Thin Love (Thin Love, #1)(161)
The envelope in his pocket feels like a weight and when Kona reaches for it, offers it to his mother, that weight lifts, his fingers lighten when she grabs it. His mother’s eyes are sharp, suspicious as she opens the envelope and immediately, her shock deepens, the disbelief covering her face.
“What is this supposed to be?”
“A payoff, Mom. My parting gift.”
She looks back down, eyes running over the check, to the large number, then down to the memo and he knows when she spots it; the final insult he’s giving her. Karma, payback, her own words twisted, right back at her.
“I am your mother, Kona.” Her stare is cold and she’s trying, one last time to assert some sort of dominance, a control over him. “You cannot just walk away from me. I can’t be bought. We’re family.”
“No. We’re not. Family doesn’t manipulate. Family doesn’t lie. This boy. This brilliant, beautiful boy is my family. So is Keira. She always has been no matter how hard you tried to destroy it.”
His mother throws the check to the floor, managing to stand with a speed that surprises him. “Kona, that haole will destroy your career.”
He steps forward, but stops from standing in front of her when Ransom tugs on his sleeve. His boy gives him the same calm Keira had always managed to do, and Kona smiles, comforted that he isn’t alone in this small battle. “My career is over. I’m retiring and you, Mom, all you’re going to have left is that money. I hope it keeps you company.”
He expects Ransom to follow him and he is nearly to the door before he realizes the boy hasn’t moved. A quick glance over his shoulder and Kona frowns, worried what Ransom would do, but he doesn’t stop him, figures there is something his boy needs to say.
“Mikee Sibley tried to rape one of my friends. She was only thirteen. I threw him through a window.” Ransom tilts his head and Kona is reminded of his brother again, his strong, stubborn brother and all the arguments he’d had with their mother. Ransom stands with that same relaxed stance, the same side quirk of his head that is meant as a taunt, an easy riling posture that is meant to annoy. “I do shit like that when I’m trying to protect the people I care about.”
The sneer on his mother’s face twists and she straightens her shoulders as though ready for an attack. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m not. You aren’t worth it.” Ransom steps away, walks toward Kona, but turns to face her one last time, still calm, still relaxed. “If you’re what a grandmother is, then I’m happy I never had one.”
They are out the door and on the sidewalk before Kona looks at Ransom and he returns the smile his son gives him. He won’t tell him, not yet, what the memo on the check said. It isn’t important but Kona knows the words struck deep; that his mother felt their sting. Keira had, so had Kona when he discovered that biting insult his mother had given to her all those years ago. Somehow, though, Kona bet these were worse.
To fix Lalei’s lapse in judgment.
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.