CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
Breck
I sit astride my surfboard, bobbing in the waves. The heat of the sun warms my face, my chest, my arms. I’ve sat on this board, with this view of the beach and the city beyond, more times than I can count, but something about today feels different.
Willow and I have been home for almost seven weeks, but with the little progress I’ve made it feels like no time has passed. I’m still sleeping in the guest room. I’m still just as unsure of what I want to do here—build another business, find a new company to work for… I was fortunate to have the Adventure Chasers money to live off these past five months, but I can’t continue on this way. I want to feel the way I did in Tahoe, like I was doing something useful and productive. Like I was wanted and worthy.
A wave lifts me, but I don’t paddle to catch it, letting it pass me by. I’ve been out here nearly every day since we got back. I thought the quiet and the serenity of the ocean would bring me answers, help me find my center again, but I continue to feel off-kilter.
The truth is, I don’t need help finding my center. I know where it is, and it’s not in Sydney. It’s not even in this hemisphere.
It’s in Tahoe, with Rory.
Beyond a few business-related emails—that felt too formal, foreign even—and the postcard she sent to Willow a couple weeks back, we haven’t talked. That was easier initially. I thought it would help us both move on with our separate lives, but the longer our silence stretches, the harder it is. I don’t want to accept that our lives are meant to be separate. It doesn’t feel right.
Another wave lifts me, and this time, I let my instincts take over. I dig in, using my arms to paddle and catch up. I’m a little behind it now, but I want it and I’m not going to let this one pass me by. I stretch every muscle of my arms to their limit until I’m right at the crest. I push against the board to jump to my feet, and when the water sprays across my body, it’s invigorating.
This is the most awake I’ve felt in weeks. Pumping my legs, I roller-coaster up and down the face. This is my wave. The one I was meant for today. With my thoughts on Rory and my body in this wave, they feel connected. This wave is the one, and maybe Rory was too. I fall back just enough to allow the tube to engulf me, surround me, until it spits me out and I ride the whitewater as far as it will take me. I’m unwilling to let this ride go…
Just like I keep wishing I hadn’t let Rory go.
I paddle into the shore until it’s shallow enough I can hop off my board and walk my way up to the beach. The crackling sound of the Velcro on my leash grits against my sensitive nerves. I lay the board down and find my space next to it. I don’t care that I’m covered in sand, instead reveling in the gritty texture against my skin. I press my hands in, letting it flow between my fingers.
I turn my head and envision Rory lying beside me, sand in her hair, freckles on sun-kissed cheeks. Would she love to surf? Would she give me a run for my money every day if she was here? The vision changes to the three of us in the snow, making snow angels, and how her hand brushed mine. The mountain is her wave, and she rides it with ease. I know she could take on the ocean, but Tahoe’s where she feels at home.
I felt at home there too. I grew up the same as her, on mountains with a board strapped to my feet. I just had to adapt to a different board, to the water, when I moved from the Perisher Valley to Sydney.
My eyes are closed against the sun and I attempt to quiet my brain. I could go back out, but I don’t want another wave today. I’m happy to go home with that as my final ride.
I roll over, the sand sticking to my skin as I move to get my board.
On the drive home, I nearly hit Rory’s name on my contact list a dozen times.
What am I so afraid of?
Pulling into the driveway, I decide I can at least shoot her a text—try to open that line of communication again.
Me
Hey
Been a while since we talked. Call me when you have time?
I take a deep breath, typing out one more because I’m tired of not saying what’s on my mind.
Me
I miss you.
I put my phone back into my pocket and head inside for a shower. I don’t get a response.
“Hey, Frank,” I greet the security guard sitting at the desk of Wes and Joss’s building.
“Mornin’, Mr. Kylie,” he says with a nod of his head and an almost-smile. I’ve learned you have to really work for a full smile from this man.
“I’ll keep asking you to call me Breck, but I know you’re going to just keep calling me Mr. Kylie,” I quip, and his lips tip up just a hint farther.
“You’re right about that. Visiting Mr. Anderson?”
“Yes, sir. Is Joss not here?”
“No, she left a while ago. Have a great day.”
“You too, Frank.”
I don’t bother knocking when I reach their apartment on the sixteenth floor, hollering, “Honey, I’m home,” as I enter.
There’s a bark of laughter from the balcony and Wes makes his way through the open glass door, wrapping me in a hug. Watching him work through the trauma of his crash, the PTSD associated with it and all that came after, was an inspiration. It’s part of what’s kept me going these last five months when things felt so hard.
It’s not lost on me that we both had Rory to help us get through the hard times in our lives, and that we had each other too. Wes found Joss, and look where they are now. I had Rory, and it makes my heart constrict thinking of where she and I are now. Seven thousand miles separate us, but there’s more than oceans spanning between where we were when I left and where we are today.
“Joss left pretty early?” I ask.
“She had a couple errands to run before picking Willow up at school. I’m thinking we order pizzas and just hang out tonight, sound good?” Wes says but there’s a twinkle in his eye, mischievousness in his smile.
