Dr. Steven Michaels, heart surgeon, was a nice enough man. He was intelligent. He was handsome, and he was very safe. Keira liked to think of her stepfather as vanilla or beige. He was straight lines and defined boxes and expectations that one should never deviate from. Ever. “Planning,” he’d told Keira for the past six years, “is the hallmark of sanity.”

Steven was also very boring.

When Keira watched her mother with her husband—at the dinner table, out at the movies, at parties with their friends—she often wondered if her mother had somehow acquired a lobotomy between her father’s death and her marriage to Steven. The two men could not be more different. Steven was a starched, cotton sheet that scratched against the skin. Keira’s father had been a vibrant old quilt, with soft threads woven and fitted together by time, by color, by heartache.

Steven—he insisted that Keira call him by his first name—also had little time for his stepdaughter. Keira was fourteen when her mother married the good doctor, and he seemed about as interested in a relationship with her as he would be in getting a full-body tattoo. He treated her as decoration. She was a lamp. She was the silent little lamp that should be dusted, should fit in with the rest of the furnishings, perhaps interesting if there was a lull in the conversation, but not curious enough to invite a lengthy dialogue.

And so Lamp Keira sat in the waiting room of Dr. Beige’s office because her mother had insisted, for at least the tenth time, that she have lunch with her stepfather. Her motives edged toward the obvious, and Keira suspected that the mysterious Mark Burke would make an appearance.

She really didn’t want Mark Burke to make an appearance.

“Keira,” she heard the middle-aged nurse say, peeking her head out of the office door.

She stood, the plastic, gray chair in the waiting room creaking as she moved. “Is Dr. Michaels ready?”

“He said he’d be about ten minutes. Here,” she passed Keira a dollar bill, folded in half. “Dr. Michaels said to grab a water out of the vending machine, and he’d be ready for you by the time you get back.” The nurse’s mouth twitched, her eyes shot to Keira’s left and the shadow that approached behind her. A little nod of her head and Keira knew who to expect. “Mark will keep you company until your stepfather is ready.”

And just like that, Mark Burke stepped into Keira’s life. It only took a moment for the anger to surface, but unlike the freedom that Keira enjoyed at school—where she could lash out, argue against whatever situation made her angry—in Dr. Beige’s environment, Lamp Keira had to clamp down her temper.

Keira didn’t want to face him. She didn’t want to do anything but walk down the hallway and pretend that Mark Burke didn’t exist. She knew what this was: step one in her mother’s Grand Plan. She and Mark were supposed to meet. They were supposed to date and then decide, sometime later, that they should connect their Five Year Plans.

On her own, Keira would never be enough. Her mother wanted a Stepford daughter. She wanted her to marry well, study hard, and conform into someone Keira never had any hope of being. Pretty smile, pretty life, broken spirit.

Keira managed a smile, something she’d perfected as a kid, and then a quick nod to Mark before she led him out of the office and into the hallway.

“Nice to meet you.” Mark’s voice was pleasant, even, practiced, just like it should be, and Keira tried not to laugh at the frozen smile on his face. He had a nice face, handsome, with high cheekbones, a long, straight nose and full lips, smooth and very pink, and his teeth were perfectly straight. Too straight. Too perfect. The idea came to Keira then, as Mark held onto that practiced smile, that he looked like a clone of every other boy she’d met in her mother’s social circle.

Hair: perfect.

Skin: flawless.

Teeth: expensive.

And just as something rude, something very un-Stepford began to make its way out of her mouth, Keira realized her expression likely mimicked Mark’s, that her hair and skin and everything else of hers was just as polished as his.

She felt like a hypocrite.

The vending machine was to her right, and Keira stopped, staring up into Mark’s hazel eyes, hoping she would see something flicker, something alive and real and not practiced, moving there.

“I’m sorry,” she finally said when that too polished smile began to fracture, “but this was not my idea.”

And then the flawless Mark Burke laughed. Keira liked the sound. It was melodic, like the vibration of a wineglass, and kept tension from binding up her shoulders.

