Second Shot K.O.K (The Brooklyn Bears: Season 1)

8. Present Day

EIGHT

PRESENT DAY

Nalani

I ’ve finally gotten it as close to shutting as it’s going to get and decide the best course of action is sitting on the damn thing. So, I climb on my bed, plop down on it, and slowly move my body in a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree turn as I zip up everything that I can possibly fit into it.

I begin to sigh with relief until my bedroom door flies open, and I hear the click , click , click , click of heels coming my way.

“You just started law school, young lady. You?—”

“I’m well aware of that,” I grumble as I slide off my suitcase, off my bed, and onto the cold marble floor.

“You cannot leave here; I forbid it,” she demands.

I glance over and see she’s wearing a linen robe, which tells me that after our fight yesterday, which lasted for nearly twelve hours, she didn’t lose a moment’s sleep. She no doubt woke up this morning, worked out with her trainer, and went for a swim. Nothing has changed. She’s unaffected.

I pull the handle up, slide the carry-on strap around it, and grab my crossbody. “I’m an adult. I?—”

“You leave this house, and none of the privileges of being a Kāne leave with you,” she cuts me off, her eyes narrowing into thin slits. “The credit cards will be canceled before you step foot off of this property.”

I unzip my crossbody and pull out my Black Card, my AMEX, and even the bank card attached to the joint account they started when I was sixteen and began working at our family’s resort. “I don’t need them.”

She crosses her arms in defiance. “You have lost your mind, young lady.”

I don’t reply as I head toward the door.

“Don’t you walk away from me!” she calls after me. “We have made more sacrifices than you can ever imagine giving you the life you’ve been given. The very least you could do is?—”

“You made your own choices, and it’s time I make mine, too.”

When I’m halfway down the stairs, she calls after me, “Mano, stop her!”

Dad is standing at the bottom of the stairs as I walk by to slide on my shoes.

“You’re making a mistake Ku’u.”

“It’s mine to make this time,” I remind him.

“Wait until the new year. Wait until?—”

“I love you, but I’m not waiting anymore.”

“We still need to get things cleared up regarding the resort’s future,” he says, following me out to the ride I ordered that’s waiting.

“I have three months to make my decision,” I remind him as I continue walking.

“They’re a good family. They?—”

“Stop, just stop, or the answer is a resounding no,” I say as I pull the carry-on off the handle.

As I open the door to put it inside, I realize that the car is tiny. It’s so small, in fact, that I’m not sure my suitcase will fit in it.

As I step back, I see Dad hoisting it into the trunk.

“Thanks,” I murmur.

He walks over and hugs me. It’s one I don’t really want to return but know I’ll regret it if I don’t.

“Make the right choice, Ku’u. If you need anything?—”

“I don’t need anything but you two to stop trying to control my life.” I feel my eyes getting wet. I promised myself I would not freaking cry. Fabulous. Now I’m breaking promises to myself, too.

“That’s not what we’re doi?—”

“That’s exactly what you’re doing.” Buckling the safety belt, I tell him, “I love you both, but I need a break.”

As we pull down the long drive, I turn and watch him stand there, arms crossed, watching me leave as Mother comes out of the house and falls into his arms, no doubt being her overdramatic self.

Huffing, I turn to face the front so I don’t have to witness what I am sure will be an epic Pua Kāne meltdown. My eyes catch familiar ones in the rearview.

“Running away from home, rich girl?” Alana, a girl I went to high school with, asks.

Deciding to hold my tongue instead of giving her shit back, I shrug.

She rolls her eyes as she turns onto the main road. “You’ll be back.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“You heading to New York?”

I look out the window and pretend I didn’t hear her, but how could I not? I’m all of five-four, and in this vehicle, even my knees hit my boobs.

“Classic.” She chuckles. “Never understood why those teams released contract information. It’s like blood in the water for the sharks who have never had to make it on their own.”

I’ve had enough. “With all due respect, Alana, shut the hell up or drop me off so I can order another ride.”

She shuts the hell up.

As we near the entrance to Kahului Airport, I roll down the window as I take one last, long look at the island—the swaying palms, the clear blue sky, the sun—and inhale the scent of the salty breeze mixed with tropical flowers. It feels surreal, like the island itself is giving me a warm, nostalgic hug before I leave it behind.

The last time I left this place to head to the States, my parents were here, waving me off with teary eyes and cheerful smiles, with Mother calling after me the same reminder she gave me five times on the way there: “Don’t forget to call when you land.”

Now I’m stuck with Alana, whose rich girl digs are annoying and lame as hell, seeing how her parents are wealthy, too. It’s not like she went tits out and followed her middle school dream of saving the world or whales; I’m pretty sure it’s been both at one time or another.

She pulls several car lengths past my drop-off point as an FU to me, so I don’t bother saying thank you when I step out. I walk around the car and wait for her to pop the trunk, and she just sits there like the bitter snatch she has turned into, staring at me in the rearview.

This bitch , I think as I glare at her.

She finally gets out and takes her time walking around the tiny little e-car and hits the key fob to pop it.

“Not that you give a shit, but if you’re going to New York to screw Koa over again, when you come back, I swear I’m going to kick your ass.”

