Cresting Waves
Iawoke the next morning of my own accord. Not from the sun streaming through the window, because I forgot to close the blinds. Not from Noodle and Marshmallow jumping on me. And not because of an alarm.
I awoke to absolutely nothing but silence. The blinds were closed, even though I didn’t remember doing so. The bedroom door was closed too, so the dogs couldn’t come in even if they wanted to.
And Reid was gone.
My eyes widened. He stayed. He hadn’t even hesitated when I asked. In an instant, he had pulled the covers back and slid in, wrapping his arms around me, and settling my head on his chest.
That was the last thing I remembered—the rhythmic beating of his heart lulling me to sleep as he gently stroked my hair.
He had whispered something as my eyes started to close, but I couldn’t remember what it was.
But he wasn’t here now. The side of the bed he slept on was empty, cold, as if he had been gone for a while. Did he spend the entire night, or did he just wait for me to fall asleep?
Rolling over, I checked the time on my phone, noticing it had been plugged in.
First, he changed the pillows. At some point, he must have closed the blinds, so the sun didn’t shine on my face this morning. And he charged my phone. I didn’t even remember leaving it on the nightstand to begin with.
It was nine in the morning. Well after the dogs demanded breakfast. I shot up, but then remembered Reid was home. Though I was being paid to take care of them, he would have dealt with them by now.
I took my time getting dressed. No amount of makeup was going to cover the mess that was my face. Everything was puffy, my eyes thankfully not bloodshot anymore, but the swelling had yet to go completely down. I splashed some cold water and dried it with a towel. My hair was a mess, since I slept with it wet, so I threw it into a low ponytail and grabbed a Covington Cove High baseball hat from my duffel bag before making my way out to the kitchen.
Noodle and Fluff greeted me, jumping off the couch and sliding their way across the wood floors. They were always crashing into each other when they skidded, which made me laugh.
That felt good—laughing. The two of them always made me happy. Maybe today I would take them for a long walk down the beach. They loved chasing the waves and galloping in the sand. Fluff got all sorts of disgusting afterwards, but it was worth it.
The coffee maker was on, a mug left next to it. Reid, again.
But that wasn’t all. A plate of eggs and avocado toast sat beside the mug. And a bud vase with a single, bright yellow sunflower.
My favorite flower.
Alongside all of that was a handwritten note. I recognized Reid’s handwriting right away. Not that there was any question of who it was from.
M–
Hope you got some good rest. I’ll be in the library. Here for whatever you want to do today.
–R
It brought a smile to my face as I reached for the plate. I set it on the island, then got some creamer for the coffee and settled down to eat. I had no doubt he would still be in the library, but the hammering in my head demanded sustenance and caffeine first.
The hangover from a long night of crying was way worse than any other type.
Once I finished, I put my dishes away, refilled my coffee, and made my way down to the hall.
My heart pounded, not sure what I was going to find. Would things be awkward? Last night had been so… intimate. Like the old us.
But we weren’t the old us anymore. No matter how normal Reid tried to make things seem.
“Hey,” I said, leaning against the door frame and taking a sip of coffee. Reid turned, lowering the book in his hands to the table next to him.
His eyes softened, a half-smile appearing on his lips. I couldn’t tell if it was pity, sadness, or concern that crossed his features.
“Good morning,” he answered, gesturing for me to come inside. I took a seat on the chair opposite him, but didn’t put my mug down. It gave my hands something to do, something to focus on, so I didn’t freak out.
“Are you okay?” he asked, staring right at me.
I nodded. “Mostly, I guess.”
He didn’t say anything, leaving me to fill the silence.
“You said you’d be around for whatever today? Did you mean that?” I blurted out, feeling a bit ridiculous. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t.
“Absolutely. What do you want to do?”
“Figure out the next clue. But also maybe take the dogs for a walk on the beach. Do you… do you want to come?” I lifted the mug to my lips again, taking a small sip.
“Absolutely,” he repeated, putting his hands on his knees. “Back to the beach it is.”
I paused, my brows furrowing. “Back? What do you mean, back?” If he already took the dogs for a beach walk, then we could do something different.