“I know that. Trust me, I know how this all works.” Mark ruffled his thick hair, scratching his nails through his bangs, and Keira noticed that it was mildly floppy. It fell just an inch or two against his forehead, dark and wavy. “Our parents,” he said, nodding toward the vending machine, “have ideas about status.” Mark waved off Keira’s offer of the dollar her stepfather had left for her and pushed his own into the machine, handing her a sweating bottle of water. “I think it’s in the water, personally.”

“What is?” Keira leaned next to him against the wall, relaxing when Mark rested his head back.

“This idea that we should be something they couldn’t, which is stupid, because what they really want is for us to be just like them.”

“You think so?”

He looked down the hallway and then took a sip from his bottle. “They’ve screwed up their own lives, Keira and think we’re their second chance. They want us to get it right, but they haven’t got a clue what that right way is. So we are expected to do what they did, what their parents did.”

She picked on the label of her water, scratching the sticker until it clumped under her thumbnail. “My mom wants me married off before I graduate.”

“You’re eighteen?”

“Yeah.” Keira stood away from the wall and drummed her finger on the top of the water bottle, trying to gage Mark’s reaction, to see if he was just saying words he thought she might like to hear. When he only smiled at her, a relaxed, easy expression, Keira continued. “I’m barely out of high school, and she’s already talking about me settling down.”

“And I thought my mom was bad.”

“No one’s mom is as bad as mine.”

With another of Mark’s warm laughs, Keira decided that she liked not being alone in the Stepford Five Year Plan. It seemed to Keira that Mark, like her, had no intention of fitting the in-need-of-breaking mold Keira had been working up the nerve to avoid her whole life.

“My advice—”

“You have advice?” she said, walking next to Mark back toward Steven’s office.

“Probably more than you want. I am very old compared to you.”

“How old are we talking?”

“A good four years, so I’m quite wise and ancient.”

Keira’s smile grew, and she let herself enjoy the sensation of Mark’s hand on the small of her back when he opened the door for her. “So what’s this wise and ancient advice?”

Mark stopped her, a gentle pull on her fingers before they reached the lobby that separated her stepfather’s office and the hospital entrance. “One day, when you’ve had as much as you can take, tell your mother to kiss your ass.”

“Oh?” Keira said, between laughs. “Is that all?”

“That’s all there is to it.”

The sounds of the active hospital just a few feet down the hall collected around them as Mark slid his fingers away from her hand. He had a kind face and was relaxed now that the pretense of their first meeting was out of the way. She hated that her mother had been right about him. She hated that she’d judged him by the same standards she’d been held to her whole life. Her own expectations were a bundle of stereotypes she’d never challenged, but there Mark stood, looking at her as though he was also surprised that she wasn’t a Stepford clone either.             

“Have you done that yet?”

“Told my mom to kiss my ass?” At Keira’s nod, Mark frowned, but it was an expression of disappointment, not sadness. “In a roundabout way. She wanted me to do cardiovascular work like your stepdad. She even worked out this internship, hoping I’d change my mind.” Again, his hands went to his bangs, and Keira decided she liked that nervous tick; it made Mark seemed blissfully imperfect. “There are enough cardiologists and not enough ER docs. That’s where I’d like to be. Really, I’m just trying to figure things out.”

“Well, I hope you get you want, Mark. I hope we both do.”

A small step and Mark moved out of the way when two nurses ran in front of him, toward the hospital entrance. He smelled like sandalwood, and his shoulder brushed against her arm. They watched the nurses join the activity down the hallway, but stood still when the ER doors flew open, ushering in gurneys and paramedics and all the chaotic madness of the hospital.

“I hope we do too, Keira.” Mark’s smile was easy again, and his eyes went straight to hers, holding her attention, making her think of things that had nothing to do with her mother or her plans.

She was going to tell Mark she had enjoyed meeting him. Keira even thought she’d be bold enough to ask for his number, or at least give him hers. But then her stepfather darted through the office door.

“Keira, I’ve got to take a rain check. We’ve had an emergency come up.” And then he was gone, jogging down the hallway. Keira’s gaze left Mark, and that big smile and his sandalwood scent were forgotten.