“Yeah, sure,” I say, skepticism dripping from my tone. “What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” he says too quickly before pulling open the fridge. “Want a beer?”
“A cold one sounds good. Thanks.”
“Balcony?” He nods toward the door and offers one to me.
“Yeah.” I grab it and follow him out. “How was your trip? Do you leave again soon?”
He takes a long swig of the beer, resting his head on the back of the white wicker chair. “It was good, long. Joss and I are actually taking the next few weeks off.”
I snap my head toward him. “Really? Why?” I wrack my brain for a reason they’d be taking vacation time in April.
He shrugs, trying to hide a smile by taking another drink. Yeah, he’s definitely being weird.
“Y’all have anything planned? Another surf trip or something?”
“No, just spending time around here. We’ve been working nonstop since the honeymoon.” He pierces me with his ocean blue eyes. “What about you? Anything planned for the next couple weeks?”
I scoff into my beer. “Ha. No.”
“Still haven’t had any epiphanies about what you want to do for work, huh?”
“No. Well, I have lots of ideas. Unfortunately, they’re all for Rory and Willow Tree Elopements, which doesn’t do me much good.”
He perks up at this. “Ideas for Rory, huh? Have you shared them with her?”
“Not yet.” I let my head tip back now, closing my eyes. “We haven’t been talking much. I know she’s busy, and I don’t want to bug her.”
“I know she wouldn’t mind.”
I nod and sip my beer. “I know but… I… We…” I’m stuttering, rambling.
“You… what?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Are trying to figure out how to be apart after you let your lives intertwine more than you intended while you were in Tahoe?” he says, answering his own question.
“ What ?” I splutter.
“Breck. I know you. I know my sister. There was something there from the beginning. We could all see it, even at the wedding.”
I swallow thickly, prepared for him to get mad or yell. He doesn’t do either.
Instead, his face softens. “What do you want, Breck? Really want? Not what you think you should do, but what do you want ?”
The question stuns me, but my answer comes easily. “I want what’s best for Willow. She’s my priority.”
“Okay, of course, and what does that look like? What do you think is best for Willow right now?”
“I don’t know anymore. When Talia left, I felt like it was best for us both to take time away. To get some space, find ourselves together—just the two of us. Then we’d come back and rebuild the life we had here. I never planned to uproot her for so long. She’s struggling now, and that feels like it’s my fault.”
“What if the reason she’s struggling is because being here isn’t what’s best for her anymore?” His voice is a little sad, but there are other emotions laced under it that I can’t place. When he glances at his phone, a small smile tugs his lips up.
“I guess I’d need to figure out where would be best for her.”
“Yeah, and what about you? Where would be best for you ? Is it here?” He swipes a hand out, indicating the sprawling city around us. “You know I want you here. Always. I love you, man, but does Sydney feel like where you want to be, or are you just here because it’s where you think you should be?”
I shake my head. “Other than you and Joss, nothing about Sydney has felt like home since we’ve been back.”
“That’s what I thought. I’ve never seen you struggle to find your place. You fit in everywhere. You find a home with everyone. You can come up with some harebrained scheme at the drop of a hat. But you’re stuck.” He puts his beer down and stands up, moving to lean against the railing to face me.
I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and blow out a breath. Then I tell him the truth. “I miss Tahoe. I miss Rory. I want to talk to her all the time. When I wake up in the morning, when I go to bed at night, when Willow says something silly or cute or irritating. I want to talk to her all the time , and that scares the shit out of me.”
“That’s good.”
I chuckle darkly. “Really? That’s good? It’s good that I can’t stop thinking about your sister, the one who lives half a world away? The one who didn’t even text me back this morning when I finally broke down and told her I miss her?”
“You did?”
I push out of my seat and pace into the living room. “Yeah, I did, and she didn’t respond. So what does that tell you?”
“It tells me this is about to be a really good day,” Wes says, following me in.
“What?” My brows draw down, more than a little confused.
He doesn’t get a chance to respond before the apartment door opens and Joss walks in. She’s laughing, the sound mingling with Willow’s giggle, but it’s the third laugh that stops my heart in my chest.
Time freezes as Willow and Joss part and I see her. A mess of strawberry-blonde waves in a bun on top of her head. The freckles I was imagining just this morning spread across her nose and on her cheeks under turquoise eyes. Eyes that find mine and it’s like a defibrillator to my heart, bringing me back to life. Her smile starts small but grows until it overtakes her whole face.
“Daddy! Look who’s here!” Willow shouts and bounds toward me. “It’s Rory!”
“I see that, baby girl,” I say, still unable to pull my eyes away from the vision in front of me.
Rory’s face softens and her head tilts to the side, her smile turning from one of excitement to one that holds more. Emotions I’m afraid to put a name to. Emotions that mimic those I feel bubbling in my chest. I don’t know what she’s doing here, but the time and space between us feels like a rubber band that we stretched too far, and it finally snaps.
I stalk across the space, and when my lips meet hers, I feel like I’m finally home.