CHAPTER 32
Dev
My stomach sinks when Willow’s face isn’t the first thing I see the next morning.
I’m alone in bed in the house next door to where she’s staying. It’s like we’re back at home instead of in matching Malibu rentals. The place is so quiet that I can hear the soft sound of crashing waves in the distance, but in another hour or so, the other guests will be up and rattling around. Though, considering how late the reception raged into the night, there’s a strong chance most of them won’t be up until noon.
Less than thrilled to be awake this early, I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling as my thoughts drift back to last night. Willow and I no longer have to keep our relationship a secret from our friends and family, and that thought alone fills me with more joy than I felt even when signing with Mascort yesterday. But I don’t want to take things too public yet. Not until she’s been working with Reid for a while. That should ensure that she escapes any damage to her reputation, because I don’t want anything overshadowing the career she’s building.
Eventually it’ll come out, of course. And when it does, I’ll be shouting from the rooftops how much I adore that girl.
Still, there’s a gaping pit in my stomach over how the unexpected conversation with Oakley went down. We were wrong to hide from him, I can see that now. But what’s done is done, and all I can do is hope that he’ll find it in his heart to forgive us.
I’d love for that day to come sooner rather than later. If I want that to happen, though, I’ll have to make an effort to repair things. Since he’s going back to Chicago at the end of the week, my timeline is limited, but there’s no way I can let him leave without at least attempting to get our friendship back on track. And since there’s no time like the present . . . I shove back the sheets and haul myself out of bed, determined to get this show on the road.
I pull on a pair of board shorts and tuck my wetsuit under my arm, then head out into the hall. I’m ready to barrel into Oakley’s room and demand he come down to the beach with me, but I stop short when I reach his open door. The bedroom is empty. The bed is made. There’s no sign of him.
I’m hit with a wave of disappointment that’s quickly followed by a surge of panic. Did he leave already? I know he at least came back last night, since I spotted him slinking into his room just as I made it up the stairs. But maybe he woke up even earlier than me, packed up his shit, and got the hell out of here. I wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Sighing, I turn away from the doorway and start for the stairs. I might as well let the waves pummel the anxiety out of me, even if I’d hoped to have company. If Oakley is gone, if he wants space, I can respect that. I’ll refrain from blowing up his phone or stalking him . . . for now. I’ll give him a day, but then there’ll be no escaping me.
The path down to the beach is deserted, and I almost regret not waking Chava or Mark and forcing them to surf with me when I see how perfect the waves are. But when I spot the figure sitting by the edge of the water, I know I made the right choice.
I toss my board down when I reach Oakley and plant my ass on the sand a foot away – close enough that we can talk, but far enough that I can dodge if he swings at me. Just because he didn’t last night doesn’t mean he won’t now without Willow here to protect me.
Neither of us speaks. I’m not sure what to say anyway. I’m sorry feels useless, and it won’t fix what I did. It doesn’t take back the hurt. And I don’t regret doing anything that led me to where I am with Willow, so what’s the point of saying the words if they’ll just ring hollow?
Oakley doesn’t look at me and I don’t look at him. We watch the waves, respective boards by our sides, but neither of us makes a move for the water. We might end up sitting here all day, but even if we do, it means something that he hasn’t gotten up and walked away from me.
‘I’m still pissed,’ he finally says.
It’s a simple statement but it makes the knife of guilt twist in my gut. ‘I know.’
There’s another long pause before he speaks again. ‘The more I thought about it,’ he goes on, ‘the angrier I got. You had so many opportunities to tell me how you felt about her. She did too. And yet you just . . . didn’t. Then I found out both Mark and Chava knew before me.’ He shakes his head, like he still can’t believe it. ‘I hate being blindsided by shit. If you’d told me right off the bat you were interested in her—’
‘What would you have done if I did?’ I interrupt, though I’m careful not to make it sound too accusatory. Oakley has to know he would have warned me off Willow, just like he did the night of his birthday. ‘What would you have done if I came to you and said, “Hey, man. I’m into your sister. Can I date her?”’
The way Oakley winces tells me everything I need to know. So does the way he dips his head and grips the back of his neck like he’s trying to ward off a headache.
‘Why would I have told you I was interested in her after you straight-up said to never try anything?’ I push on. ‘You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t want me anywhere near her.’