But Reid just tilted his head and looked at me like he was the one confused. “I go for a run on the beach every morning. I thought you knew?”
So that’s why he was up so early taking showers. I hadn’t asked, and since so long had passed, I thought it would be weird if I did. Which, obviously, I was right; he assumed I knew what he was up to already. “Oh. No, I didn’t. You run every morning?”
He stood and shrugged. “Most of them, when I can. Running on the beach is a lot different than on the pavement at home, but a run is a run. Helps clear my head, you know? Sometimes I follow it with a weights workout, sometimes not.”
There it was. The confession of the muscles. Running plus weights apparently equaled a hard, toned, muscular body. I wasn’t mad about it, that was for sure.
“Well, we can do something else if you don’t—”
“Nope,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You want to walk on the beach, we’re going to the beach. I’ll get the leashes. You get the clue?”
Five minutes later, our toes dug into the sand, the dogs on their leashes in Reid’s hand.
“When did you start running every day?” I asked, feeling a bit like I was violating some sort of privacy agreement we both unintentionally entered on.
“When I got back home last year,” he admitted. The knife in my heart twisted. He meant after he left the island at the end of the summer. After we broke up. “Working out became an escape for me. I didn’t start intending to do it all the time, but it worked its way into being a habit, I guess. A way to get out of my own head.”
I remembered back a few years, to the first time we kept in contact outside of the summer.
That was when he told me that what happened on the island also happened at home. When Reid first came to Covington Cove, the Baysiders ostracized him for not being like them. He had been a newly rich kid, not a lifelong one, and had lived a completely different lifestyle from them. So they kicked him to the Gennies, where, thankfully, he was way happier.
But back at home, they did the opposite. His friends thought he was too good for them. He was a rich kid now, with a summer vacation home, parents that flew around the world for business at the drop of a hat. The kid who moved into a new, giant home on the other side of town.
His friends at home rejected him for being rich. The Baysiders rejected him for not being rich long enough. There was no middle ground for someone like Reid. He was alone.
“I’m glad you found something you like to do,” I said, trying to put a positive spin on it. “It’s definitely working for you, I’ll say that.”
My face turned beet red as I realized what I said. I just admitted to admiring his body, his newly acquired muscles.
But Reid laughed and thanked me. What he didn’t do was ask about Declan, or what happened last night. And I didn’t offer it, but I did say one thing.
“Want to hear something crazy?”
He nodded, looking over at me, his dark eyes full of curiosity.
“Grace and Sean saved me from the Declan thing yesterday. And Grace drove me back here, my bike in her pickup. But that’s not the craziest part.”
Reid just continued to stare, his brows rising with each sentence I made. He didn’t know Grace that well, just that she had been my best friend. To him, she was more Baysider than Gennie, even though she grew up a Gennie.
“She apologized. Said she got swept into the Bayside life and lost herself.”
“What did you say?” Reid asked, tugging on the dog’s leashes as we turned around to head back.
“Nothing yet,” I shrugged. “Didn’t really think about it too much last night.” I purposefully didn’t mention the connection I made between how Grace had acted and how I had with Declan.
“Well, that’s been a long time coming. I know you missed her a lot.”
He was right. I missed her something terrible. I wasn’t sure our relationship would ever be the same as it was, but I would love to have her back as a friend, at least.
“I wonder if she knows about the clues. If the Baysiders spread the news about it by now. I wasn’t really supposed to tell anyone, but…”
Reid stayed quiet, but I knew what he was thinking. Probably about how much he despised them, and that they were going to ruin everything for me.
Either that, or he was still stewing over the fact that I told Declan. That I ever associated with Declan in the first place.
But I was at peace with it. Whatever happened, happened. More than likely, the story about the seagulls would be the top gossip for a while, and my scavenger hunt of sorts would be forgotten.
We reached the house and Reid used an old towel left by the back door to wipe the wet sand off the dogs.
“What now?” he asked, looking up at me from a crouch.
I grabbed the envelope from my pocket and held it up.
“Clue two,” I said, wanting nothing more than for him to help me figure it out. “But first, candy.”