There was never enough liquor in this house.

Keira drained the bottle, frowning at the drip from the neck, how it barely filled her second glass of Crown. It was down her throat, stinging with a lovely burn before the ice even rattled against the glass.

She wouldn’t cry. She refused. But this helpless feeling, the worry, consumed 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 read 10:30 p.m.. Ransom hadn’t called, neither had Kona, and Keira couldn’t keep 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 moved up her neck, how it tightened, pissed Keira off, until her eyes were stinging. The fear was too heavy, the weight of it making breathing impossible.

“No,” she said to herself, walking into the kitchen, pushing back bags and cards until she found 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 didn’t even feel the burn as it slid down her throat. The stuff was smooth, crisp. She poured 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 and flat palms and landed in Nashville; she’d landed into safety and warmth and love. She had Ransom. He had become her salvation.  Now that might be gone. Her haven. Her sanctuary and the past had come back. The past, and his wide, beautiful shoulders, those strong, confident hands. Those words Keira suspected were pretty lies that Kona had rehearsed over the years.

The next sip was deeper, a gulp that Keira felt as she tried 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.

She couldn’t go back. She wanted to. Sometimes, Keira needed to, and maybe part of her forgot that the past wasn’t some rose-colored dream. Part of her buried down the reality—the memory of those days when she thought she might die from the loneliness. That part of her didn’t bother with the way reality fell, with the proper order of who she was with Kona, of who she thought she’d never become.

She forgot that there were nights that he made her cry so hard her eyes burned and snot coated her top lip. She forgot that the staggered way he looked at her could make her sigh, could make her stomach feel like it burned fire. She forgot that one touch could level her, freeze any notion she ever thought she had of good sense.

Kona had been her daydreams, and then he filled her nightmares, and she watched herself from a distance, just a shadow monitoring the stupid, stupid things she’d do whenever he was around. And to him, she was just the same. All-consuming, a threat to anything he wanted his tomorrows to be. A lit match, barreling too close to that tantalizing fuse, waiting, panting with hungry anticipation for the ignition.

But she didn’t remember that, not at first. Not when she forgave him as she held her son in her arms. 

She just remembered the way his mouth fit so perfectly against her neck when they slept in that too-small dorm room bed. She remembered the way small sparks of light would kindle in his eyes—hungry eagerness, dangerous joy—when he’d set her temper off. He did it on purpose. She always took the bait. But a cyclone and a volcano aren’t supposed to connect. The results would be disastrous. It would be life altering, and now she had to remind herself of the danger. She had to recall how all that passion bit into her, made her ache. How it nearly destroyed everything she wanted for herself.

That girl died sixteen years ago, and on her deathday, the woman was born. She came into this world kicking, shouting, refusing to relinquish her youth and her freedom, but she came nonetheless. And so the woman pushed back the past. She purposefully forgot that her heart had never been fuller when Kona held it. She forgot that no one would ever make her smile, make her ache with belly laughter like him. She forgot that his touch was searing, soul shaking, and that no other man alive would ever bring her that much joy. Not like that. Not like Kona.

The door closed, echoed against the low voices as Ransom and Kona entered the kitchen. Her son stared at her, eyes squinted as he shifted his attention to the bottle in front of her, then back to her face.

“Mom?”

A quick wipe against her face to dry it and Keira greeted her son, holding his shoulders. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She picked up on how Ransom and Kona exchanged a look, how the big Hawaiian leaned against the doorframe, pretending to scan through his phone, giving Keira a moment with their son.

“You better now?” She didn’t like the dark circles that have formed under her boy’s eyes, how the day and its drama showed in his features.

“I’m okay. It’s done now, and we’re cool.” Ransom moved his chin to the table. “What about you? You drinking for a specific reason?”

“I was nervous.” Ransom’s hair felt thick against her fingers as Keira brushed his bangs out of his eyes. “Didn’t know what to do with myself.”

“Nothing to worry about, Mom, honest. We’re good.” Keira followed Ransom’s gaze as he nodded to Kona, as his father offered them both a tentative smile. “I’m beat, though. Gonna take a melatonin and crash.” He kissed Keira’s forehead, then leaned toward her ear, voice low. “Don’t hold grudges, Mom. It’s freakin’ pointless.”

