“I don’t know.” She can’t watch him, scrubs her hands over her face to block out his anger, his shock. “I shouldn’t have been. It was a lapse in judgment brought on by too much time on Memory Lane.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. You wanted me just as much as I wanted you and now you’re running because you don’t want to admit the simple truth.”
“And what do you imagine that simple truth is?”
Kona is in front of her in two small steps, hands back on her shoulders, despite her struggling away from him. “You and me. It’s still there. It’s there even more than when we were kids. It hasn’t changed, it hasn’t left us and I doubt it ever will.”
“God, Kona, please stop this.” Keira wishes that wasn’t true. She wishes that whatever she felt for him had died the day she boarded that bus for Nashville. But he’s right. She’s knows how right he is. Still, she can’t have him. She won’t. Sometimes you sacrifice so much, give so much to others that you forget to save something for yourself. Keira didn’t know how to have what she wanted anymore. She’d forgotten how to be greedy for the happiness she once had. “You and me, we aren’t going to happen. We will never happen again.”
In the months she’d been around him, Keira had noticed the changes. Kona was calmer, easy going. He had relaxed and time and distance seem to have taught him control, discipline. He no longer let his anger control him. He wasn’t jealous or possessive. He rarely screamed at her, not since the party. Not since he’d met Ransom. But now the man in front of her reverts to the hot head linebacker he’d once been.
A collectible football in a glass case on the dresser is the first victim of Kona’s rage. Then, the bench at the foot of the bed gets kicked, shot across the room before Kona faces her; his hands shaking, his control slipping as he battles against wanting to touch her, reaching for her, and stepping away, out of her space. Finally, swallowing, fingers scrubbing his face, running through his tousled hair, Kona’s shoulders lower, defeated, worn. “Why are you doing this?”
She wants him to understand. They had come too close to the past last night. The gripping, the tugging, the hard passion, it had all been her, what she wanted, but Keira’s loosened control scares her. She can’t be that girl again. She will never be that girl again.
“Because love isn’t like this. You and I weren’t in love.” She ignores how tightly he closes his eyes, as though hearing the truth is like a slap to his face. “We were addicted to each other, you just never understood that. You liked the chase and then you liked my temper and it all just escalated.”
A rough growl and Kona’s voice lifts in a shout. “Don’t tell me what I felt… what I feel. You don’t know me, you aren’t in my head.”
“That’s exactly my point. We aren’t kids anymore. This isn’t you and me on campus making out after a game. We have a son. We have responsibilities and you keep forgetting that. You keep forgetting the bad. You never remember the bad.” Keira can’t take that expression, the hard stare, the disappointment, his anger. She closes her eyes, squeezes them tight praying he’ll just let her go, wishing that she really wanted him to. “God, Kona, you act like I was this great thing to you, like what we were was the greatest thing that ever happened to you.”
He moves quickly, like a shot and grabs her face, fingers gentle, but firm on her face. “You were.”
His admission stuns her, silences her until all she hears is his breath, the labored ways he exhales, the fierce, steady widening of his eyes. He’s breaking her heart with that look, with the desperate way he leans his forehead against her.
She tries for calm. Kiera tries to collect herself, slow her heartbeat, but Kona smells too sweet; his touch feels too right. Walk away. Walk away and don’t look back.
“And I’m not anymore.” She pulls his hand from her face, trying to turn away, not wanting him to know how much he affects her. “I won’t be again.”
“Keira, please.” He stands behind her, but he doesn’t touch her. She’s grateful for that at least. “Tell me what to do. Tell me how to fix this.”
“You can’t, Kona. There’s nothing left to fix. We tried once and it nearly broke me. I… gave you everything. I gave you absolutely everything I had and you took it all.” Kona’s shadow lengthens across the dark floor, his wide arms curl up, hands on the back of his neck as though he has to restrain himself from touching her. “You were greedy for it and it still wasn’t enough. And now, now you come back into my life and you want it all again. You want more.” One glance over her shoulder and Keira looks down, unable to take the tremble moving his chin. “I can’t give you that. I won’t. You aren’t my life anymore. You can’t be. Ransom is.”