Thick Love Page 17

  12

  Ransom sent me two text messages the night Ironside visited me at the diner; I didn’t answer either of them. It was all becoming too much—being around his family, practicing with him, not really understanding what that kiss meant or why it happened in the first place. With Ironside’s offer, I got that Ransom was drifting. Either that or he was just really horny. That made little sense to me considering the attention I knew he got. He was first string on the football team at CPU as a freshman. The sports stations that Kona always had playing on the TV as I cleaned the house or made lunch mentioned Kona or Ransom at least once a week. And I’d been with Keira and Kona at the grocery store or the mall shopping—he still got double takes and whistles from strangers. Ransom was a younger, more virile version of his father. There was no way he’d stay lonely for long.

  So why did he have to pay to get attention? Why was it a stranger he’d rather be with?

  “This,” Koa said, slamming into my lap with another book he’d stolen from Kona’s office.

  “I don’t think this one is a story for kids.” I flipped open the book with Koa laying against my chest, realizing that the little man had swiped a photo album from his father’s desk. “See? Pictures of your family. It’s not a storybook.”

  “Mama?” he said, pointing to a picture of Keira in a simple, but beautiful white dress, caught in mid-laugh, looking stunning.

  “Yep. That’s your mama.” I turned the page, thumbed through the next set and realized it was of Keira and Kona’s Hawaiian wedding. The beach was behind them, the water stretching out for miles and the sandy beach looked like linen it was so white. “Who is that big guy?” I asked Koa, pointing to a picture of Kona, his arm around Keira’s waist.

  “Maku,” he said, still not able to pronounce the entire Hawaiian word for Daddy. “Maku,” he said again, when he looked at the next page. “Brah.” Those chubby fingers landed right on a picture of Ransom, arm around his father’s shoulders as they smiled at the camera.

  “That’s right. That’s your brother.”

  “Br-ah,” he argued, saying the nickname in slow syllables before he landed another thump of his finger at Ransom’s face.

  I didn’t correct him. Koa flipped through the pages but I didn’t respond when he called out each name. There were more pictures of Ransom and his parents, a few of their friend Bobby in Nashville who Keira often spoke of, and Mark and Johnny, the two friends who’d lived with Keira and helped raise Ransom.

  Koa skipped past the single picture of Kona’s mother, Lalei, taken just weeks before she passed away from cancer. Even I had heard the media coverage about her death; the older woman had been blamed for leaking the video of Ransom as a kid throwing another kid through a window at his school. The unwanted publicity had really messed Ransom up, and there was no love lost between Lalei and the Hale-Riley family. Keira wasn’t in that picture at all, and Ransom was the only one smiling. I didn’t know the story behind the woman or why Kona’s face was expressionless in the picture, and Koa certainly didn’t seem interested. He quickly flipped to another page and stopped, squinting down at the album.

  “Maku?” he said, nodding at Kona in his CPU uniform standing next to someone else who was just as sweaty and filthy as he was. There was dirt and grass stains smudging those blue uniforms; obviously it was a post-game shot. The men had their arms draped over each other’s shoulders, and Kona had a brilliant, happy smile. The other guy was shorter, not as bulky as Kona and had a wide nose and round, dark eyes. I found myself looking at those eyes, wondering who he was and why he reminded me so much of Ransom. “Maku?” Koa asked again and I pulled the picture from the clear sleeve and read the inscription on the back.

  Kona and Luka, CPU win over Florida State, Sophomore Year, 1997

  “It says that’s your daddy and someone called Luka.” The baby held the picture, looking harder for a second before he tossed the picture back in my hand.

  “Hello?” I heard and twisted around with Koa still in my lap as Kona walked into the living room.

  “Hey,” I said, standing with Koa, that picture still in my free hand. “Keira’s napping and Koa wanted to look at family pictures.”

  “He did?” Kona said, voice rising as it did whenever he wanted his son’s attention. “Who you looking at, buddy?” Koa went to his father, giving him a kiss before he pointed to me and the picture in my hand.

