Night Shift 2(35)

And yet, despite what Kona had done, hadn’t my sin been worse? Hadn’t I been the one courting disaster, letting it live and fester under our roof, letting it convince me my husband was a liar? Hadn’t it been my own weaknesses that had almost brought all our worlds crashing down?

A small shudder worked up my spine as I stared out of the window, closing my eyes to will away that dark cloud that had descended over me. To my left Kona concentrated on the road, but I caught the slip of his gaze as he glanced my way and I exhaled, knowing what he wanted, knowing he deserved anything I could give and I slipped my hand onto Kona’s palm, fingers whispering against the deep lines of his skin. His hand was warm and when I kept my palm pressed against his, Kona squeezed my fingers and he moved his wide thumb over my knuckles. But I didn’t look at him, or study his expression. Instead I let the silence keep, let it fill the cab of the Denali as I watched the roving mountains around us pass by.

I’d always loved Tennessee. It had been a second home to me when I left New Orleans as a kid, running from my heartache and my mother’s expectations. But I’d settled in Nashville and as exciting and sweet as Music City was, there was no escape there. Not like the serenity Gatlinburg offered.

The trees around us loomed on forever it seemed as Kona drove through the tourist traps and the miles and miles of cabins and pancake restaurants. The traffic was thick with tourists’ cars cluttering up the winding roads as we moved through Sevierville, and on into Gatlinburg proper before heading deeper toward the mountains.

Kona had made the suggestion to get away when Koa and Mack hadn’t moved from within a few feet from him on his first day home. He’d understood. Those kids loved him, had missed him, and didn’t understand that we needed time to begin mending the fractures that Cass had leveled at us. When Mack insisted on Kona and me staying in the den as she and Koa played yet another round of Left for Dead on the game console, my husband had leaned close to me, stretching his arm around my shoulder, trying, it seemed, to keep what he wanted to say out of our kids’ ears.

“We need some time away.” I’d been unaccountably nervous at his words, still letting the guilt and upset I felt wedge between us. When I only nodded, gaze flicking to our kids who dutifully ignored us as they played, Kona continued. “They’re scared I’m not gonna stick around.” It was his laugh that surprised me, had me jerking my gaze at his expression.

“They missed you.” He had to know that, to see how they stuck to him since he’d been back at the lake house.

“I know that, baby. I just…I need some breathing room.”

Koa yelled at Mack's game play and the sharp shriek of his voice had me leaning away from my husband, my ridiculous worry brimming back to the surface as he continued to watch me. Seconds later, the upset forgotten, Koa and Mack continued to play and I kept my attention on them. Kona stopped staring at me. In my peripheral I spotted the slow movement of his head turning toward the kids and his sharp profile as he watched them. But when he spoke again, his voice was low, directed at me.

“The things I want to say to you…to…to do to you, can’t be done with them around.” He swallowed and the sound was audible. It struck me as funny, how this big lumbering man, my husband of thirteen years, could seem so nervous even when the meaning behind his words held such promise.

Again I only nodded, knowing he caught the movement. Still watching the game play, Kona moved his body closer and I closed my eyes as his sweet breath hissed across my cheek. “I want to take you away. Just for a little while. To be with you. Only you.”

It hadn’t taken much sweet talking to get Ransom to agree to staying with his younger siblings while Kona and I left for the mountains. He had been happy to stay, happy that we were making efforts to ease the hurt and upset of the past few months.

Kona cleared his throat, adjusting his hold on the steering wheel as he nodded to the right and my gaze went to the side road that would bring us as close to the Great Smokey Mountains National Park and the even more remote gravel road that lead to the cabin we owned. It was a quiet place, one that would leave us undisturbed by the tourists, one that Kona and I visited often over the years when we needed to leave the pressures of our respective careers behind us, when the need to be alone grew heavy between us.

The gravel under the tires popped and shot across the heavy fallen leaves that covered much of the road as we moved along it. We were surrounded by forest, unobstructed by the industry of tourism or the modern advances that tended to converge and bombard any peaceful hideaway spot in the world whenever commercialism came calling.