An EMT-guided gurney swept into the ER on a wave of piercing sirens, and Keira stepped forward, led by something she couldn’t understand as Kona barreled in right behind it.

“Was he complaining of chest pains?”

“I’m not sure, he was in and out—”

“Has he ever experienced an episode prior to this one?”

“Episode? He has a bad heart.”

“I’ll need a list of his medications.”

Count to ten. Breathe. Just breathe.

“I don’t have that. My mom would know—”

“Do you have his insurance information?”

“No…I don’t—”

Kona’s temper was a thorn, piercing and sharp, but he had learned to control it. With time. With patience. Standing in front of this nurse in the green scrubs, her asking him a thousand questions he could never answer, made the urge to lash out hard to resist.

“What about his driver’s license?”

“No, he doesn’t drive—”

He had to step back, look away from her pink face and chapped lips. She kept asking questions, wanting to know what she could about his kupunakane. But Kona had never been good when shit got hard, and this was the hardest shit of his life.

“What about his primary care physician?”

Two…three…four…

“I don’t know. I think—”

Five…six…

“Is there any information at all you can give us, son?”

“No, dammit, there isn’t! I don’t know shit, okay?”

Kona’s voice broke over the loud commotion of the ER. Everywhere he turned there were people: sick people, crying people, nosy people, gum-smacking people, people getting further under his skin with every question they asked. Everything had spiraled out of control, and Kona hated it. Controlling things, keeping everything settled, in his hands, was often the only thing that kept Kona sane. He had teetered away from that sanity, from his calm, and it showed in his loud shout and the instant pause in all that activity around him.

The nurse tossed the folder in her hand onto the front desk and kept her voice soft, but the bite in her tone held a warning. “I know you’re upset, but getting angry isn’t going to help.”

He stopped counting. He stopped breathing, and Kona was seconds away from breaking his rules, the one that reminded him not to touch, not to scream, not to be something everyone expected he was: low, violent, and primal.

“Look, I can’t help you, okay? All I know is that I went by to see my grandfather and found him on the floor.” When the nurse didn’t react, didn’t do much more than continue to frown at him, Kona closed his eyes, focused again on the lift of his chest, the air moving into his lungs. Not looking at her, he scrubbed his fingers over his face, trying to block out the woman’s glare and cocked eyebrow. “He’s got a condition. A-something…A…A…fuck, I don’t remember.”

“Atrial fibrillation?”

A new voice, a kind voice. A familiar voice. Kona turned toward that voice, trying to focus on the face, trying to make sense of why that particular voice was here in the swirl of all the details scattering his brain. Her smile was hesitant, but real, honest.

“Keira?”

He didn’t touch her. There was too much noise in this place, too many questions he didn’t have the answers to, and more than anything, he didn't want to be here. He didn't want this nightmare to be happening.

What is she doing here?

And then Keira shocked the hell out of him, and grounded him and kept him from spinning out of control. She stood at his side, her fingers threading between his, keeping the shake out of his hand, as she faced the scowling front desk nurse.

“Dr. Michaels is my stepdad. I’m pretty sure he went back there.” She was cool, calm, and Kona could only watch her as she took control, talked to that nurse like an adult, like she had far more of a clue of what needed to be done than Kona ever would. “His mom teaches at CPU. History department. I’ll get her number and give it to you in a second.” Amazingly, the nurse smiled, barely glancing at Kona as she nodded.

Then Kona let Keira lead him back into the waiting room. She sat him down like a puppet master, making his knees bend, keeping his eyes away from the curtained area in the back where the paramedics had taken his kuku.

It took a minute for reality to settle in. An hour ago he was waiting on Kupunakane, sipping a beer and watching the door at the Maple Leaf, and then he was there, freaking out, sirens, fear, anger and…Keira.

He looked at her through his fingers, elbows on his knees. “What are you doing here?” he finally said when enough breaths had taken the rattle from his chest.

