The last time Keira sat in those bleachers, she was sick, working up to a flu, and Luka had told her love made her stupid.

Now her son ran around the field, right alongside hundreds of other players, sprinting a 40-yard dash, pushing his body beyond its limits. Keira could tell he was making extra efforts, trying like hell to impress his father. She didn’t blame him. Ransom always excelled, she guessed, because he wanted to draw attention to himself, maybe subconsciously prove that he was worthy of love.

He didn’t need to lift a finger to do that. Not with her, and not now, with Kona.

The big Hawaiian watched their son on the sidelines, a smile broadening his mouth as he chatted with Brian, his old football buddy, now assistant coach of the CPU team.

Keira didn’t feel comfortable there. The campus and its memories were like a bruise to her, something that had faded but still ached if she brushed too close. But Kona had insisted, made Keira promise to cheer Ransom right along with him. It wasn’t hard. She’d been cheering her son in everything he’d attempted over the years.

Except that damn race.

When the boy beat the clock ahead of two larger, stronger players, Kona shouted, brimming with pride, and Keira snorted, rolled her eyes at his excitement.

He’d been doing that a lot. Every time Ransom played a particularly complicated chord on the piano or guitar, every time he tackled Kona as they practiced, the man’s excitement was palpable.

Often, Ransom had told her, Kona offered him rewards—new clothes, expensive shoes, a tour of the Steamer’s stadium and, last week, Kona announced he wanted to throw Ransom a big sixteenth birthday party.

“I don’t need all that, Mom. What do I tell him?” Ransom had asked and Keira sympathized with him. But she knew Kona. He’d be disappointed if Ransom turned down the opportunity for Kona to spoil him a little, and when she mentioned that to Ransom, the boy stopped complaining about his father’s plans.

“He’s just excited to be around you, son. He’s making up for lost time.”

On the field, a whistle blew, signaling a break, and Ransom looked up at her, offered her a quick wave before he fell to the ground, exhausted, excited, with a huge grin on his face.

Kona noticed the move, said something in Brian’s ear, then ran up the steps to sit next to her in the stands.

“He’s great.” Elbows on his knees, Kona focused below them, to the players, to their son as he downed a bottle of water. “Seriously, two more years with him improving, and he can write his own ticket.”

She noticed the way he bobbed his head, as though he planned, schemed, what their son could accomplish, what would be available to him with a little bit of hard work.

“Have you talked to him about that?”

He looked down at her, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Have you talked to Ransom about what he wants to study? Where he wants to apply to?”

Kona turned his attention back to the field as the players lined up for drills. “Business, he said.” Kona stretched back, slinked down into the seat. “CPU has a great Business department. I think Professor Walker is still the Dean, but I’m not sure. It’s what my degree is in.”

“Yes. Business. That’s what it is this month.”

“What?”

Keira smiled, sitting up straight in her seat, folding her hands in her lap. “Kona, he’s almost sixteen. Last year he wanted to go into the military.” His mouth dropped open, eyes big and shocked. “Three months ago he was determined to go to LSU because of their Communications program and when he was eight, he wanted to be Thor.” Kona’s frown deepened, and Keira almost felt bad for him, for the disappointment she saw paling his dark complexion. “He’s a kid, Kona. He has a lot of grand ideas, but Ransom has no clue who he is or who he wants to be.” When he continued to frown, rubbing the back of his neck, Keira sighed. “One thing that hasn’t changed though, is how much he loves to play. Don’t worry about that. Wherever he goes, he’ll be on someone’s defensive line.”

Kona’s eyebrows moved up, and his smirk was deep, exaggerated the cleft in his chin. “You know positions now?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Keira watched Ransom’s move on the field, that focused, steady stare he narrowed as he tackled a kid twice his size. “That boy has been playing football since he was big enough to carry the weight of peewee shoulder pads. I’ve had to learn.”

When he wasn’t practicing with the Steamers, Kona had spent nearly all his time with Ransom. Keira didn’t mind; she was still dealing with lawyers, lagging estate issues and trying to fit some writing in for the deadline waiting for her back home.

            They hadn’t spoken much and when they did, it was always about Ransom, about his party, or if it was okay with Keira that Kona take him for a weekend. She’d been reluctant about that one, but their time together was important. They needed that time before the end of the summer when she would take her son back to Nashville. But she had caught Kona staring at her, sometimes just in a glance, sometimes a long stare when he thought she wasn’t looking.

