8. Miles
MILES
I don’t even know why that came out of my mouth.
Maybe it’s because I haven’t been surfing since I met Jenna.
Maybe it’s the warm air that makes me nostalgic for summer.
Suddenly, I can’t wait to get back in the water.
The ocean in New Jersey is often still very warm in October, but when Jenna hesitates, I quickly add, “I have a wet suit that will fit you.” I can’t hide the hope on my face or the rasp in my voice, and I’m sure she notices.
“Okay.” Jenna shrugs, chewing on her lip. “Yeah. Why not? I’m a strong swimmer—how hard could it be?” But she sounds like she’s trying to convince herself.
I nod and walk toward my closet, rummaging through the back for Erin’s old wet suit.
It should definitely fit Jenna, but I debate whether to tell her whose it is.
In the end, it’s better to be honest—what do I have to hide?
Finally, I find it and turn around so she can see.
I clear my throat. “This was my ex-wife’s.
She left it here when things…well, you know.
” I scratch my chin and look down at the floor.
Jenna’s grin falters and she licks her lips.. “I get it. It’s fine.” She shifts, looking away from me. “I, um… I don’t have a bathing suit to wear under it, though.” She scrunches up her nose as she meets my eyes.
I meet her gaze and then stifle a chuckle so she doesn’t feel silly. “You don’t need one,” I tell her, my mouth twitching with amusement.
“I don’t?” she asks, furrowing her brow. “But I thought…” She pauses. “I’m just naked under it?” Her cheeks turn a shade of pink that does something to my insides. She fiddles with her hands.
“Yep. Naked underneath.” I exhale, a low whistle escaping. I turn away from her so as not to embarrass her further. And to clear the visual permeating my mind. Jenna. Naked. Under a tight-fitting wet suit. Fuck.
“Okay.” Jenna nods. “I’ll go get changed.” She strides over, taking the wet suit from me, and heads right for the bathroom.
“Yep. I’ll do the same,” I say, but she doesn’t hear me. God I’m fucked. It’s maybe the first time in my life that I actually hope the ocean is cold.
After stopping for a slice of pizza, it’s nearly two o’clock.
I take Jenna down to The Cove. It’s the perfect spot for beginners and often quieter than some of the other surfing beaches.
This is the beach I have surfed all my life, and it’s also the spot where my life was saved when I was fifteen.
I don’t tell Jenna—I don’t want to freak her out before she’s even in the water.
But this place has always been special to me.
Year after year, summer after summer, The Cove remains.
The same surfers and families show up, hang out, trade boards, and teach the youngins’ how it’s done.
It’s where I learned to surf and it’s the perfect spot to teach Jenna.
I pull into the small parking lot and kill the engine, turning to face her. “You ready?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
Jenna wipes her palms on her thighs and meets my gaze, exhaling slowly. “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”
“Hey, it’s not too crowded,” I point out.
It’s midweek in October so it’s exactly what I expected.
Usually, the same regulars surf before or after work and that’s about it.
Cape May isn’t known for its surfing, so the surf community appreciates any waves we can get.
I gesture out the windshield at the small waves breaking on shore.
“It’s actually pretty flat today. Perfect for learning. ”
Jenna nods, but she doesn’t look any more confident. She chews on her lip, making no move to get out of the car.
“You said you’re a strong swimmer, right?” I ask, giving her an encouraging smile.
She nods. “Yes. I took swim lessons for all of my childhood, then I was on swim teams in my teens. My dad was an elite college swimmer.” She swallows hard. “Okay, let’s do it,” she says, throwing open her car door. “It’s now or never.” She shoots me a tentative smile.
“You’ll be fine,” I promise, following her lead and taking down my seven-foot longboard off the roof rack.
“I hope you’re right.”
Once we’re down on the sand, I start with the absolute basics. I lay the board flat and crouch down next to it, pulling out my wax stick and rubbing it on the board’s surface.
“What’s that for?” Jenna asks, kneeling next to me.