“Meeting my stepdad for lunch.” She was so calm. How could she be so damn calm? Kona knew he was staring. He knew she was probably wondering why his gaze moved over her face, why he was looking at her like she was a miracle. Then finally, Keira nodded, a silent cue that she understood his reaction, that she didn’t think he was a freak. “Your grandfather?” At his chin dip, Keira leaned back against the chair and looked past the front desk. Her eyes were impossibly blue, bright and shining. “Well, my stepdad is supposed to be one of the best cardiologists in the city.”

“How did you know about that A-Fib thing?”

She smiled. “Doctors like to talk shop at home. Mainly, I think my stepdad just likes hearing the sound of his own voice.” When Kona sat up, an unconscious fidget, Keira frowned at him, like she was worried, like she knew he wanted to dart back to the front desk and ask what the hell was going on. “This place sucks. This situation sucks, but you gotta be cool. These people are good; they’re here to help.  They’re just trying to get as much detail as they can so they know how to treat him.”

He could only offer her a small twist of his head, something vague, something flippant, and then he looked toward that curtain, wondering what the silence meant.

Keira joined him, watching the back of that room, his quiet confidant waiting for whatever news would come. Without thinking, he leaned closer to her, liking the sweet brush of her hair on his hand and the way she didn’t move away from him when he needed someone close.

For just a moment, Kona wondered how they’d gotten there. When he left her dorm a few nights ago, he was pissed off at her. That night he didn’t know how he’d manage the rest of their project without feeling stupid around her. He’d kissed her, thought she wanted what he did, thought he saw something working on her face, something that told him he could have her. But she didn’t want him. She thought he was dirty. She thought he was worthless. Kona’s pride had been bruised, and he’d brushed off any thoughts about Keira as soon as he left her dorm. At least he tried to.

But sitting in the ER waiting room next to her didn’t feel awkward. It felt good. She had an effect on him that he couldn’t explain. He’d noticed it once before. The night that asshole tried robbing her. Kona had been seconds from letting the rage building overtake him, lash out until there would have been no return from the violence that begged to escape. But Keira stopped him. Keira settled him, just like minutes before. He wasn’t sure what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to mean anything at all.

“Give me your mom’s number and the nurse will call her.”

Kona was on autopilot. His Nokia was in her hands and he barely blinked. He didn’t care that Keira would see his contacts. He didn’t care that she could read his messages. He just wanted her to keep him calm. And as Keira scrolled through his phone, as she walked to the front desk and gave the nurse his numbers, Kona thought autopilot was a good place to be. 

 

The coffee looked like piss.

There was something floating on the surface. It could have been sugar. Maybe a bug, but Kona kept staring at it, wondering idly how anyone could make coffee look like piss.

“Even people that don’t drink coffee have it at hospitals.” Keira leaned over his shoulder and squinted at the cup in Kona’s hand. “Except that shit,” she said, taking it out his hands. “Yeah. No. You aren’t drinking that.”

“How long you think it’s been in there?”

The silver coffee pot had a film over the base: a gooey, burnt mess that sizzled when the machine kicked on. It smelled worse than the coffee pouring from it, and Keira’s nose bunched up when the red indicator light beeped.

“Since Arthur was just a twitch in Uther’s shorts.”

Kona laughed. The sound surprised him, took the edge off what seemed like days as he and Keira had been waiting to hear from Dr. Michaels. It was the first time his head wasn’t consumed with thoughts of his kuku, and he looked at Keira, at that disgusted scowl bending her mouth, and he felt grateful.

“Wildcat, you are such a dork.” She shrugged, not bothered by his insult, and made for the lobby before Kona grabbed her wrist. “Thanks. You know…” he nodded toward the waiting room and felt stupid, felt raw as he tried to get her to catch his meaning.

“It’s no big deal.”

“It is.” He moved her out of the way of a cleaning woman, loaded down with a roll of plastic trash bags, who was heading toward the trashcan next to that stinking coffee pot. He didn’t let go of her arm until they were next to an empty row of chairs. “You calmed me down.” For what could have been the thousandth time, Kona looked behind the front desk, distracted by the traffic of nurses and orderlies that were still moving behind that damn curtain. But Keira seemed to know when he was worried, when the quiet bustle of whatever was being done to his grandfather had Kona slipping close to the edge of panic.

