Chapter 28
WESTON
That sucked.
“And how does that feel?” the medic asks as she presses down on my ribs.
It fucking hurts.
I suck in a breath, wincing at the pressure and the way it spreads a flame throughout my body. “It's . . . mildly uncomfortable.”
“Mm-hmm.” She hums, unconvinced. She lowers my shirt, and I hear her riffling around beside the table she has me laid out on, though I can’t see it with the way I’m covering my face. “All right, I need to see your eyes.”
I groan, dropping my palms and cracking one eye open. The red top of the medical tent appears neon orange with the way the sun blazes overhead. I’m lying on an examination table inside as the medic sits on a stool beside me, craning over my body with a flashlight in her hand.
The crow’s-feet at the corners of her eyes widen when she smiles at me softly, a strand of mostly-gray hair falling out of her low bun when she drops her head over mine and holds the light to my face.
She shines it into each of my eyes, before nodding to herself and rolling to the end of the table and scribbling something down on a clipboard.
“Well, you’re not concussed, possibly a bruised—”
“He’s in here?” The rushed, distressed words filter in from just outside the medic tent.
Willow. She sounds so fucking scared.
Shame rains down on me in rivulets. I knew I shouldn’t have taken that swell. It was the idea that if I pulled it off, I’d undoubtedly move onto the semifinals, the taste of total victory so fucking potent, the vision of making her proud crystal clear—that’s what made me chase that wave.
Even after I free-fell down the face of it, was swallowed up by the tide, and tossed around beneath the barrel, I only saw her face. It’s what had me fighting past the fire in my chest and the ache in my limbs as I battled to the surface.
Though with each break into fresh air, I was immediately slammed with another wave, dragged into the depths again.
It wasn’t until a standby rescue team hauled me into a raft and took me back to shore that I became conscious enough to find awareness in my surroundings, and only now—at the sound of her voice—is the true weight of my stupid decision pressing down on me.
She bursts through the flap of the tent, my gaze immediately locked on her glistening blue eyes—red-rimmed and swollen with tears. She’s gulping in breaths as if the air itself is choking her.
“Wes.” Chest heaving, she holds a palm to it as she studies me, her face crumbling into a broken whimper, “You scared me.”
“My love.” I sit up on the table as she rushes into my arms, her tears soaking into my neck. “I’m so sorry, Willow.”
I hush her, pressing my lips into her wild, wind-whipped hair, cradling her against me. My ribs are fucking burning, but it would be far more painful to let her go right now.
Just as I lift my head, I find Leo following her through the tent, and that debilitating burn radiates far beyond my torso as his heated gaze sears through me—simmering with anger.
“You . . . were u—underwater . . .” Willow breathes between her tears. “For so long.”
“No. No.” I grasp her face, lifting her head so it’s level with mine. “I was coming up for air. I just had trouble finding my bearings. That’s all. I’m completely fine, love. I promise.”
“Actually, he’ll be quite sore for a few days, and may potentially experience whiplash or vertigo.
No concussion symptoms, though I’d get evaluated by a physician for possible bruising on the ribs, and any other contusions that may become more noticeable as the adrenaline wears off,” the medic explains, looking over her notes before directing her attention to me.
“You’re lucky you only got the wind knocked outta ya. ”
“You’re telling me,” Leo mutters.
“Are you his coach?” she asks. When Leo nods, the medic continues, “Like I said, he needs to see a doctor before he gets back on a board, but he’s good to go home today.
Doesn’t need a hospital visit. I’d recommend at least twenty-four hours of rest, then take him in and get him cleared.
” Her gaze darts to Willow and me, raising a brow. “No . . . rigorous activity.”
I avoid eye contact with Leo.
Willow bursts with a fractured laugh—the most hauntingly beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
She glances at me, those misty eyes now swimming with mischief, an amused smile spreading over her tear-stained cheeks. Suddenly, all my pain ceases. I’m healed.
I could drink her laugh. Bathe in her smile. If my heart stopped right now, all I’d need was the sound of her voice to defibrillate me.
I offer her a grin, though it doesn’t last long, because hers still appears broken. “I’m sorry, Wills. I shouldn’t have been so reckless, especially with you watching. I never should’ve scared you like that. I’ll be more careful. That was a stupid fucking decision.”
“At least you’re aware of it,” Leo murmurs, turning toward the exit flap of the tent. “Lessens the amount of lecturing I’ll be doing Monday morning. Let’s go.”
