- FEN -
“I’ve never seen anyone so fascinated by the sight of roads.” I gaze at Kaila as she continues to peer out the window of the plane.
I’m not even sure how she’s managing to keep her eyes open right now, much less glue them to the sight of the breadbasket of America stretching out thirty-six thousand feet below us. We flew out of Kona late, then changed planes in Seattle before most of the world had even had their morning coffee.
Besides that, these seats in first class that Ryan sprang for are almost as comfortable as a bed.
“You don’t get it—I know.” She barely spares me a glance. “But when you’ve been surrounded by water your whole life, this is really a sight.”
Over her shoulder, my eyes rest on the sight of farmland extending out as far as the eye can see, sectioned off by roads that make the world below us look like a ninth grade geometry worksheet (or seventh grade if you’re as smart as my oldest brother).
It doesn’t look like anything special to me, having grown up in Ohio. I saw plenty of land, enough to make me appreciate the vibrant blue waters that surround my new home.
But I guess the opposite is true for Kaila.
“Well, we’ve still got a long flight ahead of us. You should skip the coffee and get some sleep,” I comment just as the flight attendant brings her a refill of her coffee. They’re so damn attentive in first class; I don’t think I’ll be able to go back to coach.
When Ryan said he wanted us in Ohio for a meeting, I’d fully expected to make a reservation myself. But apparently that’s not the way things work at JLS Heartland.
I’m not comfortable with that. Even when I flew back to the mainland for Ryan’s wedding, I paid for my own ticket. And I was stationed in South Korea at the time. So flying on the family’s tab is a new experience for me.
And I swear I won’t get used to it. I won’t.
But damn, these seats in first class feel so good…
“No way I could sleep right now,” she answers, then nibbles on her bottom lip adorably. Too adorably. “I just wish I packed my new suit in my carry-on bag.”
“They’re not going to lose your luggage,” I drone, seeing as I’ve said this to her about ten times since we boarded back in Kona. “Besides, if they do lose it, anything in there can be replaced.”
Her eyes bug out. “Are you kidding? You can buy a sundress or mu‘umu‘u anywhere on the island. But finding a nice business suit and heels was hard.”
“You didn’t have to buy anything special. Ryan’s not that uptight.” I’m only half telling the truth there.
“I wanted to,” she admits. “I’ve always wanted a reason to buy a suit.”
My brow hikes up. “Hell, I joined the Army half because I was trying to avoid suits. And you want to wear them?”
“Yeah. That’s all I want, actually.” She almost says it wistfully, her features softening—the way a mainlander might look when describing the shorelines of Hawai‘i. “I know it sounds crazy, but I’ve always wanted a job where I could wear something other than a uniform. Something like I’d see on those shows on TV.”
“Clearly, you were never a Game of Thrones fan,” I observe and she rolls her eyes in response. But then I add curiously, “So what is it you want to do, then, when you show up to work in your suit?”
“I have no idea, really. I’m twenty-five and have spent the past seven years trying to finish my bachelor’s.” Her tone sounds defeated. “I guess I just want a job where I get to use my brain and not dress in a boxy uniform that you and I could wear interchangeably.”
“Your uniform isn’t that bad.”
“Oh, come on. I look like a blob in a tropical print.”
I allow myself to give her more than a passing glance. She’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts—nothing special about it. But the way it hugs her curves has me reminding myself that I promised to keep my hands off her. “For the record, Kaila, you could never look like a blob.”
Filled with surprise, her eyes meet mine. I have no idea why. She knows how much I’m attracted to her. Even though my brothers will say otherwise, I don’t invite just anyone to follow me back to my place after a drink or two.
It was just bad luck that it ended so poorly.
Or good luck, I remind myself. Because sex with Kaila had felt too good—too addictive—to be sustainable. I had wanted her to spend that entire night with me. Wanted it so much that I’d already been wondering how long I could stretch this thing between us before it would be categorized as a relationship.
Because I can’t do relationships.
Her eyes are still locked on mine, and I feel this undeniable pull toward her. The seats in first class may be wider than coach, but she’s still too close to me. Too close… because looking at her right now, all I can think is how easy it would be to lean in and see if she tastes as good as I remember.
“So you have no idea what you want to do when you graduate?” I force the words out because light conversation may be the only way I can keep myself from lacing my hands into her hair, tilting her head, and…
“Not really.” Her words derail my dangerous train of thoughts. “In Hawai‘i, it’s not like I’m exposed to many different career ideas. There’s tourism. And then there’s more tourism.”
“Geology,” I suggest, wracking my brain—more to pull it out of its testosterone-drenched stupor than anything else. “Marine biology. Astronomy.”
