Ohana Legacy: Thin Love Series Bundle, page 51
part #1 of Thin Love Series
Kona broke her heart once. But it was Keira that left the remains tattered and frayed inside her. With his touch, his body, his brilliant, blinding love, he pulled it back together.
“I love you, Wildcat, so much I can’t breathe.”
She rocked into his body as he moved. “Then stop trying. We’ll...God...we’ll be breathless together,” she said, stroking her fingers over his heart and Kona paused, expression open, sweet.
His fingers were large, and when he slipped his palm over hers, Keira’s hand disappeared. “Together, baby. Always.”
August, 2015
Claiborne Proper University, New Orleans
Ransom was better than Kona. At everything. He was bigger, stronger and at eighteen, as a freshman at CPU, his boy was about to play his first game. No redshirts. No year of ineligibility.
Kona didn’t know who was more nervous; him, walking up and down the sidelines in his coaching garb—Blue Devils cap and polo; or Ransom bouncing on the balls of his feet a hundred yards away from him as their offense tried to earn a few points.
It could have been Keira who had the most frayed nerves. Kona turned around, squinted through the crowd until he spotted his wife. She was gorgeous, lit up with a glow that had nothing to do with game day excitement. It was that baby; the one that rounded her belly, the one she held with her arms around her stomach.
Kona grinned watching her, loving that he could see her eyes all the way from the sidelines. And when she stared back at him, gave him a wink, something twisted in his chest. It always did anytime she looked his way. It was habit, him moving his hand to his chest, resting it over his heart. “Yours,” he silently told her and he got a little flustered when she returned the gesture, moved her hand over her heart. “Yours,” she mouthed.
The moment was wrecked, interrupted by the fussing nearly two-year-old on her lap, that bushy haired boy who looked just like his older brother, acted too much like Kona. Little Koa spilled his drink and Keira rushed to clean up his mess, her cousin Leann at her side, hurrying to sooth the boy. She waved Kona off, nodded to the sideline and he followed her direction, saw Ransom sitting on the bench, knee bouncing.
“Brah, you alright?” Kona asked his son and they both turned when the whistle blew, when CPU took a penalty and the ball returned to LSU.
“Shit,” Ransom said and Kona tried not to laugh at him. The kid had been worked up for a month, worried how he’d perform at his first game.
The defense was summoned, return for their turn on the field, but Kona held Ransom back, pulled on his mask to get his boy to look at him.
“You got this, son. Just do your best.”
Ransom looked down, frowning. “That shadow, Dad. It’s freakin’ big.”
Kona took Ransom by the collar, hoped his voice is easy, calm. “Son, it’s just a shadow. Time to make your own.”
And Ransom took the field, running toward something Kona remembered, taking on his path with his eyes wide open. When the line formed and his boy immediately ran through two offensive linemen and headed straight for the quarterback, easily sacking him hard, Kona joined the rest of the crowd, jumping up and down.
Kona’s attention immediately returned to Keira, to her hands over her mouth, that wide smile again. That beautiful woman loved him. She loved him in whispers, in lyrics and rhyme. Keira loved Kona with a fierceness that rattled him, only hurt when she pulled away. She’d stopped running, stopped fighting the ghosts of the past and the guilt they used to cripple her. And when she stopped, when she let Kona hold her, love her and believed that he meant it, their life began. It would continue. Kona knew the only time love really dies is when we stop trying to revive it.
Keira and Kona, they never would.
MY BELOVED – A THIN LOVE NOVELLA
Copyright © 2014 Eden Butler
All rights reserved as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the Author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Author Publisher.
Edited by Sharon B. Browning
Cover Design by Tee Tate
Cover Image by ShutterShock
Section Headers by Tee Tate
Formatting by AB Formatting
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following word-marks and references mentioned in this work of fiction:
Books: Beloved by Toni Morrison; Locales: Turtle Bay Resort, Oahu, Hawaii; The City of New Orleans, Louisiana; The City of Nashville, Tennessee; Entities: ESPN; National Football League; Kahuku High & Intermediate School, Kahuku, Hawaii; Personalities: Joe Hill; Kealan Patrick Burke; Restaurants: Zippy’s, Honolulu
“Me and you, we got more yesterday than anybody.
We need some kind of tomorrow.”
—Toni Morrison, Beloved
Keira wanted to find that song again, the sweet notes she’d hummed to Kona just the night before. She thought if she found it, if it came to her, then its sound would drown out the rip of Kona’s shout, the harsh tone of him screaming her name over the clatter of cameras clicking.
But the song would not come to her over the sounds of the surf. She could only hear Kona’s voice, see those wide, scared eyes, the betrayal in his expression, how devastated he was that she was running again.
“I didn’t want this,” Keira said, waving her hand around the heavy white dress that Kona’s aunt had promised made her look like a princess. “I just wanted...” She took a swig from the bottle that was supposed to have toasted an abandoned celebration, and pulled off the veil they’d knotted between braids and twists in her hair, dropping it into the water. A tiny shower of baby’s breath fell with the mesh and Keira watched the tiny flowers fall, floating until they sank beneath the wet sand. “I wanted Kona.”
