“Not so great.” He didn’t even glance my way as we walked to the car. It was ten o’clock and visiting hours were long over. My dad had left at eight to take Rio to a friend’s house, and I had stayed as long as they would let me, trying to fly under the radar. It had worked for a while, but eventually Moku’s nurse told me I needed to go.
Kona had been waiting in the visitor’s lounge. Silent, uncommunicative, angry, but definitely waiting. That had to count for something. Didn’t it?
We finally got to the car, and after he’d slid behind the wheel, I said, “Sorry it took me so long to come out. It’s just hard to leave him.”
Kona muttered something under his breath.
“I can’t hear you,” I told him.
He didn’t answer.
“Kona?” I prompted. I didn’t know why I was pushing it—whatever he’d said obviously hadn’t been good—but then again, I deserved it. And if we didn’t talk about his suspicions, if we just slipped them under the rug, they were going to grow and grow until everything turned ugly.
“I said, it doesn’t look like Moku is the only one you’re having trouble leaving.”
And there it was. The sore that was festering between us. “We were just talking, Kona. Nothing happened.”
“If by talking, you mean he was pledging his undying love for you, then yes, you were just talking.”
“It wasn’t like that—” I stopped, because I didn’t know what to say to make this okay, for either of us.
“He told you he loved you and called you his girl, like you were some kind of property for him to own. It was exactly like that.” He slammed the car into a lower gear, took a corner much faster than the speed limit allowed.
“And you just stood there and let him talk,” Kona continued. “You didn’t even bother to tell him we were together!”
“He knows we’re together! He knew you were waiting for me—or didn’t you hear that part of the conversation?”
“Oh, I heard it. I heard everything and I didn’t once hear you telling him to back off.” He glanced at me as he took another turn too quickly.
“I’d already told him that I couldn’t be with him—before we came inside.”
“Is that what you said? That you couldn’t be with him—not that you didn’t want to be with him? No wonder he didn’t back off. I wouldn’t either, not when it seems obvious that you don’t know what you want.”
“I love you, Kona!” I reached for him, tried to hold his hand as we zipped onto the freeway.
“Maybe you do—”
“Maybe? You know I do!” Dread crawled through me, an overwhelming feeling that my entire life was spinning out of my control.
He screeched to a stop in my driveway, slammed out of the car, and headed toward the beach without a backward glance.
“Where are you going?” I demanded, scrambling after him.
“Don’t follow me.”
“Kona! Stop! Please. Where are you going?” I grabbed on to his arm, but he shook me off.
“I need to be alone for a while, Tempest.”
“We can work this out—”
He whirled to face me, even as he whipped his shirt over his head. “How can we work it out?” he demanded furiously. “You’re in love with someone else!”
“But I love you too! I do, Kona. I really do!”
He froze then, a stricken look on his face, and I realized I had confirmed all of his fears.
“I didn’t mean that,” I whispered.
“Yes, you did.”
And then he was running for the water, moving so quickly that his form blurred, blending into the darkness of the night.
Chapter 23
Three days later, I was still sitting by Moku’s bed, willing him to wake up. The minutes were creeping by slowly, and while part of me wanted them to speed up, to pass in a blur that kept me from thinking about the shambles my life was in, the other part of me was grateful. If time kept going slowly, it meant that Moku hadn’t been in a coma as long as it seemed. It meant that there was still a decent chance that he would wake up. We hadn’t reached the week mark yet—the doctors still talked about him opening his eyes as if it were a real possibility. But they visited less, showing up only once a day instead of two or three times like they had when I first got there.
The door opened and I didn’t bother to turn around, figuring it was the nurse coming to do her hourly check on Moku’s vitals. My dad had just left a few minutes before to take a walk, and I wasn’t expecting anyone else. Rio was still being an ass, refusing to talk to me or come to the hospital to see Moku while I was there.
“I brought you some lunch.”
I whirled at the sound of Mark’s voice, my powers once again going nuts at his proximily. He was standing by the door, a vanilla milk shake from In-N-Out Burger in one hand and a small bag in the other. It was the first time I’d seen him since he’d told me he loved me.
“I, umm, I’m not hungry.”
“You never are when you’re stressed. But you need to eat.” He pulled the rolling table over, set out a cheeseburger and fries. “I almost went for something healthy but figured this might tempt you more.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.” They weren’t the words I’d been meaning to say, but once they were out, I didn’t regret them.
He shook his head. “I was giving you time. You’ve got a lot going on right now.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon.”
“Moku will be fine, Tempest.”
“I know,” I said, just in case my little brother could hear me. But I wasn’t feeling very optimistic. I’d done everything I could think of to bring him around and nothing was working. I didn’t want to lose hope, but it was hard. I was terrified of losing him. Couldn’t imagine what the world would be like if I had to live in it, forever, without his sunny smile.
“Look at me,” Mark said, squatting down so I had no choice but to look into his eyes. “Repeat after me. Moku is going to wake up.”
“Mark—”
“Say it!”
I sighed. “Moku is going to wake up.”
“Wow, that was impressive. Could you try saying it like you mean it next time?”
“This is stupid.”
“No, it’s necessary. I think you need to remind yourself that someday soon this is all going to be just a bad memory. You and Moku will be back on the beach, swimming and trying to escape from imaginary sharks, and you won’t even remember how discouraged you feel right now.”
He took my hand, brushed his lips over the center of my palm, then curled my fingers inward. “Go ahead. Say it like you mean it.”
“Moku is going to be okay.”
“I can’t hear you.”
“Moku is going to be okay!”
He smiled. “One more time. So that it really sinks in.”
I practically shouted the words and was shocked at how good it felt to say them with such assurance. There was something about the total confidence in the statement, delivered so loudly, that gave me back the hope I had started to lose.