I yank my severely overweight suitcase out and set it on the pavement. “I hope the app has a negative ten-star review option.”

“He’s always been one of the good ones, and his success hasn’t changed that; he deserves better than what you gave him.”

I have had enough!

“There are one hundred sixty-five thousand people on this island; why are you ragging on me?”

She steps away, saying, “Because I used to think you were, too.”

That catches me off guard. What the hell have I ever done to her? Or anyone, for that matter? I’ve never flaunted my wealth or decided to be mean for sport with anyone, and right now, I can’t beat myself up trying to figure that out, so I file it under things to overthink at a later time.

Forgetting about her, I drag my suitcase down the sidewalk toward the automatic doors, thinking that all the work I’ve spent hyping myself up over the past week before confronting my parents and keeping through the blowout now feels like a hundred-pound deflated lead balloon dragging behind my giant suitcase. But I keep on going. I promised myself that no matter how this went down or which direction it took, I would not let it stop me from moving forward and staying on my path. Not even this damn suitcase is going to slow me down.

After paying the insane amount of money airlines charge for the heavy bag and realizing it would have been cheaper to check another, I remind myself that I can’t let things like that slide anymore as I head toward security. I cannot fail at this literally before I even hit the gate.

Standing in line, I pop my ear pods in and scroll to the same playlist I have been playing on repeat for a week, titled, “The Best Summer of My Life.” I find myself smiling at the fact neither Koa nor I could ever remember that song we danced to before we knew who one another was, how Sophie told us we were the weirdest couple she knew, that we acted like friends and not lovers, and that the only way she’d accept we were together was if we picked a song.

In that smooth and incredibly sexy way that is only Koa, he slid me off his lap, stood, and moved in that fluid way he does to the sound system beside KOK’s Bar in the backyard of the hockey house, and the song changed to “No Brainer.” I set it on repeat.

Standing in line, I breathe deeply, trying to stay calm while fumbling to remove my slides while packed in tight against travelers who seem to think the closer they get to the X-ray scanner, the faster they’ll get to their destination. I’m pissed that I’m not wearing socks in the airport, but then I remind myself that I walk barefoot on the sand where there are most definitely fish and turtle poop and, more than likely, someone has pissed, or worse, there, too. I unpack my carry-on into the tote and worry that I accidentally packed something like a giant tube of sunscreen, which would be a waste of space because it will be unnecessary since I’m going to New York where the sun is more than likely behind a skyscraper, and the leaves will be changing soon, and then … snow.

I’m at the gate half an hour before boarding and am lucky enough to find a seat near the window. I watch planes take off, thinking about the unknown ahead of me.

I’m a ball of nervous excitement, but as time ticks by, the nerves devour the excitement.

“What am I even doing?” I whisper to myself. But it’s too late for doubts as they announce the first boarding group.

For the first time in my life, I am not boarding with the first group, and I’m oddly excited about that.

The flight itself is a journey of its own. Maui to New York—it’s not a hop; it’s a freaking marathon. I find myself squeezed between a guy who is clearly taking advantage of the armrest situation and a mother who is not any older than me with a newborn. An hour later, I’m holding a tiny baby girl so she can use the bathroom. Even though I never thought I had a maternal bone in my body, because my mother never did , I find myself at such peace that I almost don’t want to return the little one.

As the hours tick by, I wish I could sleep, but my mind races. What will I do if I don’t feel as I do now when I see him? How is he going to feel seeing me? Do I wait to explain my situation, or do I drop the bombs—plural—immediately? The Koa I knew would appreciate it is all laid out there, but have the years, the fame, the fans, and the puck bunnies changed him? It’s wrong of me to feel jealous and angry, but there it is. I, Nalani Kāne, am angry at losing him due to the stupidity and lies I was fed and jealous over the multitude of models and actresses on his arm for fundraisers and events.

“Would you mind?” Claudia asks as she stands.

“I love holding her. Go use the ladies, and then come back and get a little sleep.” I hold the sleeping beauty against my chest. “We’ll be just fine.”

I wake up when the captain announces we’ll be landing in twenty minutes, wearing Savannah in a stretchy wrap that Claudia insisted I wear just in case I dozed off, so she stayed snug against me. I felt as if that was a bit over-cautious, but now I see why. Claudia is curled up in a ball, and I let her stay just like that.

“I need to feed her before we land,” Claudia says with a bit of panic seeming to rise in her voice.

“You wake her to eat?” I ask as she throws a blanket over herself to shield herself from view.

“If I don’t, she’ll end up waking hungry at the most inopportune time, like while I’m trying to keep her stroller at my side and pull two suitcases to haul to a cab,” she says as she takes Savannah and situates her.

“You don’t have someone picking the two of you up?” I ask.

“This little one and I have it all under control.” She smiles, looking down at her daughter with a look that reads, you are my everything .

“Where are you two heading?” I ask.

“Manhattan,” she answers, smiling softly down on her.

“Me, too,” I lie. “I have a car,” I lie again. “We’ll drop you two wherever you’re going.”

“I have taken advantage of your kindness for this whole trip. I can’t?—”

I shake my head. “You have no idea what you’ve both done for me. And besides, it’s about dark. I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t know you two have gotten to your destination.”