Her son tapped Kona’s shoulder, exchanged a brief farewell before he left the kitchen, leaving them alone, staring back at one another.

She couldn’t take the silence, the long seconds that ushered awkwardness and uncertainty into the room, and so Keira deflected, as is habit, returned back to the table and the numbing relief the Glendronach offered.

“That’s bad for you.”

She knew what he wanted.  She knew that Kona would fight until he got her and she shuddered, realizing there wasn’t much fight left in her.

“Keira?” he said, standing at her side, looking down at her and the bottle in front of her. “What are you doing?”

She sat up, voice raspy, raw. “Drinking a bottle of forty-two-hundred-dollar scotch.” He settled next to her at the table, elbows on that smooth wood surface, and Keira slid the bottle toward him. “You like this stuff, if memory serves. It’s old, around forty years.”

“Why are we drinking?”

Something about Kona broke her resolve. It always had, and it was no different now. She couldn’t hide anything from him. Those looks, the determined tone of his voice, stripped away her mask, completely shattered the hard veil that hid what she felt. The tears started, felt like an insult, but one more sip and she cleared her throat, lifted her chin to face him. “I’m tired, Kona.” She shook off his hand pulling on her fingers and moved her glass in front of him. She didn’t need the distraction of his touch. “Drink with me.”

He hesitated, quiet, considering before he held onto the glass. “All right.”

Kona’s sip was long, and Keira liked the stretch of his neck as he downed the drink, how his throat worked as he swallowed. Damn. Just him doing something so mundane as drinking had Keira hungry for a taste of him.

Eyes fluttering, shaking away the sensation, Keira pulled on the bottle, swigging from it like it was water and not fiery whiskey. “I heard the press conference.” Kona’s stare was easy, but behind those dark eyes, Keira caught his focus, the steely gaze that told her he was thinking, considering her and the thought made her nervous, made her eager. “It’s good. Ransom needed that. You love him?” She knew the answer to that question, but she wanted to hear him say it. She wanted Kona to confirm that he had fallen for their son just as quickly as she had.

Kona’s mouth twitched as he fought a grin, but his nod confirmed what she already knew. “Of course I love him.”

“Funny how that happens, right? How sudden. How quick.” She tried for another swig, but Kona took the bottle, filled his glass again. “Never thought I could fall in love with someone I’d only know for a few seconds, but that’s how it was,” Keira said, closing her eyes at the memory of that day. God, Ransom had been beautiful as a baby. Huge pools of dark eyes, perfect brown skin. The moment she held him, Keira had been smitten. “They pulled him out of me, laid him on my chest, and that screaming, swollen little thing just looked up at me like I had all the answers for him. I didn’t have a single one.”

“Keira, you worked miracles. He’s amazing.” Kona’s voice was sweet and soft and Keira heard the emotion it, the pride.

“I had help.” The sting in her eyes again, the frustration and fear, burning hotter than the throb in her throat, and Keira did not care about Kona seeing her tears. She didn’t care that she looked weak, vulnerable in front of the one person she wanted to believe she was fearless. Pushing the glass away, Kona reached for her wrist, fingers closing around it, and Keira could only shut her eyes against the sensation of his skin on hers. “Sometimes I think it’s all hopeless. Me, you, us together.”

“Why?”

Her skin flushed when Kona touched her face. “Because I thought I was too broken, that there was nothing left of my heart,” she said, covered his hand with hers.

Kona was at her side, and he leaned over, stretched to kneel in front of her. She could hear his every move, feel every stare even if she was blind.

“What else do I have to do?” Kona’s breath was warm, smelled delicious with the smallest hint of scotch. That scent made Keira’s mouth water. Warm fingers back on her skin, Kona on his knees in front of her, and his free hand on the back of her chair—a cage of his body, but one Keira didn’t retreat from it. “You are the most stubborn, bullheaded woman I have ever met.”

“I said sometimes I think that. Not always.”

That curious expression on his face was deep, confused, and Keira heard her old self whispering, voice growing as Kona frowned, his low working growl fell over her, and Keira let go, stepped back to let that girl she’d been running from surface.

“I just need to know. What do you want from me?” For a moment, he was shocked, as though the question was ridiculous, but Keira’s posture was easy, her breath came out smooth and calm, and Kona’s small frown left his face.

