Chapter 6
WESTON
“The code to unlock the front door is zero-five-two-eight,” Leo fucking Graham says as he punches it in, and the gear-sound of the lock follows.
He’d appeared in the driveway not long after I pulled in, barefoot and wearing sweatpants.
He looked disheveled, honestly. His expression fell somewhere between I-just-woke-from-a-nap and I-just-found-out-my-cat-went-missing.
The smile on his face when he greeted me was incredibly forced. I’d know—I’m an expert in them myself.
Leo helped me grab my things before leading me through a gate that bridged the main house and the detached garage, down a concrete walkway and to the guesthouse that sits directly behind the garage, a smaller-scale replica of the main house.
A small front porch faces the cliffside, offering a perfect view of the Pacific in the distance.
I’m watching sunlight dance across the whitecaps when I hear Leo open the door behind me.
I follow him as he takes a few steps inside, turning to face me before extending an arm to his right.
“My wife stocked the fridge for you in accordance with the meal plan I’ll be putting you on.
She checked with Penelope that you don’t have any food sensitivities.
” There is a small kitchen tucked into the corner by the front door.
An island counter, with a range, sink, and fridge across from it.
“Make sure you thank her when I officially introduce you next week.”
“Of course.” I nod.
Leo sighs, and it sounds almost defeated. I have no idea what I’m doing wrong.
“Anyway,” he continues, spinning again and pointing to the closed door beside the kitchen.
“The bedroom is through there. Bathroom too. All of the linens are clean, and we have a washer and dryer in the garage you can use.” He motions toward the space opposite the kitchen, where a long couch is spread out beneath a window, and a television is mounted on the wall.
“This is the living room, obviously. The place is small, but it should do.”
“It’s great. I really appreciate it.”
He faces me, eyes sunken and exhausted, and though he’s looking at me, it almost feels as if I’m not here at all. He blinks, shaking his head quickly, as if ridding himself of some haunted thought, before he nods and steps past me. “Let’s get the rest of your things so you can settle in.”
I wordlessly turn to follow him when he stops with his hand on the doorknob.
“Oh, and I should let you know, something came up, and I’m not going to be available to begin training this week.
I’m sorry.” Leo steps onto the porch, and I shut the door behind me.
“I should’ve called earlier and given you the option to delay your move by a week, but I didn’t have the chance.
” He runs a hand through his hair, leaning against the porch railing.
“I do have an alternate coach who can start working with you Monday, and you and I will begin together the week after.”
Well, that confirms it. I really am a nuisance.
What the fuck am I actually doing here? I want to ask, but I keep my mouth closed, offering a simple nod.
“This weekend you can work in the garage. All my boards need to be cleaned and waxed.”
“Oh, is this like a Mr. Miyagi kind of thing?” I grin, attempting to pull a smile from him too.
“No.” He tilts his head, giving me a once-over with an unamused expression. “It’s a boards-need-maintenance-or-you-can’t-surf kind of thing.”
Cool. I’ll go fuck myself, then.
Leo pushes off the railing and descends the three porch steps, heading down the path that leads back to my truck and the front of the main house.
“Are there any rules I need to keep in mind while I’m staying here?” I call out, trailing behind him. “I don’t want to fuck up this opportunity, and I don’t want to impose on your life any more than I already am, but I need to be here. I need this. I’ll earn it.”
Thus far, being kind, quiet, and funny—and that Mr. Miyagi joke was funny, especially to an older person like him—hasn’t worked. I guess I’ll try being straightforward instead.
He stops so abruptly I nearly walk into him.
I stumble back as Leo spins to face me. For the first time since I met him a half hour ago, some kind of spark lights in his eyes.
He’s finally looking at me like I might hold some sort of value, like I’m actually a person standing in front of him, and not an apparition he’s trying to get away from.
“I watched your film. Watched the competition where you won your Youth Worlds title. You weren’t privy to it back then, but Carter and I had been in talks about you for a while.
I had plans for you before . . .” He swallows.
“I know you count swell periods. I know you have an eye for barrels, and you almost always choose the right one. I know you sure as fuck get up every time a wave knocks you down. You have the kind of born talent that can’t be taught, though you’ll be rusty.
Your form already needed work, your balance was off, and your agility is shit. ”
Ouch. But okay, at least we’re getting somewhere.
“Luckily for you, these are all buildable skills. What I need you to bring to the table is focus, determination, and patience. It’s going to take time to get where you want to be, and you’re only going to reach it if you’re giving this one hundred percent, okay?”
I nod rapidly.
“I need you to not fuck up again, either. No reckless, impulsive decisions.”
“Okay, so . . . rules are: show up and don’t fuck up?”
Leo lets out a rough laugh, shaking his head, but movement in my periphery catches my gaze and pulls my eyes from him. Something flashes across one of the upstairs windows in the main house.
Her silhouette fills the window, long hair swaying past her shoulders as her head is cast down, stacking a pile of books on the sill. The late afternoon sun filters over her, casting her in gold.
She lifts her head, and her eyes immediately fall on mine.
Blue. She’s all blue.
Even from this distance, even behind the window, they’re a blazing aquamarine, searing right through the center of my chest. I feel her gaze in my ribcage—warming me from the inside out.
I don't know what it means.
“Actually, I have three other rules . . .” Leo continues, but I only half hear him, I can’t look away from her.
The girl in the window. “Be on time, and I don’t just mean for training.
Your shifts at the shop too. Even if I’m asking you to wax boards in the garage or help my wife bring in groceries.
My time is valuable, and I’m spending a lot of it on you. ”
I nod absently.
Punctuality. Check.
I’m still watching her, because she’s watching me. Her hair drapes over her shoulder as she tilts her head, eyes narrowing as if she’s challenging me to look away first. I can’t, and I don’t know why. It’s fucking infuriating.
“Speaking of my wife—do not disrespect her. Ever. If she asks you for help with something, you do it. If you see her in the garden, you tell her that her flowers are pretty. If she offers you a meal, you eat it. I don’t care how bad it tastes.”
Nice to wife. I can do that.
Her lips tilt at the side before her tongue slips between them, swiping over her fuller bottom lip before they part slightly and her shoulders shake.
She rolls her eyes playfully, and I swear to God I can hear her laughing.
The sound doesn’t float through the closed window, but my ribcage echoes with it all the same.
“Weston.” The tone in his voice is stern enough to pull my gaze from the window. His head had turned too, looking in the same direction before he faced me again. “My third rule,” he continues, slowly raising one brow at me.
“Your third rule.” My eyes flash to her window again, but the curtains are now closed.
Something pinches the pit of my stomach. An unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling.
“My daughter is home for the summer. I wasn’t expecting her to be.” His voice is low and rough, pulling my focus back to him as Leo Graham looks in my eyes and says, “So, third rule: I need you to stay away from her.”
“Uh—” The word lodges in my throat. I open my mouth wider, attempting to say understood. But it’s just stuck there, refusing to leave my lips. Refusing to comply.
I swallow down my response, only capable of offering a nod.