            Kona confused her with the clash of his focus on Ransom and those heavy stares that she didn’t understand. Stares like the one he gave her now.

            Eyes shifting to the right, Keira cocked up a brow. “What?”

            He moved his head, a brief shake before he returned his attention to the field. “I never got to tell you, but I’m sorry about your mom.”

Her laugh was small, bitter. “You hated my mom.”

Kona shrugged, couldn’t seem to help the smile of agreement. “So did you.”

Ransom moved faster, widening his stride down the field, and a flash of wind shot in front of them as ten players whipped past the bleachers, setting a chill over Keira’s skin. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Kona laughing to himself, shaking his head.

“What now?”

“Nothing changes, not really.”

“Oh, things change, all right.”

“That’s true enough. But you getting cold in seventy-degree weather? Still the same.” He moved closer, pulled his arm around her shoulder, like him touching her was natural, normal. 

The scent of his cologne drifted from his skin, that delicious tang that never failed to make her heart pound like a machine.

She guessed he was right. “People don’t change. Things do.” She felt him watching her, the dip of his chin, the way his hot breath skated down her cheek, but she wouldn’t look at him. That kindling needed to remain in its ember state. It scared her, the return of the blaze, that mad, desperate fire when they were together. She moved away from him, but gave him a smile so he didn’t think her rude.

“You’re not a coward.”

“What?”

A small lean, a whisper against the shell of her ear, and Kona’s voice was deep, drugging. “I was just trying to keep you warm. I wasn’t trying to move in on you.”

“I know.”

“Liar.” Then he sat back, set his elbow on the armrest right next to Keira’s hand. She watched him. There wasn’t a smile on her face and the scrutiny had him running his fingers over his forehead, down his high cheekbones. “You scared of me, Wildcat?”

She laughed. “No. I always knew Samson wasn’t a monster.” She looked away, returned to watching Ransom move around the field. “A bastard sometimes. A jealous prick, but not a monster.”

“Right back at you, sweetheart.”

She couldn’t deny it. She was just as insane as he had been. The it factor again, seeping in to destroy them, to enable them to destroy everything good that they were. “We were kids. We were pathetic, wild kids.”

“We were in love.”

Kona’s expression was light, but in the quick glance he gave her, Keira saw a fire, a determined confidence that told her he remembered the past differently.

“You think that’s what it was? Love?”

His face lost all semblance of calm. He frowned, his forehead wrinkled and a small part of Keira felt an instant wave of guilt. Had she devastated him? Had she shattered all he remembered about them?

“You don’t?”

Mouth opening, words stuck in her throat, Keira couldn’t watch him, not that intense stare or the slow dip of his eyes when they landed on her mouth. “I think we were bad for each other. I think we were stupid for thinking that passion and insanity and jealousy had anything to do with love.” She looked at the vestiges of his shock, how they were replaced with annoyance, perhaps a dab of anger. “We always fought. Always.”

Kona was silent, staring at her, jaw working, but then he nodded, and his grin returned. “We were always pissing each other off, true enough.”

“You had too many groupies.” She couldn’t help the little dig at him, loved the way that grin transformed into an outright smile.

“You were always trying to break up with me.”

She laughed. “I had a temper, and you loved pissing me off.”

“Fine. We were insane.” Again he moved closer to her and she felt warmer. “But not all that was bad. Not all that fire was bad.” He moved her hair off her shoulder, and she wondered what he was thinking, but didn’t ask. “I thought it was love. I thought I’d die from how much I loved you.” When she refused to return his heavy gaze, he took her pinky and moved her hand onto his knee, running his thumb over her knuckles. The gesture was simple, subtle but it poured a lot of unexpected, forgotten sensation into Keira’s heart. Kona leaned forward, squeezing that pinky. “It was love to me.”

“You have a selective memory.”

“Why do you think that?”

She pulled her hand from his leg. “You don’t remember how many scratches and bruises I gave you? Or how many times maintenance had to patch the drywall in my dorm because you’d gotten pissed at me for one thing or another and punched the wall? You don’t remember the bottle in my hand outside of Lucy’s?”

“Oh, I remember. Still have the scar.”

“Exactly.” Keira curled her arms together, tightened them over her chest. “That’s not healthy. That just wasn’t healthy.”

“Maybe not, but I remember a few other things too.” For a moment, Ransom was forgotten. Kona shifted around to face her, leaning on his elbow, gaze catching hers, making her still. “I remember you staying with me at the hospital when my grandfather had his heart attack, even while my mom made it clear she didn’t want you there.” He moved closer still, pulled her arms loose so he could rub the inside of her wrist. “I remember you being the only one who told me I wasn’t pathetic. No one ever loved me like you did: unconditional, unwavering. You never set limits. Not once.”