‘I didn’t have a problem with her working for you, did I?’ he shoots back.
‘Because you thought it was strictly professional,’ I counter. ‘And it was. At first.’
His shoulders slump even further. He knows I’m right, and he’s probably realizing that any arguments he might have are weak in the face of what I’m saying.
‘I didn’t know any of this was going to happen, Oak,’ I tell him, my voice soft enough that it’s almost lost in the roar of the breaking waves. ‘Willow didn’t either. We tried to keep it platonic, but the way we feel about each other . . . There was no ignoring it.’
He inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw working. ‘Do you love her?’
‘Yeah,’ I answer, not a single ounce of doubt in the word. ‘I do.’
More silence follows my confession. Beside me, Oakley is fighting with himself, obviously torn between wanting to be furious and wanting to let go of something he can’t change.
But nothing he says is going to make me want to break up with Willow. If his previous warning wasn’t enough to keep me away, he’s got to know that there isn’t a single threat that will work now.
‘Fuck,’ he finally exhales, dropping his hands from his neck and into the sand. ‘This is messy, Dev. You know that.’
I sure as shit do. But I’ve learned that life is better with a little chaos. Especially if that chaos has brought the warmest ray of sunshine with it.
I let the quiet linger, giving Oakley the time and space to get it all off his chest.
‘I guess I can’t blame you too much,’ he begins, and there’s a sheepish note to it. ‘I used to have a massive crush on Alisha.’
Used to.Okay. It’s obvious those feelings are still alive and well, even after watching her marry another man yesterday, but I won’t correct his wording. There’s a part of me that hurts for him, knowing how much it sucks to want someone you can’t have – or who doesn’t want you back. But he’ll survive the heartbreak, and one day find the person who’s meant for him.
‘Yeah, dude,’ I say, chuckling. ‘I know you did.’
‘We all knew you did,’ says another voice from behind us.
I turn to see Mark approaching, his own surfboard tucked under his arm.
Looks like we all had the same idea this morning. Minus Chava, who’s probably still nursing his hangover.
‘It’s smart that you never went after her,’ Mark continues as he drops down on Oakley’s other side. ‘Alisha never would have given you the time of day.’
Oakley scowls and kicks sand in Mark’s direction. ‘Man, fuck you,’ he grumbles. But then he twists his lips to the side in acceptance. ‘But . . . yeah. Would have been a waste of time.’
‘But a hilarious waste of time,’ I add, elbowing him in the ribs. ‘She would have eaten you alive.’
That pulls a scratchy laugh out of him. He quickly cuts it off, as if he doesn’t want to find something I’ve said funny. But it’s progress.
‘I’m guessing I interrupted a conversation about being into each other’s sisters,’ Mark says after a tense beat of quiet falls. ‘May I just state for the record that I have never once been interested in Alisha or Willow? Or any of Chava’s five sisters?’
I roll my eyes, and even though Oakley’s watching the waves crash onto the shore again, I can guarantee he does too. At least there’s one thing we can still agree on – Mark’s annoying sense of righteousness.
‘But anyway,’ he goes on. ‘Oak, I know you’re angry. Willow and Dev didn’t handle this the best they could have, but what else were they supposed to do? Wills had her reputation to worry about, and she was terrified that she’d drive us all apart. Did you know she still blames herself for destroying our group after what happened with Jeremy?’
The reminder makes me bristle, and, based on the way Oakley’s hands ball into fists on the sand, he’s unhappy with it too.
‘She and I had a long talk about it.’ Mark blows out a breath, glancing out at the water before turning back to us. ‘It was obvious how much she was struggling with how she felt.’
She spoke to Mark about her feelings? When did that happen? And what could he have said to make her want to run to me instead of away? He’s been critical of this situation from the beginning, though this speech right now is proving that’s changed.
‘She didn’t make the choice to be with Dev lightly,’ Mark says, his tone firm, leaving no room for Oakley to argue. ‘And I’ve seen how they are together. They make each other the best versions of themselves. You’d have to be a selfish asshole to not want them together.’
Well, that’s a direct dig if I’ve ever heard one.
Oakley’s scowl says he knows it too. ‘Yeah, all right,’ he grumbles. ‘Can we talk about something else now?’
‘Sure, like how much your dancing sucked last night?’ Mark supplies.
‘Excuse me? At least I know how to move on beat.’