  “Sorry,” I said, handing it over. “We didn’t know who this was so I took it out to see if there was an inscription.”

  I knew the second Kona’s gaze landed on the picture that it brought him pain rather than joy. That happy, warm smile of a moment ago immediately fell when he looked down at the picture in his hands, rubbing his thumb over the surface.

  “Maku?” Koa asked again and jerked his attention to his father when he reached for the picture and Kona held it back from him.

  “No, pēpē, that’s not makuakāne,” he finally said, sitting with his son on the sofa while I hurried to pick up the photo album from the floor.

  I’d never seen Kona Hale be anything but happy. Tired, sure, but not once had I ever seen him upset or angry. It wasn’t exactly an easy thing to watch, him looking down at that picture like he’d lost his best friend and his toddler touching his face as though he wanted to know where that frown had come from.

  “Kona, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have touched the picture. I’ll…I can put it up for you.”

  “No, it’s okay.” He shook his head, pulling Koa closer to his chest and held the picture out in front of him. “This is your Uncle Luka, keiki kane.” He glanced at me. “My twin brother.”

  “Two of you?” I said, hoping my joke would ease the tension that picture had caused. He did at least grin a bit.

  “Yeah, there was.” Kona nodded to his left, offering me a seat and he scooted toward the arm of the sofa to put Koa between us. “He died our second year in college.” Kona let Koa take the picture, but still kept an eye on how he handled it.

  “God, Kona, I had no idea. I’m so sorry.”

  A half grin that was sad, and Kona nodded. “Yeah, me too.” To Koa he said, “This was Uncle Luka and makua kāne when we kicked Florida State’s ass…um butts. I met Mama just two weeks later.”

  Kona pulled the photo album from my lap and flipped the pages until he reached a blank sleeve and slid the picture back inside. “Luka was more than just a brother, he was the best friend I ever had, until Ransom.” He glanced at me over Koa’s head. “Tore my heart out to lose him to something so stupid.” I thought about asking how Luka died, but didn’t want to upset Kona more than he already was. I’d have no idea how to handle him as anything other than the friendly, sweet man I’d been around for over a month. He kissed the top of his son’s head. “My boys,” he started, grinning over at me, “I see Luka in them every day.”

  My chest felt tight as I watched Kona looking down at his son. “Who’s this?” I asked Koa, trying to move the focus away from loss and into something happier. The picture was of Keira and Kona holding Koa in the hospital bed.

  “Pēpē?” he said, tilting his head like he didn’t know why his parents would be holding onto some strange baby.

  “That’s you.” The boy looked at his father like he didn’t believe him and jumped right to the next page, then two more before he stopped on another picture of Ransom.

  The sight of a slightly younger Ransom, smiling so wide with his arms wrapped around the waist of a lovely redhead girl who was perched on his lap, surprised me, had my heart skipping a beat. This was the girl. The one who he couldn’t forget. The one who kept him trapped in the past.

  She was beautiful, the kind of girl who had a natural beauty, who didn’t have to work hard to take the breath away. Freckles covered her face, a small smattering on her high cheekbones, less along the bridge of her nose. The picture showed off her brilliant eyes, and the red in her wispy, wavy hair. It was easy to see why Ransom had been drawn to her. She had a genuinely friendl
y face, and a smile that was warm, as though she’d go out of her way to have you return her smile. I couldn’t hate anyone who looked that friendly. Even if she still had a tight grip on Ransom’s heart.

  “That?” Koa asked his father in that odd little way of his that seemed perfectly normal to me now. He wanted to know who the girl in the picture was.

  Again Kona glanced at me, and I wasn’t sure what to make of his expression. He had no reason to think that I might be upset by the picture, so I was confused when he glanced from it to me and then looked quickly away.

  When he didn’t answer, I did. “That’s Emily. That’s Ransom’s friend.”

  “You?”

  I ignored Kona’s laugh and brushed back the hair from Koa’s forehead. “No, sweetie, not like me. Emily was his special friend.”

  “You?” the baby gave me the strangest look—curious, almost troubled, but I dismissed it, shaking my head when he kept watching me.