Keira knew he was right. She knew that amid all that insanity, that crazy, dangerous passion, there was real love. They were unhinged. They were volatile, obsessed, but all of that desire came from what they felt for each other.

Still, age and maturity told her passion didn’t mean healthy. It didn’t mean that something so wild and manic could be normal. “That was the problem. No limits. Having no limits meant I was reckless. We were both reckless. It’s how we got him.” She nodded toward Ransom doing laps on the field, and Kona turned away from her as they both watched their boy.

“You sorry about that?” he said, eyes still on their son.

She didn’t hesitate to answer him. “Not for one second.”

“And neither am I.”

 

 

It was the cymbals that stopped her breath.

Three small taps that broke across the crowd of well-wishers—Kona’s friends, kids Ransom had befriended from Leann’s neighborhood over the years—that hummed a soft, sweet melody straight into Keira’s heart. She knew this song. So did Kona, and it took only the small movement of her gaze, weaving around dancing bodies, right to his dark eyes, for Keira to understand he recognized it too.

He didn’t watch her, not immediately. Body relaxed against his chair, and that wide, long arm outstretched on the table as he moved his glass of scotch between his fingers, Kona’s expression was blank, perhaps bored for the three long breaths Keira couldn’t seem to release.

And then, a twist of his bottom lip, and his gaze flicked right to hers. 
She knew he remembered it—the song, that night, them alone in her too-pink bedroom.

Above her, the lights of the ballroom dimmed, the party slowed to welcome the heat of dancing bodies and the soft seduction Dave Matthews whispered out from the speakers. But Keira only half-noticed how dark the room became, how thick the air grew. Kona’s gaze was heated, leveled at her like a kiss across her skin, and Keira couldn’t take it, not the rush of memory or how the man sitting across this ballroom seemed to remember what that song, what that night, had meant to her. How it had changed them both. Keira stood, backed away from the table, in search of lighter air and freedom from the look Kona gave her.

She needed a reprieve from him, from the song that shot flashes of memory heavy in her mind. She still saw it all so clearly, felt his large hands on her naked thighs, the way his teeth raked across her collarbone. How he cupped her, teased her, how wide he felt inside of her.

Keira suppressed the shudder that chilled her skin, and she slipped through the crowd, finding the quiet of the city below her on the balcony. New Orleans shined in front of her—slow activity of blinking headlights, the low, almost unrecognizable refrain of a trumpet in the distance, and for a moment she closed her eyes, focused on that horn, hoping it would vanquish the flash of overwhelming memory.

Behind her, the opulent party continued. Ransom seemed happy, drunk on the attention, on the praise Kona had given him all night, the introduction to players he’d long admired. She was happy for her boy, overwhelmed that he was now sixteen. But the night, the crowd, and her laughing, dancing son was momentarily forgotten as that endless song persisted, taunted her. She moved away from the glass doors, to an empty table hidden next to an alcove, hoping she’d go unnoticed. 

She didn’t know why she was still there. New Orleans wasn’t home anymore. Her stepfather’s estate could be settled over the phone, through emails and faxes. If she went back to Tennessee, there would be no complications. No former college sweethearts who wrecked her life. No hints of him wanting back in to see how much more damage he could do to her.

He hadn’t forgotten. There had been too many lingering stares shot in her direction, too many times he saw fit to touch her arm, direct her into a room with his hand on the small of her back.

She knew what he wanted, but the idea of reliving the past was too much.

Hands shaking, Keira pulled a half-smoked joint from her clutch, hurrying to catch a small hit that would numb her to Kona’s stare and those hopeful little hints he’d been giving her for the past three weeks.

One hit, then another, and Keira could feel the tension leave her, if only for a second.

“That’s bad for you.”

She closed her eyes, cursing herself, cursing that song and the memory she knew pulled him out there.

Keira hesitated, tried not to notice yet again how much larger he was; how that massive twenty-year-old she loved so helplessly had somehow managed to grow bigger, more imposing.

She managed a look, brief and flippant, over her shoulder and blotted out his large shoulders, his defined chest, how thick and delicious his cologne smelled on the night breeze.

