Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(122)
In his mind, it makes sense. Her reasons, her desperation to prove herself. She’d been alone as Kona worked his way into success. He knows that. His brain tells him that it makes perfect sense. But his heart is another matter; years, so many years she’s kept this to herself. She’s kept his child from him. She refused to let him protect either of them and his heart overrules his mind. “You’re a selfish bitch.”
“Excuse me?”
“You are.” His voice rises, echoes around the room as Kona makes for the bar, needing something to do with his hands. “You’re a selfish bitch.” He slams back a drink and pours another before Keira stands behind him.
“Well, that’s helpful. Still up to old habits?”
Kona looks at the glass in his hand, then back at Keira’s bunched up features and that critical scowl on her face. “You know, what? Fuck you. You don’t get to come in here and start judging me like I’m still a stupid twenty year old. A couple of drinks because I’m pissed off doesn’t make me a drunk and I didn’t get where I am by juicing if that’s what you’re thinking. Six months in jail, Keira. Six months of me dodging Ricky’s boys when I testified against him. Six months and I crawled back to CPU, begged the coach to give me another shot. I worked my ass off. So, yeah, f*ck you if you think you of all people can start judging me. I’m not the one who has lied to you for sixteen years. I’m not the one who was too damn proud to tell me I had a f*cking child!” Keira barely blinks when Kona throws the glass against the wall, scattering chunks of ice and glass over the carpet.
She watches the darkened spot on the gray wall, but doesn’t get upset, doesn’t do more than let her gaze slip back to Kona. “I was protecting him.”
“You were protecting yourself. You were doing what you always did… you were trying to prove that you didn’t need anyone. So yeah, selfish bitch.”
Keira’s expression darkens and when she takes a step, her bright eyes flashing, Kona thinks he sees a hint of the old Keira surface. He thinks she might want to hit him, he almost expects it. But Kona isn’t the same. He won’t let her touch him like that again. Instead of a violent reaction, Keira turns away from him, with her shoulders straight and Kona doesn’t miss the cool way she breathes in and out or how she closes her eyes.
Finally, when her expression softens, Keira sits back on the sofa, nods at the empty space to her left until Kona sits next to her. “Maybe I was selfish and I’m sorry. I really am. But I was scared and young and determined not to fail.”
Kona understands that, recognizes the memory of his years struggling to prove himself; taking what every cocky offensive lineman gave him. He’d been determined too and it had made him stronger. It made him successful. He couldn’t blame Keira for doing the same.
He doesn’t speak, needs a moment to remember himself, to remember all the lessons his struggles taught him. A quick pull of his mouth as he realizes he hasn’t been this angry, let his temper slip this quickly since he was a kid. Since he was around Keira. Only she could make that swell of rage bubble in his chest so quickly.
She watches her hands again, slides her palm up her arm and Kona frowns, guessing that it hadn’t been easy for her, all those years. He’d managed because he had only himself to think about. He had a family that encouraged him, gave him the strength he needed to excel. Keira had none of that and it’s this moment that Kona realizes where the greatest source of his anger comes from. He’d always wanted to protect her. He promised her he would. And when the time came, she hadn’t let him.
Keira breaks the silence with a long breath, her words rushing out as though she’s afraid of them. “What do you want from us, Kona?”
That instant anger returns, but Kona manages to push it down. “I’m not plotting anything if that’s what you’re thinking. Shit, I’m still trying to absorb the reality that I have a sixteen year old son.”
“You… you can’t have him.”
Kona feels his mouth drop open and he has to curl his fingers into a fist to keep them from shaking. “Is that what you think? You think I want to take him from you?”
He sees the relief in her face and unclenches his fingers. She’d been scared that he’d take away the only person she had left? “Keira… I wouldn’t…”
“You have resources I don’t. You’re angry, I understand that, I really do, and whether you believe me or not, my biggest regret is that you didn’t get the chance to raise your son.” Kona cocks up an eyebrow and Keira rolls her eyes. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it’s my fault. But he’s all I have left. He’s my world and we are close, very close. He’s had some… issues.” Kona doesn’t like the change in her features, how her mouth dips, the faint wrinkle under her eyes. “The past few years have been hard.”
“What issues?”
A small, critical laugh, and Keira leans back, moves her body around to face him. “God Kona, he’s our son. He’s anger has become a significant problem. He threw a kid through a plate glass window last year when he tried to attack Ransom’s friend. It was bad. The school expelled him and there was a lot of kickback from the boy’s family. They’re well off and Ransom was forced into counseling. He got community service and had to do anger management. He was devastated, embarrassed that he went off like that.” The worry is immediate. He hasn’t even met his boy and already Kona is anxious. Keira must see that in his features, in the swift frown he can’t help, because she leans toward him, touches his wrist. “He’s trying, we’re trying, but it’s difficult. He only feels better, is able to control himself when he’s on the field or in front of a piano.”