“It was Luka?” Kai said, his tone flat, unsurprised.
She jerked her gaze to him, not shocked when Kona’s grip on her arm tightened. There was probably make-up clotted under her eyes and tracked in a black line down her face. The tears would not stop.
“Was it?” Kai asked, his voice softer. When she nodded, he slumped against the chair. “You didn’t tell me.”
“I didn’t tell anyone,” she said, giving his words back to him.
“Gia…” Kona said, moving his hand from her arm to her wrist. “Tell me…I don’t…you and Lu?”
She had never let him go. She kept that fracture splinted, wrapped so tightly that there was never any regrowth. Gia had made a point to never speak his name because what she lost was hers alone. Luka Hale had been for her and never had anyone shared in that.
Until now.
Until Kona.
She watched this big giant, his eyes wide and searching, his touch tightening like she had a secret to unearth that would give back part of his brother. She alone could unmask something he thought he’d never have again. It was only then that Gia realized Kona had likely thought what he lost was his alone too.
“I…oh, God, Kona, I loved him. And he loved me.” He moved his head, a frown working to pull down his mouth and she knew he’d argue. He’d likely tell her what he had years before—Luka didn’t love anyone but himself. Gia wouldn’t let Kona take that from her. “The night he…when Keira called him? To go and get you…” Kona nodded and that grip on her wrist got even tighter. “He was with me. We didn’t want to tell anyone…”
“The flying pig,” Kona said, eyes wide now, his face going pale. “Kuku sent it to you?”
The dam that had set and settled inside her, laid high, built to never break, toppled like a tsunami had thrown it apart. Gia crumpled, dropping her face into her hands, tears streaming as Kona caught her, letting her use his massive shoulders, take his solid comfort as she sobbed.
“He did love you, hoaloha,” he told her. “My kuku promised me…he told me Luka didn’t die not knowing…he said he loved someone. He told me about the pig. Ah…G…I had no idea it was you.” Kona kissed the top of her head, patting her arm. “I’m glad. I’m glad you loved him too.”
“I’ve…never loved anyone like…oh, God, Kona…I loved him so much.”
It was several long minutes that Gia rested against Kona’s shoulder, letting that giant man hold her, telling her in soft, muttered whispers how happy he was that his brother had known love and how grateful he was that Luka had given it in return. They seemed stuck in their own space, locked in the past, lost to everyone but the memory of the man they both loved so fiercely.
“Mr. Hale, you have a message,” the waitress interrupted, her voice low, her manner apologetic, as she passed Gia a napkin, offering her a sheepish smile. “Mr. Pukui,” she nodded to where Kai had been sitting. “He asked me to give you this.”
Gia looked up, her stomach twisting with dread when she realized only she and Kona sat together at the table.
“Shit,” Gia said, hurrying to dry her face. She stood, grabbing her purse, ready to go after him but stopped when Kona called her name.
“He left,” he said, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “And it doesn’t look like he’s coming back.”
Kona handed Gia the note the waitress had given him and frowned, feeling the weight of something heavy tucked between the folded page. She opened it, falling into her seat when she spotted Luka’s black obsidian pendant.
“I gave it to him when he was a kid,” Kona explained, leaning forward, one hand scrubbing over his face. “I was so…fucked up still and he needed…something. He needed some sort of guidance. I told him Luka always wore that because it had taken bravery for him to get it. Kai said when he needed to be strong, he’d wear it.”
Gia shook her head, looping the leather strap between her fingers. “He…wore it, the day I met him.”
“That makes since. He’d need to be strong to meet you.”
But she didn’t agree. If anyone needed strength now, it was Gia. She looked down at Kai’s note, her eyes burning as she read his scribbled words.