Chapter Three
“It’s going to be hot today. Better chill here. You can be lazy.”
Bagel didn’t agree, evidenced by his dismissal of her command. His ear swished with annoyance and his overlarge, bugged-out blue eyes stared back with an intensity that made everyone around him uncomfortable. He hopped to the door and waited.
Rowan sighed. “It’ll be a long day. I promised to help with the sunset party. You’ll hate it. Too many people.”
Silence. Bagel didn’t move and refused to break the gripping eye contact. Rowan still got thrown off by that soul-searching gaze, even though she’d adopted him over a year ago. He pushed his furry butt against the door to block it, then settled down.
“Fine! But I don’t want to deal with your drama if the air-conditioning isn’t good enough. And you have to behave or Tino won’t let me bring you anymore.”
Bagel knew it was a lie, because Tino loved his antics and called him a spirit animal. But Rowan kept a hard expression, as if she meant it. Bagel was the most stubborn creature in the world. It’d been ridiculous to think she’d be the boss in this relationship.
He refused to break the stillness. Not even a nose twitch. Damn, he’d be the perfect spy. Even torture wouldn’t break Bagel.
“Get in your crate.”
Now that he’d won the argument, the rabbit hopped over to the crate blinged out for his comfort and settled in. Rowan couldn’t help the smile that threatened as she grabbed a few of his snacks and the ice packs, making up a quick cooler.
Before Bagel, she’d never considered herself an animal lover.
She didn’t dislike them, but had never wanted one for herself.
After Dad passed, the grief had been crippling, the silent house a mockery of what had once been a dynamic, laughter-filled space.
For months, she tried to push on, but a bit of her slipped away with each day that went by.
A random Facebook post from the local SPCA had gotten into her feed.
Once she saw Bagel’s photo, she knew he was meant to be hers.
She’d marched to the rescue center, put in her application, and taken him home the next day.
The framed post was now on her wall as a reminder of riding out the times you want to give up.
Like surfing.
She buried the thought quickly. Rowan was getting better at ignoring the mess inside and keeping a clean house. It was good for survival, but her father’s whispered demands were beginning to get louder.
Don’t you dare let your mind beat you. That’s the ocean’s job.
If you don’t face the monsters, they grow bigger.
Rowan, when are you going to stop hiding from the world and your purpose?
The last one hurt the most. But she wasn’t up to losing another argument with an animal or a ghost.
The drive to the surf shop was short. Tino sat on the rickety porch, drinking from a chipped mug. He raised one hand. “Aloha.”
She smiled, waved back, and removed Bagel’s crate from her battered Jeep. “Brought your friend today.”
The older man’s creased face lit up. “Bagel! Things have been boring without you.”
Rowan grunted and walked to the porch. Crouching down, she freed Bagel, who quickly hopped over to Tino.
Plastering his chin against Tino’s sneakers, he rubbed back and forth in an attempt to imprint and mark his territory.
Rowan hadn’t expected such strange behaviors from rabbits, but Bagel had opened up a whole new world of weird. She loved all of it.
Tino patted the bunny, his big hand practically swallowing up Bagel’s furry head.
It was that firm gentleness that had made him the best surfboard shaper on the island.
Rowan considered him family. Tall and sturdy, with a surfer’s build softened by time and long days at the planer, he was known for his expertise at fixing a cracked board, or creating one to fit a surfer’s body, style, and personality.
His sun-browned skin, salt-and-pepper hair, and neat beard made him a local legend with both men and women.
Tino waved off the attention with his calloused, nicked hands.
He liked the simple life, focused on his work, the ocean, and his rotating girlfriends, who never asked for more than he could give.
His wardrobe was a revolving line of well-washed T-shirts spattered with tint, board shorts, and slippahs.
“What’s on the agenda today?” she asked.
Tino straightened and sipped his coffee. “Lea’s dropping off her board. Would be nice if you were here to greet her.”
Rowan stiffened. Tino’s voice was mild, but she caught the calm measure in his gaze.
The name of her friend and competitor dragged her back to the past and all she’d left there.
Lea was known as one of the best on the surf circuit.
Once, they’d surfed side by side, trying to outdo the other with sponsorships, big waves, and wins.
Until that day. Rowan always wondered how it would’ve turned out if she’d waited. Trusted the ocean to give her the right wave instead of chasing one for a victory that stripped her of everything. Seeing Lea was too painful. Her face reminded Rowan of regrets.