“Everything. I want it all.” He had never looked at her the way he did then. Eyes so impassive, so steady, but beneath them there was heat—fire—and Keira swore she could feel it licking against her skin, kissing her with that sweet burn.

“Even if there’s not much left to give? Even if my heart is too damaged?”

Touch gentle, voice softer, Kona rubbed his thumbs along her cheeks, and Keira was stunned by the bright sheen in his eyes. “Even then. Besides, it’s not too broken, nani. If it was, you’d be asleep in your bed, not bothered by everything that’s happened today. If there was nothing left, you wouldn’t have crumpled when our son went on a violent rampage. You wouldn’t have bothered to come see me in my hotel room.” Kona’s breath was sticky sweet, warm against her face. “You wouldn’t have touched me, loved me like you did last night.” She held her breath, heart strumming quick when Kona placed his palm against it. “This thing is bigger and healthier than you realize. I want to help you fix it. I want to spend the rest of my life fixing what I broke.”

Keira took a breath, said a small prayer for strength, and looked back into Kona’s eyes. “Then I have to say something to you.” She sat up, moving his touch from her face. “I’ll say this once and then I won’t ever mention it again.”

They were both to blame, in all of this. The running, the fighting, the distance, they both held equal pieces in that fault. Kona nodded at her, folding his arms across his chest, stance defensive as he waited for her to say her piece.

“I deserved to be loved. I deserved for you to never stop loving me, because I gave my heart to you. I put it in your hands. I trusted you with it. And Kona, you broke me. You broke me like I was nothing.” The slow blink he took told Keira that his guilt hadn’t left him. She wondered if it ever would. “You took everything that was precious to me, everything that I held so close to me, and you let everyone tell you it didn’t matter. You listened to everyone else and ripped my heart into shreds. You filled me up, made me feel what I didn’t think was possible, and the moment I was the happiest, the very second I thought it would last, you ripped what I’d given you like it was nothing, as if my heart, my love for you, was just thin paper that could be crumbled between your fingers.” The light glinted in Kona’s eyes, and the quivering of his chin belied his ability to contain his emotion, but Keira continued, needing to finish, needing him to know just how badly her heart had been shredded. “You broke me, Kona, and if it hadn’t been for Ransom, for the small part of you that was left behind, I would have stayed broken.”

Fingers in his hair, Kona looked around the room, searching for excuses, maybe grasping at reasons that would make sense to her. “I was a boy, Keira.”

“You were my world.”

“You said you forgave me. I don’t have the words, and they wouldn’t mean anything to you. I could say I’m sorry a million times and they’ll still be words. What can I do?” He pushed back the chair until he was in front of Keira again, eyes pleading, desperate. “What can I do now for you to forgive me?”

“You don’t understand. This is what I’m telling you… I did forgive, Kona. I forgave you the second they put Ransom in my arms, because your absolution was that perfect, precious soul. But I never forgot. I couldn’t. I had to learn my lesson. I had to remember what the ache felt like.” Keira gripped onto Kona’s arm, wanting him to understand. “I had to remind myself that when you love someone so completely, when they consume everything you are and then they leave? Well, it hurts too much. Who I was then is not who I am now. And if you want to love me, to really love me, you need to understand that. That girl is gone. She died a long time ago.”

She let him pace, work out the truth for himself as Keira slid back to her chair, pulling Kona’s half full glass of scotch in front of her. When he stopped, returned to his knees in front of her, Keira took a sip, eyes unfocused at the dark liquid in her glass.

“Look at me.” Keira let him take the glass from her. “I came for you. I came to fight for you. I told you I wouldn’t let you stay gone, and I won’t.” Keira let a small sigh moved past her teeth when Kona brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I need you to know something. I need you to really know something that I’ve been trying to say to you for months. I need you to see that what I'm saying is real.” She let him move her head, holding it steady. “It’s been inside me for a long time, Keira. It’s been asleep, but it hasn’t ever died.”

He released her, and Keira could only manage to look at him, wondering what he’ll say, hoping it’s not goodbye.