Keira could just make out the white of the veil in the darkness, the way it caught in the water; she watched unseeing as the waves pulled the fabric further and further from the shore. Her eyes blurred as the tears came again and she gripped the bottle of champagne tighter in her fist. It had long since warmed, wasn’t remotely refreshing anymore, but Keira wanted to numb herself; she ached to make that hurt, shocked expression on Kona’s face disappear from her memory.
She used the heavy skirt covering her legs to dry her face, not caring that the silk was fine, that this monstrosity of a dress cost more than that first tiny apartment in Nashville she’d scrimped and saved to afford at the age of twenty-three.
The sun had set hours earlier and Keira shifted her focus, eyes slipping up to watch the moon as it settled over the horizon, against the black waves and their white caps that reflected the moonlight. She only pulled her attention from the moon and those calm, easy waves when her cell phone chirped. A glance down told her it was Ransom again, likely desperate to find her, anxious to know why she had run. But Keira couldn’t face her son. She couldn’t face his father, either. Not yet. Not when they had both lied to her, had kept her in the dark about so much, both of them.
Yes, she had run again. It’s what she did, what felt natural, safe, to get away, to escape. But this time she had run not to protect a baby growing in her belly or to keep herself away from her mother’s abuse. This time, she had run to keep away from lies, from betrayal, from being told one thing and given another.
“I just wanted my Kona,” she said to the bottle in her hand, watching the waves slap against the rock at her feet, wishing she could go back, erase the day, erase the week and all the promises that Kona hadn’t kept and the reality of Keira being second string in her own life.
Mid-November, 2013
The Lake House
Kona was her perfect.
He snored. Sometimes, he left the toilet seat up and he always kept his massive shoes right next to the bed. Keira had broken her pinkie toe twice because of them. Kona was not perfect, but he was her perfect.
She loved the long, large planes of his body, the way his naked chest brushed her chin as he moved over her. She loved how he arched his neck, how he always held onto her, gazed down at her as he took her.
And Jesus, how she loved when he did that.
“Knees up, baby.” His voice was shaky, raspy, and that smile, that irresistible smile that Keira had learned decades before would be trouble, was still beautiful, still meant only for her. That smile grew even wider when she lifted her legs and pulled his hips closer.
“Like that?” Her eyebrow came up and she felt her cheeks ache when his tempting smile faltered, wavered under the strength of her movements.
Kona gripped the pillow above Keira’s head, grunting as he thrust harder into her, pushing her deeper into the mattress. “Yeah... shit, yes, baby, just like that.”
She would never be tired of them together, him inside her, the way he looked at her, the soft whisper of her name flitting off his lips as he climaxed. Their bodies sounded like music, coming together, skin damp, fingers nimble, eager as they touched each other. She’d missed this. He had only been gone a week this time and still her body missed his so much. It was all she could do to keep her pulse from bursting through her skin.
His arms shook, elbows trembling and Keira knew he would not last long. The nights had been too many and he’d missed her, too, had ached for her body while he was away on his latest temporary assignment with ESPN. She’d barely opened the door before he had her naked and flat on her back.
A quick kiss and she moved, pushed Kona over and on to his back against the large mattress, climbing over his lap, knees against his hips as she rode him. He fit his fingers around her waist but didn’t guide her, didn’t show Keira how to move. She knew already.
“Christ, you are beautiful, Wildcat.”
And she did feel beautiful, just then, with her back arching as he filled her, Kona’s hand cupping one breast, his low, awed words whispered into the dark room as she took him harder, deeper. She always felt beautiful with Kona. Every second she was with him, when he touched her, when he kissed her, even when she pretended to be asleep as he watched her. Keira felt like the most beautiful woman on earth, but that was Kona. That was what he did to her. She’d been without him for so long that just a few months of them together again, learning each other, planning a life, a future with their son, with more children that he begged her to have, felt like moments compacted, pressed together in something no one had a right to feel. The years of loneliness had disappeared in four short months and Keira and Kona were finally there together, the past misplaced in the happiness their new lives brought them.
Now Kona was pulling on her hips, urging Kiera to move faster and she took his invitation, feeling the swell of aching pleasure as it tingled through her whole body, down her legs to her feet, from her hips, straight from her core and she came around him, loving how hard he held her, how his grip was fierce, eager as he followed her in his own climax, and then spent, pulled her down to him.
Cheek against his chest, Keira smiled, ready to purr when he rubbed her back, kissed her forehead. Kona’s long sigh moved against her bangs and he rested his hand on the center of her back. “Never. Leaving. Again.”
“Uh huh.” She rolled off him, stretching against the soft cotton sheets as Kona ran his fingers along her stomach. “That’s just post-coital talk, Hale. You’ll leave again when they want you commentating on another game.”
“Nope. I made a decision.” One quick jerk of his hand and Kona swung Keira back on top of him, pressure tight on her back so she could not move away. “I’ve decided that Ransom can stay with Leann and you and I will live here, right in this bed for the rest of our lives.”
He frowned when she rested her chin against his chest, trying not to laugh. “Leann would kill Ransom inside of a week and you and I would starve.”
