Chapter Twelve
Rowan watched Leilani walk into the shop with Brie.
Usually, they came to see Tino about a board issue, or bought stuff without staying to chat.
Things had been strained since Rowan decided she wanted nothing to do with surfing or the circuit.
After her last conversation with Lea, she figured they weren’t on great terms. Brie was enjoying shaved ice as she propped a hip against the door and nodded, board tucked beside her.
They’d obviously had a hard session with the waves today.
A bruise marred Brie’s cheek and her usually tight braids were frayed.
Lea seemed distracted. Rowan ignored the stab of envy, starved for an A-frame wave to ride and the animated dialogue afterward.
Once, that had been her whole life. She hated how much she still missed it.
Lea dropped her board bag. Her skin held a flush. Her hand was scraped, probably from a tube ride. Lea always had a weak spot with those.
Leilani’s grin cracked the tension. “You going to ignore me?” she asked, unapologetic. “Or you going to say hi like a human person?”
Rowan rolled her eyes, mouth tugging. “Hello, human person.”
Leilani blew out a breath. “You look good. Less tired.”
“I live a glamorous life. Running a shop with a rabbit.”
Bagel sensed he was being talked about and bounced out to investigate. He twitched an ear at Lea and Brie in acknowledgment, then went back to his snacks. Lea chuckled. “Same old Bagel. He never liked me much.”
“Doesn’t like anyone.” Rowan thought of Kelsey, though, and the way he’d adopted her like his own. A smile scratched the surface. “What’s up?”
“A few friends are meeting later on. Gonna catch some waves, hang out.” Her gaze lasered in and settled. “I want you to come.”
It had been a year. A year of burrowing in, staying home, and avoiding everyone. She’d practically disappeared in the surfing world, until they all stopped looking for her. “Why are you asking?” she asked. “Why now?”
Brie spoke up from behind. “We saw you with the haole.”
Rowan nodded. She figured the gossip would start once someone caught her with Kelsey. She guessed Tino added to it. The man spoke less frequently than others, but he loved a good drama. “I was once a haole,” she said mildly.
Lea scoffed. “You came from California and lived in the water. You were one of us the moment we saw you on a board.”
“I’m still not Hawaiian.”
“Didn’t matter.” Lea’s mouth turned. “I remember the first time I saw you out there. You sliced through the waves on a mission. No fear, just respect. No one can truly teach you that—it’s gotta be in your DNA.”
“My dad,” she said. The image of him on a board, teaching her about the ocean, struck full force. But it brought a tinge of bittersweetness rather than sharp pain.
“Why the kook?” Brie’s question shot out.
Blue raspberry colored her lips. “You dump us completely for months. Refuse to get in the water or on a board no matter how hard we try. Then some city girl with money strolls in and suddenly, you’re back on a surfboard teaching. Is it the cash? Couldn’t say no?”
“Brie,” Lea said quietly. “I don’t think that’s it.”
Rowan ignored the impulse to snap back and tell them she was teaching for free.
Somehow, it might hurt them more, and Dad always counseled there was no need for defensiveness if she knew the truth.
For the first time in a while, she realized what her isolation had really done.
She’d hurt a lot of people along the way—people she’d assumed would eventually forget her and move on with their lives.
But friendship was stronger than she imagined.
Damn Lea. Why did she never give up?
But it was Brie who needed the answer. She was only seventeen. At that age, hurt was experienced in Technicolor. Brie was protective over Lea, even in the same breath as she competed against her fiercely. Rowan owed her the truth.
“She was watching you, Brie. When you were surfing. You should’ve seen her face—there was so much hunger not only to belong, but to try. She kept showing up at the shop. Took a beginner’s lesson at a hotel and the guy made her feel stupid and clumsy.”
Brie’s mouth tightened. No one liked a new surfer being instructed cruelly.
“I figured I’d show her how to stand on a board and she’d go away. But everything clicked and I saw it on her face. Lea saw it, too. She shows up every day and can’t wait to get in the water. It has nothing to do with the money. It’s like watching . . .”
“Joy,” Lea finished.
Their gazes met. She nodded. “Yeah.”
“Invite her,” Lea said. Brie rolled her eyes. “Seriously, why not?”
“Because she’s only thirteen and has a protective dad. He’d never let her.”
Lea’s brow arched. “The suit from the sunset party? The one you were talking with?”
“Yep.” She thought about last night and how they connected. Rowan doubted he’d come today. It was all easy promises before the hard reality took hold. She bet he got up this morning with a bursting schedule, and a surf lesson was at the bottom of his to-do list.
“Text him and see. We’ll take care of her.”
Brie grunted. “We don’t even know her. Why are you pushing?”
“Because I saw her face, too. If she has the hunger, we have a responsibility to feed it. I’m glad you’re teaching her, Rowan. Either way, come tonight. Everyone wants to see you.”