  “Not…not like that.”

  “Not yet,” Kona said, closing the album. When he handed it back to his son, the boy ran into the Kona’s office and I watched him through the door as he stood in front of the bookshelf. “Ransom…he hasn’t gotten over…everything,” Kona said, voice a little defeated.

  “I guess not.” A glance at Kona and I wondered again about Luka and the shadow that crossed the man’s eyes when he’d looked at that picture. “That’s not an easy thing to get over.”

  “No,” he said, looking through the patio doors and out onto the lake. “It’s really not.” After an exhale, Kona leaned back against the sofa, fingers against his cheek, bringing back that small smile. “Maybe you can help Ransom with that.”

  “Me?” That was the worst idea in the history of ideas. Kona should have known that. Ransom and I had been around each other for weeks, around his family as well and it was always fun, laughing with them, watching how they all interacted. But I wasn’t family. Inviting me into their lives was one thing. Expecting me to stay there was another. “Ransom and I, he just helps me with the audition song and he’s giving me a hand with a new dance for the recital. We aren’t…I mean…”

  Kona took a breath, avoiding my eyes before he spoke. “Leann told Keira what she saw at the studio the other night.” Before I could start in with a list of made-up excuses, Kona held up his hand, silencing me. “It’s not my business, sweetheart. But I can’t say I wasn’t happy hearing it.”

  I turned, sitting on my leg to look Kona square in the face. “You don’t think that it was, I don’t know…inappropriate?”

  “Why the hell would I think that?”

  “Because I’m…well,” moving my hand around did nothing to help me think of the right word. “Kona, I’m the hired help.”

  When his laugh came, it was so loud Koa stepped back into the living room, looking first at me then at his dad. “Oh, Aly Cat, you are a hell of a lot more than just the help.” He brushed my arm when I only stared at him, not joining in his humor. After a pause, the laughter stopped but he still kept that smile firmly in place. “My mom and aunt both cleaned houses and worked as maids in Hawaii before either of them got ahead. We come from a long damn line of people who aren’t ashamed to break a sweat.” He paused to let Koa back on the sofa and sat the boy in his lap with a new book. “And I shouldn’t have to remind you that Keira worked as a waitress at some dumpy diner for ten years before she caught a break. She’s scrubbed toilets, waxed floors, degreased disgusting stovetops and broke up more drunken cowboy fights than you’d ever believe.” He shrugged again. “Every penny we have, we worked our a-s-s-e-s” he spelled the curse word out while Koa flipped through the pages of his monkey book, “off to get where we are. Keira’s family may have been old money, but we aren’t.”

  I knew this about the family. Of course I knew about Kona, who didn’t? Keira’s history came to me in the afternoons she and I would sit out on the patio and chat, watching the slow waves brush against the lake shore. Still, that didn’t mean this whole situation with Ransom was ever going to go anywhere. No matter how much his parents liked me.

  Kona didn’t relent, though, nodding here and there as Koa pretended to read his book, the whole while watching me, as though he wanted to make sure I understood what he was hoping for. “It’s good Ransom kissed you. I’m glad for it. Maybe that means he’s starting to let go of all of…that. He’s beaten himself up for so long about it.”

  I looked out of the window, debating the wisdom of telling Kona anything about what I felt. He was Ransom’s father and they were close. Instead of giving in to how good it would feel to confess my feelings for Ransom, I tried to be logical.

  “I’m happy to help him as much as I can, Kona, but please, don’t get your hopes up. It didn’t exactly end with us holding hands and skipping out to the parking lot.”

  “Leann mentioned that too.” He didn’t look remotely ashamed that he sounded like a huge gossip.

  “Oh,” I said, letting Koa sit in my lap when he crawled onto it. “I guess she did.”

  “Look, I’m not expecting anything, but I can’t help hoping that my boy can get past the stuff that’s been weighing him down.” Kona stretched out his arm, brushing my shoulder so I’d look at him. “I know better than anyone about guilt. But if he doesn’t learn his lesson and move forward, I’m afraid he’ll be stuck. I don’t want that for him.”