“Do you know how many people are fighting to get those few jobs?” She scoffs. “Everyone wants to live in Hawai‘i.”
“Everyone but you,” I point out. I glance out the window over her shoulder. I’d wager we’re over Kansas now. “So what do you want to do while we’re here?”
“Are you kidding? I’ve got a list.”
“A list?” I’d have a hard time filling a list with things I wanted to do in Ohio. But that’s me. “Care to share?”
She bends to retrieve her purse from under the seat in front of her and hands me a folded piece of paper.
“Drive is number one on your list?” I ask.
“Yep.”
I cock my head. “You do have a car on the island, correct?” I say even though I’ve seen her car, and it looks like it’s hacking out its last breaths.
“Yeah, but we don’t have interstate highways like you have. I want to actually cross a border.”
“They don’t do anything cool like stamp your passport or something.”
She sends me a pained look. “I know that. But I want the sensation of it.”
She’s on the road to disappointment, I can tell already. I look at number two on her list. “See a grocery store.” I set it down on my lap. “This is a joke right? You’re trying to get back at me about the green sand.”
“It’s not a joke.”
I hand the list back to her. “I’m not falling for this.”
“There’s nothing to fall for. I really do want to go to a grocery store. A big one. The kind we don’t have on the Big Island.”
“There’s a Target in Kona,” I point out.
“I know. But they’re different on the mainland.”
They’re really not, I’m tempted to tell her. But I can’t handle the idea of bursting her bubble. I read the list again. “Shop?”
“Yeah. I want more heels.”
I crack a smile. “You’ll have to check out the outlets. We’ve got a ton of them.”
“Really?” She’s practically salivating.
“Really.” Looking down again at her list, my mouth curves sharply downward. “See wildlife?” Shit. She does know that Ohio is hell-and-gone from anyplace like Yellowstone. “What kind of wildlife are you looking for?” I ask cautiously.
“Any kind we don’t have in Hawai‘i, I guess. Like maybe squirrels.”
Squirrels. I shrug inwardly. Well, that’s easy enough. I look at the list again. “Cracker Barrel?”
“Mmhmm. I went to one when we went to Disneyland when I was a kid. It was so good. I heard they’re all over the Midwest.”
I give a nod as I bite back a smile. “So, you went to Disneyland, but it was Cracker Barrel that you remember best? You’re an odd one, Kaila.”
“Don’t tease.”
“Odd is good. I think it’s cool. So what do you want to eat there?”
“I have no idea. I just remember it all seemed foreign to me. In my family, it was always fish for dinner. My mom knew a thousand ways to prepare mahi-mahi. No pot roast or country stew or anything like that.”
“Hell, you don’t need to go to Cracker Barrel for that. My mom whips up a great stew.”
“Oh, I don’t have to be there when you spend time with your parents. They’ll want to see you on your own.”
“Nah. I need the company,” I say too quickly.
She looks at me curiously. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“I mean, you didn’t say you’d like the company. You said you’d need the company.”
Nothing gets by her, does it?
“Oh, well,” I start uneasily, “let’s just say there’s a little friction in my house.”
“Why’s that?”
My mouth opens to say… too much. There’s something about Kaila that makes a guy like me want to open up more than usual. I could do it—too easily.
Since I’ve lived the last fourteen years of my life without even telling my brothers what happened, I find it odd that I feel compelled to tell Kaila.
Yet there’s this part of me that feels like she’s owed some kind of explanation for why commitment is a four-letter word for me. Because after being with someone like Kaila, a guy should want to commit to her.
Hell, guys should be lining up to commit to her.
“My parents named me after a baseball stadium. Wouldn’t that cause a little friction?” I joke instead.
Joking. It’s what I do.
After the flight attendant serves us breakfast complete with mimosas (did I say yet that I’m loving first class?), Kaila’s eyes migrate straight back to the window and I shut my eyes.
After being in the Army, usually traveling in C-17s, I’m blessed with the ability to sleep like a log on planes.
This time, when my mind shuts down, I find myself face-to-face with Kaila in a dream.
On the dance floor again at Cam’s wedding, she’s warm in my arms, just like I remember, and I can feel her chest vibrate slightly as I hold her close and she murmurs, “You’re a good dancer, Fen,” even though I know damn well I’m not.
Someone taps me on the shoulder and I bristle, unwilling to let them cut in until I hear the voice repeat, “Fen. Fen…”
“Fen…”
“…Fen, it’s time to wake up. We’re here.”
My eyes fling open and I feel Kaila’s gentle touch on my shoulder. She pulls her hand away from me quickly when her eyes meet mine, and I almost want to tell her not to. I’ve missed her touch on me.