“I think about all the fucked up things I’ve done in my life. I’ve disappointed so many people. I’ve made choices because I was selfish. Because I was greedy.” Kona rubbed the back of his neck as though those sins were too heavy to think about. As though the memory of them lay thick and full in his mind. “But even in those times when I thought I’d die from my stupid choices… when I thought whatever I was doing was just something I added to the long list of fuck-ups, I saw your face. It was your face that got me through all that. It was your smile,” Kona’s fingertips were soft, tickled Keira’s cheek, “the spark in your eyes, the way your fingers raked over my scalp, the way your body felt so real, so perfect in my hands, that kept me centered.

“But you cursed me, Wildcat. You told me I would regret letting you walk away, and I did—every day since you said that to me. I didn’t forget. Not even when I was drunk on money and bitches and all the bullshit they threw at me to keep me happy.” The stinging returned to her eyes, and Keira knew it wasn’t from the loss she felt. “I couldn’t forget you.” He touched her face again, thumb back on her cheek, smoothing away the moisture there. “Your face, your name, your smile, it was here,” he touched his chest, just over her tattoo. “It’s lived here for so long, and I tried to kill it. I tried to run from that curse. I tried to forget that there was a girl with big blue eyes and a laugh like a fucking song that had gotten under my skin. I tried to forget that I loved her. I tried to deny that I hadn’t ever stopped. But I can’t. I don’t want to.”

That wild, manic girl sang to her, told her that she could have it all, take back everything that once made her feel real and loved and brave. She didn’t fight Kona, didn’t jerk away from him when he kissed her head, wiped her face dry.

“You said we were bad for each other and maybe you’re right. Maybe time is what we needed. To be apart from each other, to learn ourselves before we could have each other for good. But I’m done waiting.” His chest was inches from her nose, and Keira inhaled, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from kissing against the peak of skin visible from the opened button of his shirt. “I’m done trying to kill something that was never meant to die. I’m done trying to wipe you out of my heart. It’s no good.”

Kona had touched her so many ways. There has been anger, passion, the grip and pull of his hands on her body, of his knuckles inside her and Keira loved them all; even the threat of danger, of violence. She expected that to return. She didn’t expect him to be calm. But as Kona reached for her, moved her chin up so she is forced to look at him, she saw that determined expression that told her he wanted her attention, wanted her to look only at him, wanted only him. His fingers were sure, certain, but gentle: a plea rather than the demand. This time, when he took her face, he asked for permission. He didn’t take anything.

“I want you today and tomorrow and every day after that. I want to roll over in bed every night and know that you’re there, right where you’re supposed to be. I want babies,” he closed his eyes as though the idea was sweet, precious, “a thousand damn babies with you and I want to watch you get fat and miserable with me inside you, Keira. I want first steps and first words and for someone to call me Daddy.

“I want all those years to disappear in every second I spend with you for the rest of my life and I won’t let you tell me that it’s not enough. I won’t let you believe that we are still bad for each other.” His voice grew louder, his touch became firmer. “I don’t care if we are because you make the bad fade away. You always have. You always will.”

“You think it’s really that simple?”

“Damn right I do. It’s very simple. I love you. You love me, let’s stop fucking around and get on with our lives. Everything that happened—all the lies, all the disappointments, all the years we wasted… we’ve got to let that shit go. Time to move ahead. Together. Me and you, Wildcat. Just me and you.”

Kona’s words were like a spell, weaving hope, eagerness into her. She let him kiss her forehead, pepper kisses over her face. Until her tears were full, brimming over her lashes and onto her face.

“The other night… you asked me.” She looked up at him, then back down at her hands. Tears flowing. “You asked me how long it’s been.”

“I did.”

“Too long, Kona.” Keira thought shame should come, maybe embarrassment, but it didn’t. If Kona wanted honesty, if he wanted her raw, then she’d spill all her secrets, give them to him one last time. “Ten years.” His eyes widened, mouth opened. “I tried once. Only the one time.” Keira dried her face, shaking her head at herself. “I got drunk. Went to a bar and ran into a friend of mine. This guy I knew from the Bluebird. He was a good man. He was sweet, and I just wanted to forget that I had a kid at home that needed so much from me. I wanted to forget that I was alone. That I had been alone so long. I… I slept with him… I slept with him and cried the whole time.”