She touched his arm, tugging his sleeve to grab his attention. “I’m good in a panic.”

“Shit, I’m not.”

“I can tell.”

When Kona saw Dr. Michaels slip open the curtain and whisper something to a nurse, he stood up, arms squeezed tight across his chest and Keira was next to him, her shoulder bumping his arm. Just then, if he wanted to touch her, he knew she would fit perfectly underneath him: his chin on her head, her small body against his chest, set like a puzzle.

“Steven really is one of the best.” Her voice chased the thoughts of her against him from his mind. “Your grandpa is in good hands.”

Dr. Michaels offered him glance, and Kona thought he might come over with an update, but the doctor only looked at Keira, gave her a nod, and then disappeared behind the curtain. It wasn’t until Kona saw the small ripple of the floral curtain move back that he returned to his seat, with Keira at his side.

“He was unconscious when I found him.” Kona stretched out his long legs, brushed his feet against Keira’s before his elbows moved to his knees. “He was supposed to meet me at the Maple Leaf. Rebirth was playing, and he likes the trumpets.” Kona’s words moved automatically, each recall scarier than the next, but his voice was distant and to him, weak. “He didn’t show, and I got worried.” He didn’t react when Keira fit her fingers between his. He liked how natural they felt against his, how the slide of her soft skin sent a small vibration into his knuckles. “If I’d picked him up—”

“Kona, don’t do that shit. Seriously.”

“I’m just sayin’.”

“Yeah, and it won’t help. You’ll work yourself up with all the ‘if only’ crap. Trust me, I know.”

He looked at her, eyebrow raised. There was something on Keira’s face, some weird expression that Kona didn’t know how to read. She was looking for something, asking a question Kona wasn’t sure he wanted to answer, but Keira wasn’t a coward, that much he’s learned about her. And then that curious expression shifted, the uncertainty replaced by decision. 

“I was supposed to be with my dad the night he died.” Her voice was a whisper, barely lifting between her wet lips. Keira watched the floor, eyes steady without a single blink, and Kona understood this was her helping. That bare look leveled him, kept his gaze on the slow movement of her mouth.

“He wanted to take me to Biloxi for the weekend, but Leann had tickets to Babyface.” Kona couldn’t help but laugh; it slipped out, and he thought he’d missed his chance, that she would retreat. He relaxed when Keira’s smile widened to dent her cheeks.

“Don’t give me that look. ‘Whip Appeal’ was the truth when I was ten.”

Kona liked Keira’s smile. He liked her relaxed, but he knew she’d been heading toward something, moving close to an admission that would fill in the pieces she always kept from everyone. The hour and situation had them both bare, exposed, and Kona took a leap, wanting her with him, honest, just as raw as he was.

“How’d he die?”

Her shoulders fell as she released what was left of her indecision. She didn’t trust him; he knew that. They were barely classmates, but this was life: a moment when death lingered, when emotions were heightened by fear, by the worry that tomorrow would irretrievably change life as you knew it.

“Bloody.” The word came out behind a long breath.

Kona was caught in her stare, in that steely way she challenged him, told him he was skirting too close to what she wanted to keep to herself. But he still moved his arm behind her shoulder on the chair. It was all he could do. Even when he was weak, even when he thought she could be a tether to what little grip of sanity he was clinging to, Kona wanted to shield her from the pain that her father’s death still caused.

Keira didn’t brush his arm away, she didn’t reject the small, useless comfort he offered, but she did sigh, did rub her neck as though she didn’t like remembering that day. “He took the easy way out, Kona. He was sick and couldn’t face it. I told you, I don’t like to talk about it.” He didn’t push. He didn’t want to do anything that would have her retreating again. He didn’t want her walking away, so he nodded, looked up at the ceiling and tried to ignore Dr. Michaels slipping out behind that curtain.