“You were out like a light.”
“I always sleep like this when someone else is doing the flying,” I tell her, glancing out the window to see the airport alongside us. I look back at Kaila and her eyes are lit with excitement, even after no sleep. “I hope you haven’t built all this up in your head. It’s just a typical Midwestern state.”
“I’m a business major about to pitch an idea to a CEO. This could be done over a shave ice in Waikoloa and I’d still be this excited.”
After we’re in the terminal, I drag our carry-on luggage over to baggage claim and glance at my phone to see if my parents are here. Before I even manage to tap in a text, I feel my mom pull me into her embrace.
“Fen,” she says. “You’ve been away too long, honey.”
What is it about a hug from my mom that makes me feel like I’m five years old again?
I have been away too long. She’s right. But I’m reminded why when my mother loosens her grip on me and my dad gives me one of those guy half-hugs coupled with a handshake.
“I’ve forgotten how much taller you are than me,” he chuckles.
I stiffen when he’s close to me, standing up that much straighter, as though I want to differentiate myself from him in any way I can.
But for my mom’s benefit—always for Mom’s benefit—I smile. “Dad, Mom, you remember Kaila from Cam’s wedding.”
“Nice to see you again, Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan.”
“Jan and Scott, please, Kaila. You’re family to us. Especially now that you’ve managed somehow to get our son to visit. Usually it takes a wedding or a funeral to get him off your island.” My mom engulfs her in an oh-so-Midwestern hug.
“Oh, I didn’t have anything to do with it,” Kaila denies.
“That’s not what I hear from my nephews. They seem very curious about the girl who wrote up that proposal.”
“How much did they tell you?” I angle a look at my mother.
Mom fills me in as we wait for the bags to arrive, and I’m more convinced than ever that this entire meeting at JLS is a scheme to get me to come for a visit.
“But they really are interested, Fen,” she emphasizes, as though she can read my mind. “The foundation that your cousins set up in the Sheridan name is doing some wonderful things.”
I glance at my dad, always curious about his reaction at the mention of JLS. My dad’s smile droops slightly, though not as much as it did when I was a kid. I suppose that everything softens as we get older—abs, pecs, grudges.
After we claim our luggage and find the car, my mother chatters the entire drive from the airport to Newton’s Creek, but I’m more interested in watching Kaila’s face as we drive along the highway.
As impressed as she is with our highways, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised when she absolutely falls in love with Newton’s Creek the instant we hit Anders Street. It’s built up so much, yet somehow retained that classic hometown feel.
It was on the path to being a ghost town before my cousin arranged to have the commuter bus pick up here, then bought up a bunch of the overgrown land and abandoned buildings and saved them.
“This place looks like it belongs in a Hallmark movie,” Kaila says.
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but my mom seems to.
“It does. You should see it at Christmas. There are paths that lead to a circle down there.” Mom points. “And the Sheridans put a giant live Christmas tree there every year. The whole town gathers for the lighting. Ryan even dresses up as Santa Claus for it.”
As we pull into the driveway of a row of townhomes, I tuck my chin in. “Wait—Ryan does that? I’d have pictured him more as the Grinch rather than St. Nick.”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it? Getting married and having kids has definitely softened him up. You should try it, Son.”
“Mom.” My annoyed tone sounds more like I’m a teenager again.
“Dinner’s at six. A couple of your cousins will be there.”
“Will Ryan be there?” I ask, unloading our bags from their car. It might be beneficial to talk to him about my plan first in a more casual environment.
“No. Ryan’s in Vancouver till Wednesday morning checking on progress on a JLS development. And Dylan’s with Cass shooting a commercial in L.A. or New York or someplace.” She shrugs. “But Logan and Allie will be there tonight… and they’re bringing all their dogs,” she adds with meaning. She knows the one thing I hate about my condo association on the Big Island is that they don’t allow me to have a dog.
“Hot damn. I may never leave then,” I say.
“I wish you weren’t joking when you said that.” She hugs me. “Now, Kaila, we’d absolutely love for you to join us. But we understand if you want to just catch your breath, too. It’s a long flight. Logan told me the service came and stocked your refrigerators, so there should be something in there you like—in case you just want to stay in and rack out for the night.”
I laugh quietly at my mom saying “rack out.” She’s picked up a few phrases from my brothers and me, but they just don’t suit her.
“Thanks so much,” Kaila answers. “I didn’t sleep on the plane so I’m pretty tired.”
We part ways with my parents, and I walk Kaila into her townhome.
She shakes her head as she enters it. “I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea of owning homes that no one lives in regularly.”
Hauling her luggage up the stairs, I glance over my shoulder at her. “Boggles the mind, doesn’t it?”