We’d bought this cabin just before our first anniversary, spending a week here, a few days there, rarely venturing beyond the back porch of the cabin that overlooked a small stream along the back of the property. It hadn’t changed much since then with the exception of our adding another small cottage some sixty feet away for when family trips to the cabin had grown too crowded. A local man, Brad, along with his cousins, acted as groundskeeper, keeping the place tidy and handling rentals when we left the cabin available. Driving up, spotting the trim lawn and the landscaped bushes that lined the drive, I noticed they hadn’t slacked in their job.

“I’ll get the bags and open the cabin. Stay here until I know it’s okay for you to come in,” he said, squeezing my hand before he left the SUV. Still so damn overprotective.

The last time we’d been here, the trip had gotten cut short because Bobby’s condition had worsened and we were needed in Nashville. Now there had been a less permanent but still stinging disruption in our lives. I sat in my seat while Kona brought the bags to the front of the cabin, watching him—that still-strong back, those wide shoulders I’d held onto so many times before, the small waist that hadn’t expanded much in the years since he’d left the NFL. He was still so beautiful, my perfect fit, the same cocky Hawaiian linebacker I’d fallen for as a freshman in college.

Kona’s movements were graceful, a fluid mixture of power and strength but behind his expression was a gentleness not many people ever got to see. He was a protector, had a strength I doubted I’d ever see duplicated. He’d touched me more intimately, more surely than anyone ever had before. He knew my body, my mind better than I did and held my heart tight within his sturdy grip.

I really didn’t deserve him. That cloud circled, billowed until I shook my head, smothering the pathetic feeling that overwhelmed me and I forced a smile on my face when Kona nodded for me to come inside. I was out of the SUV, tugging my bag over my shoulder as I walked up the porch steps, nodding a thanks when Kona opened the door for me.

The place was cozy, that hadn’t changed over the years. I’d always loved the seclusion of the cabin, but really appreciated the quiet when we came in the fall, when the weather turned frigid and Kona would start a fire, the pop and crackle of the burning wood only adding to the comfortable silence.

We moved around each other, not speaking really, each of us taking in our surroundings and I wondered if Kona was thinking about all the things we’d done in front of that stacked stone fireplace. There had been one night we slept naked right in front of that fireplace, curled around each other, limbs twisted together like pretzels. He’d woken me twice that night, once moving behind me, holding me still as his hard body fit against and then inside mine. The other time it was Kona’s mouth and fingers on the cleft that joined my thigh and hip, that had stirred me.

“I’ll make sure the hot water heater is on. Nine and a half hours is a long drive and I want a shower.” He stood behind me at the rear of the cabin as I dumped my bag on the dining room table and stopped in front of the large window that looked out to the back of the cabin. The leaves on the trees had turned orange and were peppered with a spotting of bright red and yellow. The massive oaks formed an arch of color against the mountain backdrop in the distance with large smoky clouds obstructing the mountain tops from view.

Taken with all that natural beauty, I startled slightly as Kona came up behind me, slipping his arms around me, the heat from his body eliciting a shiver of desire from my quiet form.

“It’s…a…it’s a big shower, if you remember.”

I wanted to forget myself, to give up my guilt and worry and become that playful partner I once had been. But even though my body cried out for him, my feet and spirit were leaden, and I stood still, not responding to his long fingers on my shoulders. I hated myself, but I couldn't make myself turn to him, and finally he walked away, sighing loudly, which my misery took as an accusation.

“You’re a fucking coward, Keira,” I told myself, sliding my forehead against the glass before I closed my eyes, blocking out the beautiful view in front of me and the temptation that wanted me in the bathroom.





My husband rarely pressured me. Not when we were eager, desperate kids wanting nothing but touch and sensation, forgetting that we should be cautious. Believing that our youth somehow made us invulnerable to consequence. He didn’t pressure me at all today as we settled into the cabin, unpacking and organizing our groceries to keep us from having to go out for at least a few days.