Chapter Thirteen
Echo
A beach day with the Speed Demons is exactly as chaotic as it sounds.
There are too many people, at least three coolers, a barbecue already smoking, and a speaker loud enough to annoy everyone else on the beach without coming close to drowning out Revel.
A volleyball net is set up in the sand, and two jet skis sit near the shoreline, which feels like a horrible decision considering who’s all here and the amount of beer flowing, but hey, I never signed up to be anyone's babysitter.
The second I make it over the dune with my tote bag on my shoulder and an oversized Speed Demons shirt hanging over my bikini, I spot several problems at once.
Revel is fighting with a folding chair that refuses to stay open.
Reign is shouting instructions from beside the barbecue, despite making absolutely no move to help.
A few feet away, Sayshen, Talon, and Wolfe are crowded around the TV on the back deck, racing each other on MotoGP.
Sayshen is swearing Talon ran him off the track on purpose, Talon’s calling it clean racing with the straightest face imaginable, and Wolfe is laughing so hard he’s barely keeping his own bike upright.
So, a normal day with the team.
“Finally,” Bexley calls from her towel when she notices me. “We were about to send someone looking for you.”
I drop my bag beside the girls. “And ruin my dramatic entrance? Absolutely not.”
Cece lowers her sunglasses and looks me over. “Mami, the outfit is giving hot mechanic on her smoke break.”
I glance down at the oversized shirt hanging almost to the tops of my thighs. “That was the goal.”
Lena pats the towel beside her. “Sit. You missed a very important discussion.”
“That sounds suspicious.”
“We’re deciding how long the guys would survive if we dumped them on a deserted island.”
I lower myself onto the towel and glance toward the back deck, where Sayshen, Talon, and Wolfe are still yelling at the game. “Depends. Are we dropping them off as a team?”
“Obviously,” Cece says. “We need maximum chaos.”
“Talon would try to take control immediately,” Bexley says. “He’d have everyone assigned jobs before they even figured out where they were.”
“He’d absolutely boss everyone around,” I agree. “Whether they listened is a different story.”
Lena gestures toward the barbecue. “Reign and Sayshen would build the shelter.”
“Reign would give instructions,” Cece corrects. “Sayshen would actually build it.”
“Fair.” I glance at Sayshen. “Although he’d probably do something stupid like try to swim back to Bexley.”
Bexley sighs. “He would.”
“And then get eaten by a shark,” Cece adds.
“Definitely,” I say.
Bexley points at all of us. “You’re horrible.”
“But accurate,” Lena says.
“What about Wolfe?” Cece asks.
“He’d befriend the wildlife,” I say without hesitation. “By day three, he’d have a bird on his shoulder and some terrifying jungle cat following him around like a puppy.”
“And he’d forage,” Bexley adds. “He’d be the only one who actually knows which plants won’t kill them.”
Lena nods thoughtfully. “Draygon would hunt.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say. “He’d disappear into the trees with a knife and come back an hour later dragging dinner behind him without saying a word.”
Cece shudders. “Hot.”
“Concerning,” Bexley corrects.
“Both can be true.”
Lena glances toward Thorne. “Would he survive?”
I picture it for half a second and immediately start laughing. “Thorne would survive purely because the rest of them need entertainment.”
Cece’s already grinning. “Oh God.”
“He’d be frolicking across the beach in a loincloth, singing nineties hits at the top of his lungs while everyone else tries to build a signal fire.”
Bexley nearly chokes on her drink.
Lena folds forward, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. “A loincloth?”
“A tiny one,” Cece says between laughs. “And he’d act like he was headlining a concert.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Full choreography. Probably using a spear as a microphone.”
By the time we calm down, my stomach hurts.
Then Cece points toward Revel, who is still losing a fight with the folding chair.
“And him?”
We all watch as the chair collapses for what has to be the third time.
“Eaten first,” I say.
“Immediately,” Bexley agrees.
Lena wipes beneath her eyes. “By an animal?”
Cece takes a slow sip of her drink. “No. By the others.”
That sends us right back into hysterics.
Lena eventually passes me the sunscreen. “Can you get my shoulders?”
I squeeze some into my palm and start rubbing it over her back while the conversation turns into a very serious debate over which one of them would suggest eating Revel first and who would pretend to object before asking for seconds.
This part has somehow become one of my favorite things.
Sitting around with the girls. Talking shit. Laughing too loudly. Listening to gossip that has absolutely nothing to do with me and still being expected to give an opinion.
It’s easy with them.
They don’t ask questions that feel like traps or make me prove I deserve to be here. They just pulled me into the group like they collectively decided I looked unstable enough to fit in.
They weren’t wrong.