“So I went to see Babyface with Leann, and I spent years beating myself up, telling myself that if I’d just spent the weekend with him, maybe he would still be here, like a ten-year-old has any freaking idea how to handle that shit.” Gaze back to her, Kona kept his attention on those quickly moving lips. “The point is, what happens, happens the way it’s supposed to, when it’s supposed to, and unless you got your medical degree in high school, there wouldn’t have been anything you could have done. We all get to where we are the way we’re supposed to.”

Kona didn’t know if he agreed with her. Maybe he would tomorrow. Maybe he never would, but Keira had a way, small gestures that made her seem so confident, convinced that whatever she said was fact. “So you’re saying everything happens for a reason?”

“Yeah, but I like my way better.”

Dr. Michaels moved to the front desk and starting scribbling something into a chart. Kona sat up, ready to move if the man continued to ignore him. But again, Keira deflected his anxiety, mimicked Kona with her elbows on her knees and her body inching closer to his.

He took a breath, started his countdown again when the doctor retreated behind the curtain, but Keira’s wrist in the dip of his elbow made him stop. She didn’t sit back, didn’t make that touch something brief, something only done to pacify him.

He caught the small movement of Keira twisting her silver ring around her pinky. Her fingers were long, thin, and the nail beds were smooth and trim. He shifted his eyes up, trapped her stare. There were only inches separating their faces, and Kona took that moment to watch the gray flecks in her irises, the smooth arch of her eyebrows. That face took away his worry, made him forget where he was, why he was there. “So what happens, happens, huh? And…you being here right now?”

Kona was fascinated by the small gleam on her lips. He thought she was going to argue, to tell him this meant nothing, but then Keira’s mouth closed and those big eyes softened. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

Around them, more people congregated into the waiting room. More sickness, more chaos, but Kona couldn’t make himself focus on anything but the sweet smell of her breath and how warm it felt against his face.  

“I’m sorry I stole a kiss.” He wasn’t sorry. In fact, just then, he wanted to try again. That night in her dorm, just the hint of her on his tongue had nearly wrecked him, and Kona spent the rest of that night telling himself it wasn’t as unbelievable as it was. He was getting good at lying to himself.

Keira’s grin was sweet, wasn’t mocking, and he liked how close they were, didn’t want her brushing off the flash of energy heating between them. “You told me. Before I even went there, you told me not to expect anything, and I jumped you.”

“That was you jumping me?”

“Well, no.” His laugh was the break they needed, pulled them apart so that he could breathe again, so that he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss her. “You get what I’m saying.” She still had no idea what she did to him. “I never have to try with girls. You…shit, Keira, you make me work for it.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

“True enough,” he said, bringing his shoulder to hers, just a small bump that brought back the flash. “The chase.”

“Freaking Lancelot.”

She leaned toward him, and he thought it was another moment. He thought she was giving in, telling him with the dip of her eyes on his mouth that she didn’t think he was less, that she wanted him to meet her, take her lips again. But she’d kept him calm. She’d taken the frays of his panic and held him together.

What am I doing?

He couldn’t mess that up. She’d stood by him without him asking, and he knew, because of who he was, because of the rules he’d given himself, that he couldn’t have Keira Riley. He couldn’t be enough for her.

“Mr. Hale?”

The nurse was calmer now. She wasn’t glaring at Kona when she called him over. Keira, and the moment of them staring at each other, slipping toward something real, him running from their potential, all faded away when he met the woman in front of her desk.

“How is he?”

“Dr. Michaels will be in to talk to you in a moment. Your grandfather is stable.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke, kept her attention on the blinking lights of the phone, and Kona stood there, trying to follow Keira’s advice, trying to be calm, cool.

“Can I see him?”

The nurse picked up the phone when it rang again and silenced Kona with her index finger pointed up, telling him to give her a minute. He didn’t realize he was growling, didn’t notice that weird, frustrated sound was coming from his throat until the nurse’s sharp eyes snapped to him.

Keira elbowed him, muttering “Calm down, Cujo,” before Dr. Michaels finally made an appearance.