  “I don’t either.”

  “Good.” He smiled again, this time longer, seeming satisfied as he watched my expression. “Then maybe you give him some wiggle room? Maybe be patient while he sorts out the stupid sh…stuff in his head. He’s my kid, very stubborn and a little hot-headed.”

  “A little?”

  “Fair enough.” Kona shook his head, as though it was hard to admit his own flaws, but that smile remained and he continued to watch me. I didn’t know what he wanted from me exactly, but I was certain in the end, one of us would be disappointed.

  The smile lowered, as though Kona debated if he should say what came next. “I see the way he looks at you.” My eyebrows came up, curious, a little surprised but Kona didn’t change that expression, as though he knew more about what Ransom was thinking that Ransom did. “He might not know it yet, but he wants to be your friend.”

  “Friend?” Koa asked and Kona laughed again, picking up his boy.

  “Let’s go see Mama.” And they disappeared out of the room.

  The patio door gave easily when I opened it and I stood under the awning, watching the waves on the lake, not really seeing anything but the distant reach of the sun across the water.

  Kona was concerned about his son, I knew that. Keira was as well. I’d caught the way her gaze followed Ransom when he’d talk about school or the exhaustive football practices and games. They loved him very much, anyone could see that. And the touch of that ghost, the one that came to him out on this lake had kept Ransom from the promise of the person he could be, and instead had made him the boy who had withdrawn from the world.

  Ransom had kissed me, then pulled away. I had a feeling I knew why, but if Kona and Keira’s concern were real and they needed me, I could put aside what I had kept hidden from Ransom, couldn’t I? Isn’t that what you do when you care about someone? You put their needs before your own?

  I wasn’t sure what Kona thought about my very thin connection with his son, but if Ransom needed a friend, that’s what I’d be. As much as it may hurt me, as much as I wanted Ransom to kiss me like he had again, to be more to him than simply a friend, I could push aside what I felt and be what he needed—either as myself or as the dancer.

  13

  Trent wouldn’t shut his damn mouth.

  “Anyway, like I was saying, you need to come back with us. There was this one chick I ran into backstage. Fuck, was she hot. I was drunk though, but still. What happened to you again?” He lifted the dumbbell over his head, grunting, breathing through his nose. “You…” he released a long grunt, “disappeared on us last time you were there.”

>   It wasn’t a question, but the guy still stared at me, watching as I kept the bar even above my head. I knew he expected a response, but I still continued to ignore him as I finished my rep.

  “Where’d you go?” Marshall stood next to the bench, wiping his red face with a towel. He stunk something fierce and I hurried through my rep just to get away from the downwind reek of him.

  That prick followed.

  “One minute I saw you there, the next you disappeared.”

  Sweat and general funk isn’t pleasant. It’s especially not pleasant when you’re in a weight room with fifteen other linesmen trying to hurry through their workout before game day.

  “I got caught up in something, man.” That wasn’t a lie. I had been caught up by the private dancer but Marshall’s nosy ass didn’t need to know that. He also didn’t know I ran out of there as fast I could afterwards because it looked like I’d pissed myself.

  Heading to the showers I relaxed when the guy nodded and I lost him near the lockers. “Jackass,” I muttered under my breath, desperate for a little quiet and a lot of solitude while I washed away the sweat and tiredness of the week.

  I had it in spades.

  The water was hot, moved over my sore joints and muscles, massaging against my back as I dipped my head under the spray. I had fucked up, yet again and wasn’t sure there were enough showers in the world to take that fuck up away.

  Scrubbing my face, I could only see surprise on Aly’s face as I took her mouth over and over. At first, I told myself it had been the Kizomba—the music moving into my body, working some kind of seduction, her fine, fit body brushing against mine—it had all added up to me losing my head, to me wanting to touch, to take and giving into the want without thinking. She had some kind of effect on me that I didn’t understand. When I was near her, close to her, I forgot that she wasn’t my type. I forgot that I didn’t want her. I forgot that I didn’t deserve her.