I blow out a long exhale, hissing as Willow helps me off the table. I may be bruised, but it’s minor. I’ve experienced broken ribs before, and this pain is nothing in comparison to that, though each inhale is met with a flare of discomfort.
I’m somewhat dizzy, but the kind that feels as if I’m merely treading water. The sensation when you’ve spent too much time out on the waves, or in a boat, and your legs sway with each step—convinced they’re not on even ground.
“Leo,” I call as he stalks ahead of us. “I’d prefer not to see anyone right now, if that’s all right? I feel bad that I had a disappointing performance today and—”
“Nobody is disappointed in you, Wes. Just worried,” Willow responds, looping her arm through mine as she peers up at me with sad, soft eyes.
“Don’t speak for everyone, Sugar,” her dad says, turning around. “I’m certainly disappointed, but she’s right about the rest of them. I told them to disperse, and we’d let them know how you’re doing later. Carter and Penelope are waiting for you, though.”
Willow sighs, resting her head against my shoulder as we make our way down the beach, finding Carter and Penelope near the pier. Penelope hugs me so tight it hurts, but I don’t tell her that—the guilt of causing her to worry is far more painful.
Carter’s eyes flash with concern, though he makes a joke about capturing my rag-doll on camera—to which Leo requests printed copies of. Carter then asks if I want to spend the weekend with them until I’m cleared for training.
Willow’s eyes flutter to me, and the pleading on her beautiful, devastated face is all the answer needed. I’m going wherever she goes. I politely decline, and Leo leaves Willow and me with the keys to Darby’s car.
“What do you want for dinner?” Willow asks softly as she merges onto the interstate that’ll take us back to Pacific Shores.
“I have chicken and vegetables at home.”
She scoffs before making a gagging noise. “No. Absolutely not.” She glances at me, frowning. “Don’t you have a comfort meal? Something you ate as a kid when you had a bad day or when you were sick? A favorite restaurant?”
“Not really. We didn’t have a lot of money so we didn’t eat out much, especially considering how well my mom could cook.
There was no point.” I shrug. “My mom made great meals with the resources she had, but we mostly ate what my dad demanded. And by the time I moved in with Carter and Penelope, I was so focused on surfing, I stuck to a meal plan. Then, well . . . I went to jail. When I was released, I was mainly focused on getting back on track so I could compete again.”
She releases a shuddered breath. “Well . . . is there any place you’ve ever wanted to try but never had the chance?”
“Eh. I guess I’ve always wondered what all the fuss with In-N-Out was about.”
“Excuse me?” she gasps, nearly swerving the car off the goddamn road. “You’ve never had In-N-Out? In your whole life? Where the hell were you born?”
“Never going to have the chance if you crash the car, Trouble.” I chuckle. “I was born in Long Beach.”
“Excuse my language, but what the fuck, Weston?” Willow flips on her blinker, merging into the exit lane. “That’s it. We’re going.”
“I’m still on a meal plan, love. I can’t fuck it up just because I surfed like shit today.”
“You did not,” she snaps. “You performed better than you have in your entire life. You made one, overly confident mistake that led to an injury and made you unable to complete the competition. And that sucks. But it does not diminish everything you accomplished before it. You deserve a fucking milkshake.”
I glance at her from the passenger seat, a grin spreading over my face as her brows furrow in concentration, her pert nose scrunched. Her eyes dart to mine, simmering with determination. I can only laugh, surrendering. “Okay, baby.”
“This is way too much food, Wills.” I stare down at the open boxes of burgers and fries spread across my bed, each with a different array of toppings.
“I didn’t know what you were going to like,” she says between bites of cheeseburger. “One of those is animal-style, the other is just a regular Double-Double.”
“What do these things mean?”
She snorts. “Double-Double is a burger with two patties. Animal-style means it has grilled onions and pickles.” Willow points to the fries. “That’s why I also got plain fries, cheese fries, and animal-style fries, with the grilled onions and spread.”
“Spread.” I gag. “Terrible name for sauce. And animal-style? I feel like I’m on a porn set.”
“Mmm.” She hums. “We could make it one later, if you want.”
My brows shoot up, right along with my cock.
The silk of her sultry laugh runs along my skin, eliciting flames along my flesh. “Weird names aside, it’s fucking good though.” She holds a white cup with red palm trees dotted along the top to my lips. “Neapolitan shake. Fucking good too.”