Thick & Thin (Thin Love, #3)(35)
“Makua…”
“When I tell you to do something, you f*cking do it.”
My little brother stared at our father with his hands shaking and his mouth open. Dad yelled and cursed plenty, but not at his kids, not ever, not in anger. He might discuss, he might even lose his temper when we were being total shits, but he never yelled. Not like this, definitely never in public. The shock of it had the small group pausing and the second Koa closed his mouth, rubbing his palm against his thigh as though he was embarrassed he couldn’t get his hand to stop shaking, Dad seemed to realize that he’d gone a little too far. He blinked slow, sorry, and those wide shoulders lowered, then immediately stiffened with Mom’s approach.
“Koa,” Mom called, coming toward him. “Can you call Mark for me and see if he and Johnny have made it out of the airport yet?” She knelt next to his chair, picking up his phone, wiping it clean of debris against her leg before she hit the power button. The screen blinked on and Mom smiled at Koa, handing the phone over. “I need them to pick up a few things from the market before they get here. Tell him I’ll text him a list. Okay?”
My little brother seemed a little too eager to leave and nodded once, escaping our father’s attitude and the cold, angry look Mom threw at him. Brian, too, seemed to get that things were a little off kilter and excused himself before Mom stepped right in front of Dad.
She was nearly a foot shorter than him, but that expression, the way her big blue eyes could go cold as steel would rattle any man, especially my father. For a second I only sipped from my beer, not watching, but then I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. It was like anticipating a dynamite flash—the flicker of a spark, the slow sizzle right before the massive explosion whenever they were around each other. My mother stared silently at her husband, eyes lit with spite and resentment. He didn’t flinch, he didn’t do much more than return that stare. But with my father, there was no anger. I’d seen that look from him before. It was always directed at her and it always preceded them alone for hours in their room with the door locked and the headboard rattling against the wall. I doubt if that would happen today, though. In fact, I knew it wouldn’t. There had been a wedge between them the entire time I’d been back home and I worried how much wider that wedge would grow after I left for Miami.
“Yelling and embarrassing is not discipline, Hale.”
Shit. She only called him Hale when she didn’t want to sully her mouth with his full name. He knew it, and the clipped tone and shortened name bothered him more than he let on. His jaw clinched and worked into a grind as he looked down at her, yet still his gaze moved around her face, then lower, over her body like he wasn’t sure if he wanted to yell at her or kiss her senseless.
“Keira…”
“Don’t you think, birthday boy,” this came in a low, deadly tone as Mom stepped closer to him, keeping her arms crossed and those eyes lethal, “that maybe you should practice a little patience? He’s a kid.”
“He was disrespectful.”
A slow shake of her head and she frowned. “He gets it honest, doesn’t he?”
Dad stepped toward her and she dropped her arms, like there would be violence—on her part at least—and she was ready for it.
“Guys,” I started, stepping to my father’s side as he lowered his beer and let it hang at his side. Around the patio a couple of my parents’ friends were arriving and I offered a flippant wave in their direction. “You’ve got more company.” Then I saw Makana making a bee line towards the fire pit. “Mack’s headed this way.”
And just like that, Dad stepped back, and Mom walked away to pat Makana’s shoulder as she passed her on the patio, pausing for a second to say something to the girl. My little sister wasn’t the wiser, didn’t seem to know anything had happened and shot a huge, heart cracking smile my way as she nodded at me.
“Dad,” I started, voice low as I looked behind us, hoping to keep what I said away from prying ears. “What the hell is going on?” A glance at his face, at the slow pull he took on his bottle and my worry intensified. Kona never looked helpless. He did just then, even when he jerked his attention to me and returned back to his daughter as she came closer.
“I made a mess, keiki kane.”
“Of?”
He looked at me directly, head shaking like he couldn’t believe what flirted on the tip of his tongue. “Everything.”
“Ransom! Guess what?” Mack’s approach ended my father’s confession and I managed a look at him, a silent promise that I wasn’t going to let him off without an explanation before my little sister stood between us, tugging on my sleeve. “Guess what I did?”
“What, pēpē? Tell me.” The worry I felt got pushed aside as the girl smiled up at me, lips pink against her dark, smooth skin.
“I invited Aly over.”
It was a simple enough answer. Something innocent, something sweet, just like that little girl with the big doe eyes flashing up at me, looking proud of herself. “Keiki,” Dad started, forgetting his anger or whatever it was that had brought in the cloud hovering over he and my Mom. Kona knew what I’d done to Aly. He knew that I was pushing when I shouldn’t. I still told my parents everything, even when they didn’t want to know it. “That wasn’t your place.”