Bexley props herself up on one elbow and looks past me toward the water.
“So,” Cece says, dragging the word out. “Are we going to talk about it, or are we pretending all the sexual tension on this beach is coming from the humidity?”
I keep rubbing sunscreen across Lena’s shoulders. “I hate every single one of you.”
“That still isn’t a denial,” Bexley says.
Lena glances back at me. “We’re not judging, by the way.”
Cece lifts her drink toward me. “Judging? Mami, please. Three hot men are collectively losing their minds over you. I’m impressed.”
Bexley bumps her knee against mine. “Same. I mean, I’m sleeping with brothers. Your brothers to be exact. You’re safe here.”
Lena’s smile fades a little, and she looks down at her hands. “And I’m with my dead ex-boyfriend’s best friend.” The words come out quieter, like they still catch on the way up. “So trust me, I know complicated doesn’t mean wrong.”
Cece looks around at all of us. “Honestly, Echo. You might be the least concerning one here.”
“That feels insulting somehow.”
“It was meant with love.”
I laugh despite myself and hand the sunscreen back to Lena.
Bexley’s grin softens. “Seriously, though. You okay?”
I look toward the back deck, where the guys are still scattered around doing their thing, then back at the girls.
“Yeah. I mean, I’ve got some shit to figure out,” I admit. “A lot of it, probably. But I’m okay.”
“That’s fair,” Lena says.
Cece nods. “You don’t have to solve it today.”
“I know.” I pull my knees up and wrap my arms around them. “But thank you. For being so weirdly supportive about all of this.”
Bexley snorts. “Girl, look at our lives. Supportive is the only option we have left.”
“And mildly entertained,” Cece adds.
“Mostly entertained,” Lena says.
I shake my head, smiling. “Assholes.”
“Supportive cabronas,” Cece corrects, lifting her drink.
The girls laugh, and I do too, mostly because they’re ridiculous and partly because it feels good not to have to explain myself any further.
A few minutes later, Cece pushes to her feet and starts tugging off her cover-up. “Okay, enough feelings. I’m getting in the water.”
Bexley gathers her hair into a messy knot. “Same. I’m melting.”
Lena is already standing, brushing sand from the backs of her legs like she hasn’t been sitting ten feet from the ocean this whole time.
I stay where I am.
Bexley looks back. “You coming?”
“In a minute.”
Cece plants a hand on her hip. “Mami, that sounded fake as hell.”
“I just need a second.”
The three of them exchange one of those looks that somehow manages to be an entire conversation.
Bexley looks back at me. “You’ve got five minutes, or we’re coming back to drag your ass into the ocean.”
“Threatening.”
“I prefer supportive,” Lena says. “The ocean heals. It calms you down.” She points toward the water. “Trust me, you need it.”
Cece nods solemnly. “She’s right, mami. Five minutes.”
They head toward the water together, laughing as they go.
I settle back on my hands and look around.
The tide keeps sliding over the sand, music drifts from the speaker behind me, and the air smells like sunscreen, beer, salt, and whatever Reign is pretending not to burn on the barbecue.
There’s yelling near the shoreline, someone arguing over the volleyball score, and Revel loudly insisting he meant to fall off the jet ski.
It should feel like too much.
Instead, it feels good.
Loud. Ridiculous. A little chaotic.
But good.
The sand shifts beside me.
I glance over as Sayshen drops down, one knee raised with his arm resting over it. His sunglasses are shoved into his hair.
He watches Revel struggle with the jet ski for a second before speaking.
“You hiding from volleyball too?”
“I’m hiding from all organized team activities.”
“Smart.”
We sit there quietly for a minute.
It isn’t awkward.
Sayshen has gotten good at being around me without acting like every silence needs to be fixed. He doesn’t push unless he thinks it matters, and even then, he usually leaves me enough room to dodge.
Which is probably why I don’t tense right away when he says, “Can I ask you something?”
“That depends. Are you about to ruin beach day?”
“Hopefully not.”
“That sounded suspicious.”
A small smile pulls at his mouth, but it fades quickly.
“What was she like?”
I go still.
He doesn’t have to say her name.
I draw one knee toward my chest and wrap my arm around it, keeping my eyes on the water.
“She was complicated.”
“Helpful,” he says dryly.
A quiet laugh slips out of me. “Yeah, I know.”
Describing our mom is difficult.
I never know how to talk about her without sounding like I’m defending everything she did. But saying only the bad parts feels wrong too.
I don’t hate her.
Sometimes I wish I did. It would make losing her easier.
“She could be amazing,” I say. “When she was having a good day, she was funny and warm. She’d turn the music up too loud while she cooked and dance around the kitchen like someone was watching.”
Sayshen listens without interrupting.