Lea had always been pushy. Rowan had always said no.
Why did it feel different this time? This stirring of curiosity to take the next step on the beach and see everyone again?
“Maybe.”
Lea grinned. “Best answer I’ve had in a while. See you tonight at six.”
“I didn’t say I’d—”
“Let’s go, Brie.” Without another word, they left the shop. Rowan muttered under her breath. Things were getting messy lately, and she wasn’t sure how to clean it up.
She tried to push the thoughts aside to focus on the upcoming lesson.
And wondered if Everett would be there.
He’d made a mistake.
Everett watched Kelsey and Rowan out in the surf.
His daughter’s hair was slicked back, with no care to how she looked.
Her brows creased with concentration when Rowan corrected or taught her something.
When she fell, she laughed instead of getting mad at herself.
Everett had seen her throw a tennis racket with frustration, or drop a sport after the first game because she hated it.
He felt like he was watching a different person.
But he shouldn’t be here.
He paced in the sand, half enjoying the sight of his daughter blooming, half worried about what he’d left behind. His brain kept running checklists. He’d delayed the progress meeting with New York. He’d walked away from a team who needed him to lead them past the finish line.
Instead, he was here on a beach.
His phone buzzed once. He ignored it.
Buzzed again.
Rowan looked back. “You can answer it.” Her voice was steady but crisp. “I’m not taking attendance and this isn’t a test.”
He shot her a look. “I said no phones.”
“You said you’d try. There’s a difference.”
He exhaled through his nose. “You’re very literal.”
“Occupational hazard, teaching beginners. We have to explain basic things.”
It was supposed to land as a joke. It didn’t.
The phone buzzed again, long and insistent. He finally pulled it out. The screen glared in the sun—three missed calls and a message from Jessica, flagged urgent.
Shit.
He stepped back from the surf and read the text.
Full team at site now. Matthew asking for you.
His thumb flew over the screen.
Be right there.
He swore quietly, already moving toward the car. He’d tried. He’d made a mistake. Kelsey and Rowan didn’t need him as an observer. He was needed to do the job he promised and he’d lost the vision.
The image of his father’s cold stare chilled him, even though he’d been dead five years. But the memory was worse than disappointment or anger. It reminded him if he didn’t do his job, he was nothing.
“Everything okay?” Rowan called after him.
“No,” he said. “Not even close.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re leaving?”
“I have to fix something.”
“You missed a call. Not a heart transplant.”
He spun around. The wind whipped some strands out of her topknot. Her nose was a shade too pink. Sunlight danced off the droplets on her bare skin. Why did this woman frustrate him, yet make his fingers itch to touch her? His temper flared. “You think this is about a call?”
“Pretty sure it is.”
He barked a laugh with no humor in it. “No, it’s about the thing that pays for my daughter’s education, and the roof over her head, and fancy dinners like the one you enjoyed the other night. It’s about the thing that keeps me sane.”
Rowan didn’t flinch, or snap back. “Funny, you look the opposite of sane right now.”
He felt like one of those old cartoon characters with smoke coming out of his head. How was she able to push his buttons with one comment? He opened his mouth to set her straight, but Kelsey’s shout carried from the water: “Dad! Did you see that?”
He hadn’t.
The truth hit him like a clean right hook. Sharp. Fast. And impossible to ignore.
He’d shown up anyway and still managed to miss it. This plan wasn’t working, splitting himself in two to please everyone. He needed to commit to the job, and Kelsey would be fine.
“Kels! I’m sorry, honey, I have to go back. You did great.”
She flicked the water off her face and gave a half-hearted smile. “I understand! Bye, Dad.” Without another look, she went back to the water and it was all forgotten. She was used to him leaving. And damned if that fact didn’t piss him off more.
He dragged a hand over his face. “I can’t do this,” he said, mostly to himself.
Rowan stepped closer. Was that a flash of sympathy in her green eyes or just the sunlight? “Do what? Be human?”
“Be distracted! Be irresponsible! I have responsibilities, Rowan. You have none.” He stopped, breath rough. “You make me forget mine.”
She jerked back and her face shut down. Everett could literally feel the wall between them, the wall that had been lowered during dinner and the hike, hinting at the possibility of more. Making him lose sleep while he thought about her. “That’s not on me, Mr. Hale.”
Oh, he hated when she called him that. Not once had his first name been uttered by her lips, making it almost a battle between them.
The fantasies he’d spun about kissing her and hearing his name whispered with need wafted away like smoke.
Everett stared at her for a few moments, their gazes locked in some battle where he still didn’t know the rules, and then he turned on his heel and strode up the beach.
Sand slipped in his shoes. His shirt stuck to his chest, damp with sweat.
Now he’d have to change and take up more time.
This was what happened when he let the wrong things in. When he let himself want more than control.
He started the engine, drove away, and didn’t look back.