“I have a habit of picking up things that are bad for me.” She didn’t like how easily he chuckled, or how close he stood next to her. “Besides, this is only an occasional indulgence.” Kona’s attention moved behind him, to the glass doors before he reached for the joint. “Hypocrite,” she said when he took a long drag.

“Occasional, Wildcat, like you.”

Keira didn’t watch him too closely, didn’t want to be consumed by his thick lips pinching on the joint or the wide veins on the top of his hand as he held it. Instead, she looked at the waiter who stepped outside to collect a few empty glasses. From the open door that never-ending song blasted out like a feather touch, teasing, reminding.

Their eyes met.

“I never hate hearing this song,” he said, moving closer to pass back the joint.

She thought, at first, she’d play dumb, but he knew her tells, was a master at recognizing when she was lying. It was pointless to act like she didn’t remember. How could she not? He’d taken her on her pink sheets. The collection of stuffed animals she’d long ignored fell from her plush covers with every movement of their bodies as this song played on repeat.

“You haven’t forgotten, have you, Wildcat?” Kona watched her lips circle the blunt as she inhaled, her tongue flicking out to wet her dry mouth.

“No, I haven’t.” She looked at him, hoped he didn’t notice the heat she felt warming her neck and face as he stared at her. “How could I forget?”

He took the joint when she offered it, and their fingers touched, then joined when he threw it on the ground so he could grab her hand, move her to the brick wall, then back her in between his massive arms resting on either side of her head.

“You wore a Black Crowes T-shirt and nothing else.” He shifted his fingers through her hair, pushed a few strands off her forehead. “I remember your hair was wet.” Kona twisted a curl between his fingers.

Then Keira was shaking, swallowing hard when he abandoned her hair completely and ran his fingers over the thin strap of her dress. “You weren’t supposed to be there,” she said, hypnotized by how good his fingertips feel against her shoulder, across her chest. “I had a shower because the heater broke. It was so…so hot in that room.”

“It got hotter.” There was a quiver moving his lips, and she couldn’t tell if he was fighting a smile or frown. “Sweet like candy…” he said, moving too close for breath, for control.

Every detail was seared into her mind, and the heavy timbre of his voice, the gentle fingering of her skin with his calloused hand only heightened the memory. 

He smelled the same, felt the same.

The embers threatened to blaze.

“You felt so good, so tight around me, Wildcat.”

Oh, God.

She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let the memory take over. But his fingers lowered, moved down her arms, his enormous chest came forward, and she released a soft mew of surprise when his thick thighs rubbed against her legs. He was so close that she could do nothing but raise her eyes.

“Dirty little rascal…remember that, nani?”

“I…I do.”

She didn’t stop him when he kissed her. She let herself take in the heat of his massive body, let it work over her skin. She inhaled him—his scent, the hot rub of his tongue against hers, along her bottom lip. At first, she thought she wouldn’t react, that she’d push back the sensation, ignore how sweet he tasted, how hard he felt against her. But then he held her arms, leaned into her until her back rested fully against the brick wall behind her, and Keira was lost. 

Kona still made low groans in his throat when he kissed her, still had the softest lips, the most demanding, wide tongue. She couldn’t help herself. He was an addiction, her favorite drug. She wanted a hit. She wanted a million hits of him.

She worked her hands up his arms to his immense shoulders, and his groaning deepened, became a growl of pleasure when she returned his attentions. Their mouths weren’t frantic, but they did match each other. He pushed, she pulled, like always, like habit, and it was a delicious drugging dance; one she didn’t know she’d missed so much. 

She felt the swift lick of disappointment when Kona pulled back, but it disappeared with his fingers holding her face and the tips smoothing just over her cheekbones.

“My dirty little rascal,” he said, but he didn’t return her smile, seemed struck by how close they were standing, how easy this had been, to fall back into old habits. It was returning…their reactions to one another were primal, instinctual.

Un-fucking-avoidable. 

The song ended, but Kona hadn’t stopped examining her face. His breath was still hot and panting over her cheeks. It would be easy, so fucking easy, to let him consume her.

Kona leaned in again, somehow moving closer, another hit that would edge her toward overdose, and she stopped him. The rational part of Keira’s mind pushed back the sensation of his touch and the embers were extinguished.

“Wait.”

He paused, but didn’t move away from her, didn’t move his fingers from her skin. “Wildcat, come on.”

“What are we doing?” Keira knew that expression. It hadn’t changed in sixteen years. Kona’s face was calm, but he frowned, forehead wrinkling in his agitation, and Keira stopped another attempt of his lips against her mouth. She pushed him back, palm flat against that tempting chest. “How’d this happen?”

