that screaming, swollen little thing just looked up at me like I had all the answers for him. I didn’t have a single one.”

“Keira, you worked miracles. He’s amazing.” Kona’s voice is sweet, soft and Keira hears the emotion it, the pride.

“I had help.” The sting in her eyes again, the frustration and fear, burning hotter than the throb in her throat and Keira does not care about Kona seeing her tears. She doesn’t care that she looks weak, vulnerable in front of the one person she wanted to believe she was fearless. Pushing the glass away, Kona reaches for her wrist, fingers closing around it and Keira can only shut her eyes against the sensation of his skin on hers. “Sometimes I think it’s all hopeless. Me, you, us together.”

“Why?”

Her skin flushes when Keira touches her face. “Because I thought I was too broken, that there was nothing left of my heart,” she says, covers his hand with hers.

Kona is at her side and he leans over, stretches to kneel in front of her. She could hear his every move, feel every stare even if she was blind.

“What else do I have to do?” Kona’s breath is warm, smells delicious with the smallest hint of whiskey. That scent makes Keira’s mouth water. Warm fingers back on her skin, Kona on his knees in front of her and his free hand on the back of her chair—a cage of his body, but one Keira doesn’t retreat from it. “You are the most stubborn, bullheaded woman I have ever met.”

“I said
sometimes
I think that. Not always.”

That curious expression on his face is deep, confused and Keira hears her old self whispering, voice growing as Kona frowns, his low working growl falls over her and Keira lets go, steps back to let that girl she’d been running from surface.

“I just need to know. What do you want from me?” For a moment, he is shocked, as though the question is ridiculous, but Keira’s posture is easy, her breath comes out smooth, calm and Kona’s small frown leaves his face.

“Everything. I want it all.” He has never looked at her the way he is now. Eyes so impassive, so steady, but beneath them there is heat, fire, and Keira swears she can feel it licking against her skin, kissing her with that sweet burn.

“Even if there’s not much left to give? Even if my heart is too damaged?”

Touch gentle, voice softer, Kona rubs his thumbs along her cheeks and Keira is stunned by the bright sheen in his eyes. “Even then. Besides, it’s not too broken, baby. If it was, you’d be asleep in your bed, not bothered by everything that’s happened today. If there was nothing left, you wouldn’t have crumpled when our son went on a violent rampage. You wouldn’t have bothered to come see me in my hotel room.” Kona’s breath is sticky sweet, warm against her face. “You wouldn’t have touched me, loved me like you did.” She holds her breath, heart strumming quick when Kona places his palm against it. “This thing is bigger, healthier than you realize, baby. I want to help you fix it. I want to spend the rest of my life fixing what I broke.”

Keira takes a breath, says a small prayer for strength and looks back into Kona’s eyes. “Then I have to say something to you.” She sits up, moving his touch from her face. “I’ll say this once and then I won’t ever mention it again.”

They were both to blame, in all of this. The running, the fighting, the distance, they both held equal pieces in that fault. Kona nods at her, folding his arms across his chest, stance defensive as he waits for her to say her peace.

“I deserved to be loved. I deserved for you to never stop loving me because I gave my heart to you. I put it in your hands. I trusted you with it. And Kona, you broke me. You broke me like I was nothing.” The slow blink he takes tells Keira that his guilt hasn’t left him. She wonders if it ever will. “You took everything that was precious to me, everything that I held so close to me and you let everyone tell you it didn’t matter. You listened to everyone else and ripped my heart into shreds. You filled me up, made me feel what I didn’t think was possible and the moment I was the happiest, the very second I thought it would last, you ripped what I’d given you like it was nothing, as if my heart, my love for you was just thin paper that could be crumbled between your fingers.” The light glints in Kona’s eyes, and the quivering of his chin belies his ability to contain his emotion, but Keira continues, needing to finish; needing him to know just how badly her heart had been shredded. “You broke me, Kona and if it hadn’t been for Ransom, for the small part of you that was left behind, I would have stayed broken.

Fingers in his hair, Kona looks around the room, searching for excuses, maybe grasping at reasons that would make sense to her. “I was a boy, Keira.”

“You were my world.”

“You said you forgave me. I don’t have the words and they wouldn’t mean anything to you. I could say I’m sorry, I’m so sorry a million times and they’ll still be words. What can I do?” He pushes back the chair until he is in front of Keira again, eyes pleading, desperate. “What can I do now for you to forgive me?”

“You don’t understand. This is what I’m telling you… I did forgive, Kona. I forgave you the second they put Ransom in my arms because your absolution was that perfect, precious soul. But I never forgot. I couldn’t. I had to learn my lesson. I had to remember what the ache felt like.” Keira grips onto Kona’s arm, wanting him to understand. “I had to remind myself that when you love someone so completely, when they consume everything you are and then they leave? Well, it hurts too much. Who I was then is not who I am now. And if you want to love me, to really love me, you need to understand that. That girl is gone, bebe. She died a long time ago.”