The man was tall, lanky, but Kona knew he had at least five inches on him and so the scowl that wrinkled the doctor’s green eyes didn’t have the effect the man may have wanted. He pulled his fingers through the graying blonde hair, and his face pinched up when he glanced between Kona and Keira. “Your grandfather had a mild heart attack.” The doctor’s voice was impassive, with a hint of boredom. Kona felt the words move right through him. He had no bedside manner. There wasn’t anything gentle, anything approaching sympathy in his expression. “We’ll need to do surgery, but from what I’ve seen so far, he has a blockage.”

It was Keira’s hand in his, squeezing, telling him she was right there with him that kept Kona from losing the small grip he had on his cool. He felt the burn of tears starting behind his eyelids, but managed to keep them on his lashes with a hard squint. The thick knot in his throat, though, wouldn’t go away.

“When will he go in?” Kona watched that silver ring Keira wore. It had intricate knots like a rope and reminded him of a fairy.

“We’re bringing him up in just a few minutes. He’s unconscious and heavily sedated.”

Kona knew that meant Kupunakane wouldn’t know he was there. Dr. Michaels was telling him to sit tight and not get in the way. “All right.”

“Does your mother know where you are?” This, the doctor directed at Keira, and Kona heard the question for what it really was. Does your mother know you’re with this boy?

Keira’s hand fell away from his, and Kona kept his disappointment to himself. He wouldn’t let her see how much he liked the sensation of their fingers locked together. That was stupid. That was weak, and Kona was ripped open enough for one day. Let her run, he thought.

“She doesn’t.”

“Then maybe you should go home, Keira.” It was spoken more like a suggestion than demand, but the warning in the man’s voice was heavy with insistence.

Keira folded her arms, moved her chin to challenge her stepfather. “Kona’s my friend, Steven, and until his people get here, I’m not leaving.”

“My friend.” The words were there, bouncing around in Kona’s head, when the doctor walked away. Maybe it was just something to say, something she knew would piss off her stepfather, but Kona thought she meant it. He wasn’t sure why that made him smile. He wasn’t sure “friend” would be the word he’d used to describe Keira—but he was awfully glad she had.

“Your stepdad is kind of a dick,” he told her, pulling his lips between his teeth to bury his smile.

Keira kept her eyelids narrowed as she watched the doctor talk to the nurses, prepare the others to bring his kuku up to surgery. A pulse twitched in Keira’s top lip, a little quirk that had Kona’s smile retreating.

“He has expectations.” She finally looked at him and that twitch worked doubletime. “They all do.”

Keira’s gaze moved from his face to over his shoulder, and Kona followed her gaze to see his mother quickly advancing on them from the lobby doors.  She wrapped Kona in her arms.

Professor Alana smelled like vanilla, and her soft hair brushed against his face when she hugged him. “Keiki kane…keiki kane,” she said twice, under her breath, like saying “son” over and over in Hawaiian was a mantra of comfort, a balm meant for them both. 

Luka was there, too, T-shirt and jeans rumpled, his thick black hair sticking up in different directions and his eyes red as Kona offered his twin a nod, a quick glance that Kona hoped would ease his brother.

“What happened?” his mother asked, pulling out of his arms, her face lined with worry, and a fear that Kona couldn’t ever remember seeing her wear before. Underneath her black-framed glasses, Kona could see that her makeup was clouded and clumpy. By the wrinkles of her linen suit he knew she’d rushed to get here from campus.

“Heart attack.” 

Their reactions were quick—his mother’s quick gasp, her hands covering her mouth as she tried to silence her shock; Luka stumbled where he stood, his arms instantly working into a tremble. And then, Kona relayed what Dr. Michaels had told him, felt stupid and pointless doing it. For a second he thought he’d ask Keira to explain it better, but she had stepped away from them, had become a shadow when Kona’s mother approached.

Thankfully Dr. Michaels came out to the front desk just then, and explained to Professor Alana the details that Kona had been too confused—too exhausted— to understand. Luka shuffled behind them, listening intently.  Keira was still invisible, watching his mother, squinting when her stepfather gave the woman distracted, convoluted clarifications.

