Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
I dunk my head into the sixty-three-degree water. Fuck, that’s cold as shit. We’re out the back—a term I learned as Xander was helping me paddle out past the crashing waves—with Old Yello’, his ten-foot bright-yellow log of a surfboard he promises anyone can stand up on.
It just so happens that surfers never rock up for a surf with a single board.
His mom had Old Yello’ strapped to the roof of her car just in case.
Scarlett had a spare swimsuit in the truck of her car for emergencies.
And one of dudes had some board shorts for Xander because you never know.
Everyone’s so helpful around here. Like one big happy family.
Not going to lie, do I feel uncomfortable wearing Scarlett’s swimsuit?
Yes. Is it the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn in the ocean?
Also yes. I don’t need to worry about a wardrobe malfunction wearing this.
Unlike the flimsy two-piece I have at home.
I rest my elbows on the board that floats between us, trying to get as much of my body out of the water as possible.
I look over at Xander, whose entire body is submerged in the ocean.
He’s just a floating head at this point.
His curls are sticking up every which way, on the account of the hair whip he did after dunking his own head that had no business being sexy.
Fat water beads drip down his face, making me look at his lips.
He’s so open and relaxed. There’s a softness about him that makes him so inviting, like being in the ocean is a big exhale for him. I’m the complete opposite right now. On edge. Tightly wound. Closed off.
“I can’t believe you grew up in the Valley and you’ve never been surfing,” he says, taking some salt water into his mouth and spitting it out.
“It’s fucking freezing,” I say as Xander’s eyes skim over my bare arms that are now flushed with goose pimples. From the water or Xander? No one will ever know.
“Get up on the board,” he says, swimming around, clearly unaffected by the cold. “I’ll hold it in position.”
I do as I’m told, climbing onto the surfboard that barely budges as I straddle it, my legs now the only body part in the water.
The sun immediately starts to warm up my skin.
I look up and see the shore ahead of me, with its sandy dunes and lush green vegetation.
Regardless of how many people are coming and going, out here, we don’t hear any of it.
It’s—dare I say it?—peaceful.
Another piece of the Xander puzzle attempts to fit in with what I think I know about him.
I look down at him, but he’s not looking at me. He’s got his eyes cast out to sea. Looking for a wave, no doubt. The way he’s holding the board, my left leg is caged in. I can’t help but notice how close he is to me as he holds the board steady like he promised. Holds me steady.
No time like the present to ruin it.
“So, your mom and your ex are close,” I say, trying to keep it casual. “Was that your hopes and dreams?” Smartass oozes from my voice.
He turns to look up at me. “Scarlett?” For a moment I think I’ve stumped him. But his eyes sparkle with amusement. “I was hoping for a civil breakup, so yeah, I suppose so.”
My brain glitches at this.
Civil breakup? That’s a thing?
When my mom found out my dad was cheating on her, she tore the fucking house down, declaring, “Sex ruins everything.” Then she did a 180 kick-flip declaring that they—my parents—were still “madly in love.” Then she cried so much I thought she was going to drown in her own tears.
And then Dad told me love was unrealistic and left.
So my mom became a sex therapist. And my dad stayed true to his word. Until now.
“The divorce wasn’t civil, was it?” Xander says, reading my mind. I hate this new development between us.
I smile through gritted teeth. No.
He lifts his hand off the board and squeezes my knee. I’m sorry.
“Why did you want to become a lawyer?” I say, changing the subject. Hopes and dreams.
“I feel sexy and powerful in a good suit,” he says, deadpan. I can’t help but laugh at this, and I’m grateful that he cut the somber mood with a joke.
“Come on,” I say, splashing him. “Be for real.” The water drips down his face, catching on his long eyelashes. He locks eyes with me and the fucking look on his face tells me everything that’s about to happen.
“No, I’m sorry,” I say, raising my hands up, but it’s too late. Xander pulls me in. I squeal as my body hits the water, a shockwave reverberating through every cell.
When I surface, I’m inches from Xander. Suddenly, I’m not so cold.
“Was that necessary?” I say, wiping the hair from my face. No fancy hair whip for this kook.
“You have to get used to falling if you want to stand,” he says, oh-so-wise. I feel the water whirl around my waist as his arms methodically move back and forth. “But I got you.”
That last line makes me squirm, so I ignore it. “The question, Miller.” I raise my eyebrows.
Xander kicks out on his back and creates a little distance between us.
“I love being my clients’ trusted adviser.
I love becoming a part of their lives. I love helping smooth the path forward,” he says.
It’s so simple yet so profound, my mind boggles.
Not because of the fat paycheck? Wait—are lawyers nice?
Do they not go around laughing that they got some murdering bitch off on a technicality, only to release her back on the streets for her to kill again?
“People tell me their deepest, darkest secrets. I not only keep them, I use them for good,” he says, turning onto his stomach and swimming back to me.
It’s so sincere I have no choice but to believe him, and it gets me wondering. If Xander is busy being everyone’s confidant, offering his shoulder for everyone to unload on, who does he have?
“That sounds like a blessing and also a burden,” I say, unable to keep my observations to myself. He pulls up right in front of me.
“How so?” he says, eyes roaming my face. This time, we stay exactly where we are. Close.
“Who do you spill your deepest, darkest secrets to?” I ask, a little quieter this time. The idea that Scarlett was once that person hits me. The idea that he’ll find someone else hits me harder. And the idea that I might want to be that person hits me so hard I feel sick. Sucker punched.
He breaks contact first, looking back out to the ocean like it has the answers, when he says sharply, “Get up.”
“What?” I say, confused by the change in tone and delivery.
“The board. Get on the board now,” he says, tearing his eyes off the horizon. They’re lit up. “There’s a wave coming.”
In a flurry of activity, I lay flat on the board and am instructed to paddle. And not stop paddling. Xander is out of view, in the water behind me, pushing me. I do as I’m told and paddle.
And paddle. And paddle. And paddle.
And just when I think surfing is actually paddling, I feel it. The pull. The surfboard catches the wave and I don’t have to paddle anymore.
“Stand up!” I hear Xander shout from behind me.
Here goes nothing. I press my arms into a push-up position, like Xander showed me on the beach, and I’m on my feet. Somehow, I’m on my feet and I’m fucking surfing.
Holy shit.
I can hear Xander cheering from behind me. And I look ahead and see Eva and Scar on the beach cheering too.
My mind clears. All the overthinking, gone. My past quietens down. My rules don’t matter.
In this moment, it’s just me and the wave.
Supporting me. Lifting me up. Carrying me.
It’s so liberating. And it’s all because of one man.
I turn around and throw my hands up at Xander to celebrate and immediately fall off.
A moment later, Xander pops up next to me. Did he just surf without a board? I don’t care.
“I did it!” I say, reaching both my hands up for a double high five.
“Yeah, you fucking did,” he says, high fiving me. “I knew you could.”
“That was the fucking best,” I say, jumping up and down on the spot until I jump directly onto Xander in a celebratory hug.
His hands slide under my thighs and I wrap my legs around his waist.
And then we just grin at each other until he cocks his head and says, “Want to go again?”
“Fuck yes,” I say. And somehow it feels like we’re talking about more than just riding another wave.
My heartbeat picks up at the implication until the moment is lost when he throws us directly into an oncoming wave.