Kona’s shoulders sagged, and finally, her skin was free of his touch.

“Memory lane,” he said.

“That’s a dangerous place.”

“If you say so.”

“I can’t do this with you.” She took a breath. “I can’t ever do this with you again.”

“Why the hell not?” His anger wasn’t quick, not the instant snap of frustration she’d always known from him, but there is no humor on his face and despite her small rejection, he hadn’t moved his arms from the brick behind her.

“I told you. We were not good together. I can’t…” Another slow breath and Keira tried to calm, to ignore the heavy scent of his skin filling her senses. “I won’t be that girl again.”

Too easy, she thought, reminding herself how effortlessly Kona consumed her. Moth to flame, eager to die in the fire. She hated who she was with him, most days. She hated that she forgot good sense, any smidgeon of reason when he was around her. She didn’t like who she’d been back then, and it was that girl, that unbalanced, obsessed girl, that Keira had been running from all these years. She wouldn’t let that girl return, not now, not even for Kona.

When she slipped out of the cage of his impossibly large arms, Kona reacted, old habits surfacing. He grabbed her, and for a quick second, Keira felt her teenage self return. His fingers were hot on her bicep, licking heat, anger, passion, through her limbs, and Keira feared the sensation, hated that she loved it so much, that she’d missed it more than she wanted to admit. 

Just like that, she was ready to react, to fight, and it took all Keira’s strength to repress that inclination. “Don’t…” And at her small warning, Kona jerked back, hands up as though she burned him. “You see what I mean? Barely a month and we’re flirting with past behavior.”

“I’m sorry.” Keira thought he might be telling the truth. He fanned his fingers through his hair, eyes rounded as though he couldn’t believe how he’d reacted. “Please,” Kona said, taking a tentative step forward, voice easy, calm. “Don’t leave.”

She didn’t want to see that expression on his face; the one that told her he was different, that his overwhelming presence was no longer dangerous. He’d fooled her once. He wouldn’t get a second chance. A quick shake of her head and Keira turned away from him, tried to focus on a plane in the sky, shooting away from the city, wishing she was on it.

Kona’s breath warmed her neck as he stood behind her, and Keira cringed at how much she’d missed this—him, her, the heat, the passion. It was like refusing the best high she’s ever had. “If I don’t walk away right now, I’m going to kiss you again,” she whispered.

“I want your kisses. All of them.” Kona’s low voice was heady and firm, and Keira had to tighten her eyes closed when his fingertip slid down her spine and between her thick curls.

“I can’t. We…no, we can’t.”

“You’re scared,” he said, mouth hot against her neck.

“I’m petrified.” Despite herself, Keira leaned back, let Kona wrap his hands around her waist. She failed at trying to convince herself she hated the weight of his large hand against her stomach. “I buried this shit. I left and didn’t want to look back. Your…memory, your touch…your tattoo, I got rid of it all.”

Kona sighed, his grip on her waist tight, but when he spoke, his voice was low, even. “I would never hurt you. You know I’d never touch you, not like that.”

No, he never had. Not once. She’d slapped him and punched him because she was angry, because they were twisted, because they both got off on it. But Kona had never returned the favor. His wounds ran deeper, cut wider.

“You’re no good for me. You were never good for me.” Keira turned, took a step back so she could look at his face, so she can see how determined he was to change her mind. “I was a crazy person with you. Obsessed. I can’t relive the past.”

“I’m not the same person.” Kona pulled her forward, gripping her waist in his too large hands until their bodies were flush, until Keira could feel the hard, delicious planes of his chest and the corded muscles underneath his pants. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. She knew he wouldn’t let her go.

Kona took her face again, moving her chin so she was forced to look at him. “You’re not the same, Wildcat, and that was a long time ago.”

And then Keira let that girl sneak to the surface. She let her take Kona’s mouth, pull on his collar so that her tongue licked against a wide expanse of tempting, copper skin. She let that girl enjoy Kona’s mouth, his hands, how hard, demanding he felt against her, until the night darkened, deepened and her rejection, though halfhearted, came again.

Kona stopped pushing, stopped demanding and before he left Keira out on that balcony, he reminded her why she’d loved him in the first place. He reminded her why she should love him again.

“I only know one thing—no one sets my skin on fire like you do. No one. Not one person has ever made me feel like I’m alive . That hasn’t changed, not in sixteen years. Don’t try to pretend it isn’t the same for you.”