Chapter 35 Sea Holly
sea holly
Where the salt meets the bloom. Where ache turns to joy.
We flop on the gritty shore, laughing, sobbing, wrapping one another in ferocious hugs.
Holly is safe.
Grandpa is safe.
Mum is safe.
Sara, Moana and whānau—safe.
“Thank Tangaroa you didn’t drown,” Moana says, breath hitching into a laugh in our shaky hug.
I nod, pulling back, gaze searching for—
“He’s there,” she murmurs, “the sea returned all that was lost.”
I rip the cord from my wrist and crawl over cats eyes and broken pāua.
Dried seaweed clings to my legs. Trent sits with his palms braced on his knees, head bowed to the sand, his back heaving great lungfuls of relief.
Grandpa is slumped, exhausted, beside him, patting his back, murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay. ”
He’s alive.
He came back.
I scrabble faster, sand flinging. He looks up and I lunge, throwing my arms around him. He catches me in surprise and we topple, him falling back onto the sand and a wet towel. I don’t care how many eyes turn to us; how public I make this truth. He’s always been the protector, always there for me.
But it’s my turn now.
He won’t be left behind in a lonely rockpool, waiting forever for the wave that left him to return. I’ll be that wave—the one to lift him up and bring him safely home.
Between shaky kisses, I murmur against his jaw. The feeling is too big. I press my mouth to his ear. There are no adequate words.
“I love you” is the closest thing.
Trent breaks on a sob at my neck, his arms tightening around me.