“Mom. Oh God…” Ransom runs to his mother, falls in front of Keira on the floor. He dwarfs her tiny body. Ransom covers her, conceals her in his large arms, her fingers clinging to his shirt as her sobs quiet. Ransom’s hold is tight, fierce as his kisses the top of her head, rubs his hand down her back. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
The moment is theirs; forgiveness given, taken without hesitation and Kona can only stare at them, amazed how his boy, and his Wildcat, hold each other. He feels like a voyeur, an unwelcome witness to the healing they take from each other. His fingers shake with the urge to touch them both, to interrupt this moment so that he feels what they share, taste a hint of what he’s never had, but he doesn’t move from his spot. He doesn’t speak. They amaze him. His family. His everything.
He is exhausted by the day, by the heartache that never seems to be more than a reach away from him. Would this always be the way of things? Would their lives always be so consumed with guilt? With anger?
The stinging in his eyes is sharp, brutal, but Kona does blink, doesn’t try to make it disappear.
“You still here?” his son says, still holding his mother, covering her face so that Kona cannot see her expression. He understands the lingering anger. He certainly knows where that need to protect Keira comes from and even though his son’s voice is bitter, his frown hard, Kona is grateful that Keira has Ransom. That she finally has someone protecting her.
“I don’t run.” Kona’s steps are slow, tentative, but he will not retreat. It’s not in him. “I don’t ever run.”
His voice seems to bring Keira out of her heartache and she stands, pulling herself up against Ransom’s arms so she can look at Kona. “Why?”
It’s all she needs to ask. That look, that hurt, angry look she gives him is explanation enough. Last night he touched her, loved her and it had been the first time Kona had felt himself, had felt at ease in sixteen years. He draws on that sensation, the thrill and pleasure Keira moved in him, to calm his voice, to keep his heart from racing out of his chest.
“You know I didn’t do this.” Another step and Keira’s chin stops wobbling. “I would never do this.”
“Then how?” Ransom asks, holding his mother’s arm as though he’s ready to move in front of her, maybe hold her back if she decides to attack Kona.
But his answer is for Keira. In one look—hooded eyes, mouth pinched tight—Kona stares at Keira, silently begging her to understand. Silently asking her to forgive him yet again. That drop of his stomach only dips lower when her features shift, eyebrows rising, and Kona knows Keira realizes who is responsible.
She wins every time, Kona.
“It was his mother. Your grandmother.”
Her tone, that harsh inflection has Kona sick. He knows this will mean more than distance between him and his son. It will mean that the promises he made last night, the bridge he began to rebuild was burnt to embers by his mother’s one phone call.
His skin is slick with sweat, his forehead is clammy when he rubs the spot between his eyebrows.
“She’s never met me, she doesn’t know me. Why would she care?” Ransom asks Keira.
“Because she doesn’t want him involved with us. That’s what she does. She interferes, she always interferes and it’s not ever going to stop.”
Kona snaps his head up, eyes her carefully. “Keira…”
He has no argument; can say nothing that would convince her he would protect them from his mother. But Keira is right. His mother would never stop interrupting his life, or trying to keep Keira out of it. Not unless Kona breaks all ties to her. He has a choice and for him, it’s easy: His mother or his family.
“I’m going to end this.” He tells them. He is just feet from them and he wants to touch them, to hold them, make them believe him. “I’m going to fix it all.”
Keira looks away, head shaking, but Ransom’s expression is calmer and Kona sees the flicker of hope on his son’s face. “How?”
“I’ll handle it.” Ransom’s mouth twitches and Kona thinks he wants to smile, wants to believe that he isn’t the weak asshole his son thinks he is. Kona had missed everything; lost all those possible memories to his mother’s deception, to his own weakness. He will not lose more and he wants his boy to know that, to understand that he would do anything to repair the damage done today.
Before Ransom can stop him, Kona is in front of him, his hand on the back of the boy’s neck, pulling him close. “I would never do anything like this to you. You’re my blood.” Palm easy, soft on his boy’s face, Kona lowers his voice, hopes his tone is sincere enough, honest enough. “You’re my boy and I love you. I’d kill for you, understand that. I’m your father and it’s my job to protect you and that’s what I’m going to do.” To his right, Kona sees the packed bags sitting next to the door and the thought of them leaving, either of them running, makes him sick. “Please don’t leave.” He chances a look at Keira, feels gutted at her frown, at that hopeless, defeated expression on her face. “Either one of you. Please. Let me fix this.”