“This is wax. It keeps the board from getting too slippery, so you have traction.” I glance over at her.
Jenna takes in a shaky breath. “Okay. That’s good. I don’t want to fall, if I can help it,” she admits.
I push my lips together thoughtfully, resting my hand on hers. I’m really going out on a limb here, but she doesn’t pull away. I will my heart to stop racing. “Jenna,” I say slowly, “You will probably fall. But when you do, I’ll be right there to help you up.”
Her lips press into a tight smile and she nods. “Okay. I can do hard things,” she breathes, nodding as if trying to convince herself.
“You can,” I agree, handing her the wax stick. “Here. Help me wax.”
She takes it and starts rubbing it on the board, but not firmly enough. I put my hand on top of hers and she looks my way. “Can we do it together?” I ask, my voice catching ever so slightly. She can probably tell I’m nervous.
Jenna grins. “Show me how it’s done,” she murmurs and my stomach drops.
Together we make wider, firmer circular motions.
I ignore the tingling in my palm from where our hands touch.
Jenna’s breath catches, and I can’t be sure if it’s nerves about surfing or if, like me, she’s affected by our closeness.
I don’t get a chance to find out. As soon as the board is waxed and I pull my hand away, we’re interrupted.
“Jenna Rossi, is that you?” A surfer shielding his eyes and emerging from the water with his board shorts and rash guard plastered to him calls out.
We look up at the same time. Jake Walker—Jenna’s cousin whom she hasn’t seen in years—walks toward us, dripping wet. He drops his board at his side.
“Holy shit, Jake!” Jenna shrieks, jumping up and throwing her arms around her cousin. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jake laughs. “I can safely say you are the last person I expected to see here.” He pats her back and pulls away, looking her over. “What are you doing here?”
Jenna turns back to me, smiling. “Miles is teaching me to surf.”
I wait for Jake to recognize my face and when he does, he gives me a nod, holding out his hand. “What's up, man? Don’t you go to my gym?”
“The Local Fitness on 9?” I shake his hand.
“Yeah. So, how do you know my cousin?” He squints at me, and I can’t tell if he’s feeling protective or curious.
Jenna interrupts. “He’s the property manager of my house that I didn’t know was still in the family until last week.” Jenna huffs out a breath.
“No shit,” Jake says, scratching his head. “Oh—hey, I’m really sorry about your mom.” He gives her a grim smile.
Jenna blinks rapidly and folds her arms over her chest, like she’s trying to comfort herself.
It looks to me like she may be fighting back tears.
“Thanks. I miss her so much.” Her voice is thin and her jaw trembles as she gives a small shake of her head.
She is clearly eager to change the subject.
I guess when you’re estranged from your family, they don’t attend your mother’s funeral.
The thought tugs at my heartstrings. Who did Jenna lean on at her mom’s funeral?
Jake must sense the awkwardness because he gestures toward the water. “Well, these are perfect baby waves for learning,” he says.
“That’s what I told her,” I add quietly. Jenna glances my way, something like relief flickering in her eyes—as if Jake’s confirmation steadied her first-timer worries.
Jake shoots me a look, reaches for Jenna’s shoulder, and cocks his head. “How long are you here for? Let’s catch up.”
Jenna sucks in a breath and nods. “A while. My number is still the same.”
“Cool. Well, it was great seeing you.” Jake wraps Jenna in what looks like an awkward obligatory hug. He turns to leave, then glances back, pointing two fingers at me with a sly smirk and a wink. It’s like he is daring me to do with Jenna what everyone seems to think I always do.
I know that look—I’ve seen it often—like people assume my bedroom has a revolving door and I’m always looking to add a name to my list. The list isn’t as long as they think.
I like dating but I don’t sleep with every woman I take out.
Regardless, the gossip mill spreads. I usually let it roll off my shoulders—let people talk.
But for some reason, it matters to me if Jenna thinks that too.
“Miles,” he says with a smug salute.
I hold up my hand in a wave. “Later,” I call.
And then, we’re alone again at last.