“We’ll live off love.”
Keira rolled her eyes, swatted his hand away when he tried keeping her still. “You eat way too much for that to fill you up.”
“You’re the one that fills me up, Wildcat.” There was a slow tingle of pleasure that ran down her spine as Kona pulled her up his body so that their mouths were inches apart. “I get full on you every day, baby.”
Keira couldn’t laugh at him then. She couldn’t take that smile off his face or resist the slow slide of his lips against hers.
Can you die from too much contentment? Keira knew better than to ask that. The universe had a way of fracturing anything she might want for herself. Even all those years ago, after she left New Orleans with Ransom swelling her belly, after she first walked away from the only life she had known, from Kona, and set about trying to figure out motherhood on her own, Keira spent most days waiting for the other shoe to drop. She’d watch Ransom as a baby sleep for hours, just to make sure his tiny, infant chest continued to rise and fall. Every gurgle scared her, every sigh had her convinced she couldn’t take her eyes from him even for a moment.
When you are so used to bad being intrinsic to your life, then you expect the shoe dropping. Sometimes, you count the seconds before it does. Even when it doesn’t.
“Stop thinking,” Kona said. He always did that—guessed when she was worrying about things that may never come. Keira closed her eyes as he rubbed his thumb between her eyebrows. “You have this tiny little line that dents right here when you start that bullshit worrying.”
“You saying I look old, Kona Hale?”
“No. Not too old... ow!” She rolled off him and darted into the bathroom before he could retaliate from her projectile pillow aimed right at his head. “You’re beautiful and you know it.” His voice was muffled behind the bathroom door as Keira tidied herself up, trying to keep the smile off her face. Most days lately, she found that impossible to do.
“Again, post-coital compliments, jackass.” She shook out her hair, splashed cold water over her face and neck before she returned to the bedroom. “You know, I don’t think...” but Keira was talking to herself, or at least the empty room. “Where’d you go?” she shouted toward the open door.
The rich scent of coffee came into the room and Keira’s mouth watered. She gave in to a fleeting thought that Kona would bring her a cup as she rubbed her hands over her naked arms. The late November chill had already set into the house, the sharp bite of wind kicking off the lake cooling the air before the temperatures dropped.
She wrapped the down cover over her shoulders, then pushed it back to fetch Kona’s white button up off the floor. It fell to her thighs as she pulled it onto her shoulders and Keira bounced against the mattress, buttoning the shirt before she noticed something square pinching against her butt. Reaching back, she gripped the corner, pulled a hardback copy of Toni Morrison’s novel Beloved from underneath the duvet.
Kona tended to read non-fiction or horror novels—he was currently obsessed with Joe Hill and Kealan Patrick Burke—but he hadn’t been there the night before to read in bed before sleep, and hadn’t even bothered with his luggage before he was on her, so a book being on the bed made no sense.
Until Keira opened it.
It took three full seconds for her brain to make sense of what she saw when she pulled back the cover. She expected to see her worn, dog-eared copy of the novel with its fraying pages from the number of times she’d read that book. But that wasn’t what caught her eye. That wasn’t what had the air stilling in Keira’s lungs.
“Oh God.”
The pages had been glued together and a small square, just big enough for a ring box, had been cut into the center. The book was opened to page 164 and the highlighted text of Morrison’s words lined the top of the square.
Love is or it ain’t. Thin love ain’t love at all.
Keira hated that her eyes burned, that the small gesture, those words, could cripple her so easily. The words were theirs, a brief quote that defined what Keira and Kona needed from each other. They were the vows of two kids who had no idea what real love was. But those lines had stuck, they said everything about who Keira and Kona were to each other, who they’d always be.
Kona slipped up behind her, his arms around her waist before Keira could lift her fingers to the velvet box in the center of the page. Blinking, she couldn’t quite believe what she was looking at. That black box meant so much, it meant forever, yet even now that part of her that waited for the other shoe to drop wouldn’t let go of the expectation of disappointment. She tried to clear it from her mind. She tried to hope for the question she knew Kona wanted to ask, but that negative, niggling voice remained loud, persistent. It told her not to expect anything.
“I’m sixteen years late,” Kona said, moving the hair off her shoulder. He smelled mildly of sweat with the slightest hint of coffee on his breath. Keira wouldn’t have cared if he smelled of moth balls. He pulled her tight against him, sliding his hands under hers to take the box away from the book, lifting its velvet lid. “I wanted to do this a long time ago, baby. Every day since the second I realized I loved you.”
A quick jerk of her head, a glance over her shoulder and Keira’s vision was blurred by the burning moisture in her eyes. She couldn’t speak, didn’t know what she was supposed to say. She didn’t know if she’d be capable of much more than a nod of her head.
When Keira only continued to blink at Kona, silent, eyes rounding, he took the ring from the box and gently pushed it onto her finger. Her eyes followed the movement, but she was still left dumb, too shocked to make any coherent thoughts organize enough to form speech.
“Be my always, Keira?” What he said was simple. It was sweet. It was Kona saying little and meaning so much with four insignificant words. Separately they were nothing. Together, they held everything that they could ever hope to be.