‘You’re the one who nearly took out a crowd of aunties with your elbows.’
Oakley scoffs. ‘Oh yeah? I’ll show you what kind of damage I can do with my elbows. Come here, you son of a—’
‘Yeah, okay, no,’ I interrupt, reaching for Oakley so I can distract them from going after each other, but they’re already tussling.
Shaking my head, I pull my hand back and wait it out. At least it’s not me Oakley’s fighting with. I wouldn’t put it past Mark to have provoked him on purpose. I’ll have to thank him later for taking one for the team.
When they finally break apart, Oakley has a seashell stuck to his forehead and Mark has an angry red scratch down his shoulder from where Oakley got him with a piece of driftwood, but they’re otherwise unscathed. And the general animosity has been turned down a notch as well.
‘Just like old times,’ Mark says, leaning back on his elbows and surveying Oakley and me. ‘Us fighting on the beach and Chava still passed out, missing all the fun.’
‘But he’ll have breakfast ready by the time we’re back,’ Oakley reminds us, plucking the seashell off his face. ‘Him failing out of culinary school was our gain.’
Mark leans around Oakley to shoot me a smirk. ‘And since it’s summer break, I’ll even let you eat French toast.’
I let out a relieved groan. ‘Oh, thank fuck.’
The tension between us cracks, and the old camaraderie falls back into place. It doesn’t mean that Oakley has forgiven me or moved past my misdeeds, but it’s evidence that we can work through it.
‘Come on, get your asses up,’ Mark says, climbing to his feet. ‘These waves are too good to just sit and look at.’
Following suit, I heave myself up and I test my luck, extending a hand to Oakley. I hold my breath as he scrutinizes it, because we both know it’s more than just an offer to help him up. It’s an olive branch. A peace offering. A question – will we be okay?
When another second ticks by and he doesn’t make a move, I nearly start to sweat. But then he slaps his palm against mine.
‘I still hate you,’ he says once I’ve pulled him to his feet. ‘But I get it. I don’t have to like it, but I get it. And it doesn’t change anything between us, all right?’
‘Except you hating me,’ I point out, but I’m grinning.
‘That’s nothing new, man.’ He slaps my shoulder and pushes around me. ‘I’ll get over it. Like always.’
I’m sure he will. We just have to see how long it’s going to take.
——
I’m bruised and battered by the time I make my way back toward the houses. As I climb up the pathway, I spot my mom on the patio sipping her morning cup of coffee. She raises a hand to beckon me over, and I don’t dare ignore it.
Like an exhausted kid, I drop in front of her legs and lean back against her shins. My wet, sandy hair falls into her lap, yet she doesn’t complain. No, like the incredible mother she is, she runs her fingers through the strands.
‘You look like you lost a fight,’ she says warmly. ‘I take it the ocean won?’
With a snort, I close my eyes and let her massage my scalp. It really is like childhood all over again. ‘I let her win.’
‘Smart boy.’ She hums, and I hear the clink of her coffee cup on the table before she speaks again. ‘Is everything okay with you and Oakley now?’
I freeze under her hand. The question is far too innocent, like she’s playing it off as if she doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. But she does. She always does.
After a beat, I tilt my head back to look at her, but her expression gives nothing away. ‘Is that your way of asking if he’s okay with Willow and me dating?’
The corner of her mouth quirks up a little, but it’s the sparkle in her eyes that gives her away. ‘Maybe.’
I groan as I sit up and pull back, turning to glare at her. It’s weak, though. ‘So you know?’
‘Oh, beta.’ The full smile spreads across her face. ‘I’ve had my suspicions, but I knew for sure when I saw you sneak into her house last week. You’re lucky you didn’t fall off that trellis, you bad boy.’
My jaw goes slack. ‘You saw that?’
She scoffs and circles her wrist. ‘I see everything.’
Yeah, no shit.
‘I’m happy for you,’ she says gently, touching my cheek. ‘I’ve always liked her. And she’s always liked you. Glad you finally noticed.’
I exhale a laugh, still embarrassed by how oblivious I was.
‘How are you going to handle that relationship?’ she continues. ‘Is Willow going back to New York? I know her contract with you is up.’
My heart lifts a little at her question. Because Willow won’t be leaving. I get to keep her near me, and she gets to keep following her dreams.
I take a deep breath. ‘About that . . .’