When that flame shot over her cheeks, Keira covered her face, driving out the memory of that man and how helpless he looked when every time he kissed her or touched her and she jerked, twitched as though she couldn’t stand to feel him against her skin. But she made him continue; she replaced his long, thin fingers, a guitarist’s fingers, with wide hands and big knuckles. She pretended that it was Kona touching her, loving her, and when that failed to calm her, she’d let the tears come.

“Keira…”

Head lowered, Keira threaded her fingers together, stared at the chipping paint on her fingernails. “I’m gonna need your help, baby. You’re gonna have to remind me how to love you again.”

“I will. We’ll figure it out together.” Kona stood, pulled Keira up so he could take her hair between her fingers, so his mouth was closer to hers. “We were kids when we loved each other. We were fire and passion and obsession. You were right about that.”

“And now?” She held her breath waiting for his words. Keira ignored the voice telling her this was pointless, that what she’d tried to bury should stay in the past.

“Now we’re whole. Now we’re thick, so thick, baby that we can’t breathe.”

The fear was still present, still bit into her limbs. “That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Then we just need to hold onto each other.” Kona’s kiss was brief, too fleeting, and Keira had to hold herself still, keep from following him when he leaned away from her. “Remember what you said to me once? ‘I don’t want easy. I want impossible. I want love so thick, I drown in it.’” Kona nuzzled her nose, rested against her forehead with that breath, that warm, tingling heat fanning against her face. “Keira, come drown with me.”

The delay was brief, a moment that shifted the breath on her skin, that fractured any lingering doubt from her mind. Kona Hale was her always. He was her past, the part of herself Keira thought she could forget. But as she stared at him, as he waited for her answer, a small gesture that made his features relax, Keira realized that there was no hole deep enough, no grave dark enough that could keep their love dead. It hadn’t died, not really. It went untended, untouched for sixteen years, but it always remained tethered, always took up space in her broken heart. Now it filled the spaces of that dead muscle, it inflated the withered bits left weak by the past, by the punishment Keira had forced upon herself for years.

Now it was large and beating, shuddering and wild.

And it belonged completely to Kona.

She didn’t answer him. She didn’t say “yes” or “I love you.” Keira simply lifted closer to him and kissed Kona like it was the first time. He took that kiss, and Keira smiled against his mouth, loving the sweet groan he released. Then, Keira kissed him harder, surer, pulled herself around him, arms on his neck, legs around his waist, tongue working in his mouth so fierce, so quick that Kona staggered back, falling against the wall.

“Baby. Jesus.” Kona’s chest was beautiful, strong, moved quickly as Keira popped open his shirt, untucked it. His hands were everywhere all at once; on her hips, down her thighs, pulling down her thin yoga pants, cupping her.

“Oh, God, Kona.” Keira managed a breath, a small break from his mouth before he slipped his fingers inside her. “Wait… oh… let’s… let’s go to my room.”

“No,” he said, two fingers now moving in her center, straight to that sweet knot he’d always loved to tease. “I need you now…against…against the wall.” Keira’s eyes rolled up, her shoulders shook when Kona attacked her neck, nibbling up to her ear. “I don’t wanna wait. Not anymore.”

A flurry of limbs, quick, wild groans, fingers moving, mouths sucking, and before Keira could register what was happening, Kona slid into her, body raw, hot against her, his wide dick moving easy, smooth, over and over.

“Say you’re mine, Keira.” He thrust, moved her hips over him, fingers digging into her skin. But she couldn’t speak, could barely manage to keep hold of his shoulders. “Tell me, baby.” Another thrust that had Keira trembling and Kona turned them so that Keira’s shoulders moved against the wall.

“Yours…only yours.” She clenched against his dick and smiled at the way Kona moved his head, how he squinted at the sensation. “I’ve always been yours.”

Kona broke her heart once. But it was Keira that left the remains tattered and frayed inside her. With his touch, his body, his brilliant, blinding love, he pulled it back together.

“I love you, Wildcat, so much I can’t breathe.”

She smiled against his mouth, rocked into his body as he moved. “Then stop trying. We’ll…God…we’ll be breathless together,” she said, stroking her fingers over his heart, and Kona paused, expression open, sweet.

His fingers were large, and when he slipped his palm over hers, Keira’s hand disappeared. “Together, baby. Always.”