“He is a dick,” Keira confirmed, sliding back to his side. “See how he’s looking at her?” Kona nodded, moved his head so he could watch how the doctor’s face was pinched, how he gestured when he spoke. “That’s him dumbing down your grandfather’s condition. He doesn’t think your mom will understand him. That’s classic pretentious Steven.”

“Then he’s an idiot.” Kona took Keira’s hand and they leaned side by side on the wall to get a clearer view. “Watch this.”

They couldn’t hear the conversation, but Kona recognized his mother’s expression. One slim eyebrow lifted, and she tilted her head, staring over the oval glasses she wore. That was her “don’t fuck with me” look, and it worked, like always. Dr. Michaels swallowed and then rubbed his neck when Kona’s mother took a step, when that fearsome glare became a silent threat.

“Damn,” was all Keira could manage.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

Kona knew he shouldn’t smile at Keira. His focus should be on Luka and his mother, who listened as Dr. Michaels fidgeted around his explanations. But it was hard not to want to step closer to Keira.

Suddenly his mother left the doctor, expression closed off, stride confident, steady, as she moved toward her new target. She was going to take back the reins Keira had held in her absence. Kona knew the look his mother gave Keira. It was the same look she gave anyone that disappointed her. He’d seen her stare at Luka like that their whole life.

“I’m here now, Ms. Riley, and this is a private matter. It’s best you go.”

But Keira wasn’t shaken by the command in his mother’s voice. She blinked twice and sighed, as though she wasn’t surprised by the attitude. Kona felt lost, looking between them. Despite how stupid it sounded in his head, he needed Keira to stay. 

“You want me to stick around?” she asked him, completely disregarding how close his mother moved toward her, how fierce her glare became.

“Ms. Riley, I don’t think you understand—”

“Kona?” she interrupted, looking up at him. “You want me to stick around or not?” No one had ever dismissed his mother like that, and Kona was impressed. His smile was answer enough for her. “I can stay.”

His mother challenged her with another hard look, but Keira didn’t flinch. He had never seen her that way before—adamant, fearless— and Kona wondered if it had been their waiting together for the bad news he knew would come, her holding him up when he showed weakness, that had stiffened Keira’s nerve.

Keira Riley was a live wire, jerking and sharp, and part of him wanted to see if she would burn him. Part of him wanted to know what it felt like to hold that wire in his hands. 

But he knew being with her, touching her, letting her hold him up again, would only bury him deeper. He didn’t want deep. He wanted simple. He wanted easy. Nothing about Keira would ever be easy.

His mother cleared her throat, and Kona took that for the warning it was, her letting him know she wasn’t happy. He didn’t need the drama of the two women playing tug of war for his attention.

“Keira, it’s cool. I’m fine now, really.  Thank you.” And with that, his mother smiled, and she and Luka walked away, made for the elevators that lead to the surgery ward.

For her part, Keira seemed unaffected by his slight dismissal. She was good with that, bending to the change in his attitude.

“Okay. Well, I hope everything works out.” She pushed off of the wall, and Kona walked her out of the lobby. The parking lot was dark, and there was a small group of smokers lingering near a courtyard, the plumes of their smoke circling above them. Kona didn’t want her on her own, but his family was inside, his kupunakane’s life in the hands of an asshole. Like she had all afternoon, Keira seemed to notice the anxiety rise back to straighten his shoulders. “Go back inside, it’s fine.” When he didn’t budge, she pulled his chin down. “Go. I’ll be okay. My car is just a couple rows down and security monitors the parking lot.”

Keira let her hand linger on his cheek, and when she tried to lower it, Kona caught her fingers, kept them there. That live wire felt too warm, and he wanted to burn, just a little.

“Thank you,” he told her, this time with more feeling, as his fingers curled around her hand. And before he could stop her, before he realized he should stop her, Keira lifted up on the balls of her feet and kissed him right on the mouth. He was too surprised to push her away, then too sated to tell himself he should. It was over, and she was gone before he could kiss her back. He watched her walk away, wondering how he’d convince himself that Keira’s lips weren’t the sweetest things he’d ever tasted.