She forced a smile. “Sure.”
Tino shook his head. “Don’t lie to me, girl. It’s been a year. Soon you’ll need to decide whether you’re ready to live for today or be stuck in the past forever.”
Tino preferred silence to words, but when he spoke, they cut straight and true.
God, how could it have been only a year?
Sometimes, Rowan felt as if a lifetime had passed since she’d been that laughing, open woman with the world at her feet.
Her body ached like she’d spent a hard day riding the waves, but instead of a bone-deep satisfaction, there was only grief.
Her dad would never again be at her side, coaching and cheering her on.
The days of gathering at an overcrowded table to feed all their close friends had faded to only her.
Food was now sustenance instead of joy. Visitors had stopped trying because she refused to answer the door, too trapped in the loss of both her body and father.
Rowan had been trained to think of herself as strong. She’d been a woman with confidence and grit. Her reputation as a fierce warrior on the ocean was one she lorded over everyone, caught in her ego.
But now she realized she’d always been weak. It had taken only one good life slap to drive her to her knees.
“Rowan?”
Tino’s gentle question startled her out of the dark thoughts. “Yes, sorry. I’ll talk to her. I’m going to finish inventory—we need to order more materials.”
He allowed her a graceful exit. Bagel hopped behind, immediately heading toward his favorite corner behind the skin-care shelf. “Behave and don’t ruin anything today,” she admonished, setting up his crate with water and food.
Bagel mooned her, but his cute tail ruined the effect.
Rowan threw herself into spreadsheets, making sure Tino had what he needed for his workshop.
The morning unrolled slow and steady. The rhythmic scraping was her background music.
She dealt with local customers who were always enthusiastic, polite, but avoided her gaze.
No one mentioned surfing, sensing it was a topic still off-limits.
The stink of pity emanated from their auras, but Rowan couldn’t blame them.
She knew how some surfers looked at her now, like she was a ghost of what could go wrong out there, walking proof the ocean didn’t care how good you’d been.
She hadn’t done herself any favors seeking isolation or pretending she’d never had a life on a board.
Deciding to take her break, she grabbed her lunch—salad and ahi tuna—and sat at the picnic bench.
She surveyed the scene, taking in the strength of the waves, noting who surfed today, and registering the direction of the wind.
Brie and Chelsea were out again, joined by a few additional girls all hoping for a good ride.
She watched them for a while. Her knee throbbed, but Rowan knew it was probably phantom pain by now.
Rehab was no longer the problem, even though she pretended it was. Only she knew the real truth.
Her gaze snagged on the girl trudging over the sand, coming closer.
“Hi, again.” Her face was tinted pink, either from the sun or shyness. “Sorry if I’m bothering you. Just wanted to say hi.”
Rowan smiled. Something about this girl drew out her softer side.
Today, her bikini was turquoise with a trendy cover-up in sea-blue transparent gauze.
Her fingers clutched a Vera Bradley floral beach bag.
Bright red lips gave a tentative smile back.
She was so obviously out of place here, Rowan’s heart twinged. “Hey. How are you doing?”
“Good!” Her voice was overbright. “I figured I’d come back to check out more surfing. It’s the best beach for it.”
“Want to take a seat and keep me company?”
“Sure.” She sat down and dumped her bag.
Rowan caught eye shadow sparkling in the sun behind her sunglasses.
The girl needed someone to tell her she was wearing too much makeup, especially in the hot sun.
Poor thing had no idea it was melting on her face.
“Did you find out if you’re sponsoring anyone? For the contest?”
She thought back to the conversation with Brie yesterday. “Oh, yeah, Tino usually helps out some of the local girls trying to get their name known.”
“Is Tino the owner?”
Rowan nodded. “He creates and repairs surfboards.”
“Wow, that’s fire. Do you work with him?”
“Sometimes. Usually, he just drafts me for sanding and handling the store.”
“You mentioned you don’t surf anymore, right?”
Rowan focused on her lunch. “Yep. Got injured so I don’t do it anymore.”
“I’m sorry, Rowan.” The tentative tone was filled with genuine apology. “That totally sucks.”
“Yeah.” Oddly, she didn’t shut down immediately. “Hurt my knee a while ago.”
“Does that mean you can’t surf at all? Forever?”
“Just not competitively.” She changed the subject. “How’s your dad?”
“Fine. He’s working a lot. Trying to get a new hotel up.”