Chapter 15
SUMMER
“Aunt Summer, he’s copying me!” River shrieked from her board, pointing at her brother with the kind of righteous fury only a seven-year-old could summon.
“I’m not copying you, I’m just doing it better,” Ocean said.
“You can’t do it better. You haven’t even stood up yet!”
“I’m about to.”
“You said that a long time ago.”
I paddled between them. “Ocean, stop talking and start doing. River, stop watching him and start watching the water. You’re looking for the right wave, not waiting for your brother to embarrass himself.”
Ocean was pretty good for his age. He’d been up twice already, both times for about three seconds before the wave won.
“You’re fighting it,” I told him.
“I can’t get it,” he pouted. “I’m not as good as you.”
“I wasn’t as good as you when I was nine. You’ll get the hang of it. Loosen up your body. Stop fighting it.”
He groaned.
“Loose,” I repeated. “Soft knees. Arms out like you’re going to catch something.”
He adjusted his posture. The kids wanted to surf. They loved it, but sometimes our lessons went a little long and they put up a fuss.
I glanced back toward the beach. Becca was exactly where I’d left her, stretched out on the lounger with her book tented on her chest. She looked completely relaxed. Capri was beside her with her legs oiled up and her sunglasses on. They had book covers on what I knew were very spicy covers.
My sister never let herself stop moving.
Even on a Sunday, she was doing laundry or making lists or reorganizing a cabinet that didn’t need reorganizing.
Watching her just lie there in the sun with her book was why I was keeping the kids out.
Just a little longer. She deserved to be completely at ease.
I turned my attention back to the kids straddling their boards.
“Guys ready?” I asked. “There’s a perfect wave coming in.”
Ocean immediately started paddling.
“Wait for it. Don’t paddle yet. Wait—now. Go.”
They both did their thing. River got up but Ocean faltered. She screamed with joy as she got her feet under her. I gave her a thumbs-up.
“Can I go?” Ocean asked.
“Pick your wave,” I said. “Don’t let me pick it for you.”
River was already off her board and grinning like she’d just conquered the world. We stayed out another fifteen minutes before we headed in.
I steered the kids toward Becca. She lowered her book when she heard us coming. Capri sat up and pulled her sunglasses down her nose.
“How were they?” Becca asked.
“They’re naturals,” I said.
I propped my board upright and reached for my water bottle. Lana was stretched out on Capri’s other side, still in her rash guard, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair.
“Hey,” I said. “Didn’t know you were coming.”
“Capri texted me,” Lana said. “It’s nice to have a beach day that doesn’t involve teaching or training.”
I sat down on my towel and grabbed a handful of grapes. The kids were eating their sandwiches and arguing about who was the better surfer.
“So,” Becca said. “Tomorrow.”
Lana held up her hand. “I’m going.”
“Obviously I’m going,” Capri said. “I made a sign last night. Our waves. Our home. Our call.”
Becca pointed at her. “That’s actually good.”
Becca looked at me. “Are you going?”
“I don’t know.”
Becca frowned. “Dad’s coming to watch the kids so we can go.”
“He doesn’t want us to go,” I reminded her.
He hadn’t told me not to go. But he hadn’t told me to go either. He said be careful, which was him giving us the option to make a choice.
“He’s worried,” I said.
“He’s always worried.”
“I want to get there early,” Capri said. “Before it gets crowded.”
I looked out at the water. The afternoon class would be arriving soon. A group of six, all adults, which was a different kind of exhausting than the kids. Adults were self-conscious. They overthought everything and apologized constantly for falling off their boards. And they were so much stiffer.
We stayed on the beach until Becca started collecting towels. “Let’s go, guys,” Becca said.
“I better get going to,” Capri said. “I have to work.”
“Me too,” Lana sighed.
“You doing okay?” I asked Lana.
“Better,” she said. “I’m still angry. But better.”
“One day at a time,” I told her.
She nodded and picked up her board. “See you tomorrow.”
I watched them all make their way up the beach. I lay back on my board, letting the sun hit my face. I had maybe twenty minutes before my adult class showed up. I closed my eyes.
I’d been lying there less than five minutes when I felt the shadow move over me and I knew it wasn’t a cloud. I opened my eyes to find Colt standing over me. Just watching.
“That’s a creepy habit,” I said.
“You close your eyes in public a lot.”
“Never been a problem before.”
“I stopped by your house,” he said.
“Oh good, you’re a full-service stalker.”
He smirked. “I came to apologize.”
I propped myself up on my elbows. “Go on, then.”
“Excuse me?”
“Telling someone you want to apologize is not an apology. You have to actually say it.”
He dropped to his knees in the sand. “I’m sorry.”
“For?”
“Do I have to list every sin?”
“Only the ones you’re sorry for.”
“I’m sorry I accused you of vandalizing the property.”
“Apology accepted.”
“So, I have to ask,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Are you going tomorrow?”
“Probably. My friends want me to.”
“Please, don’t go,” he said.
That pissed me off. “Where do you get off telling me what to do?”
“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m asking you not to go. It’s going to get messy.”
I shrugged. “Sorry, I’m going.”
I hadn’t been sure I was going to go until just then.
“It might get dangerous,” he warned. “The cruise line owner, Judd, is pissed about all of this. Really pissed. I’m trying to keep him out of town, but he’s coming. He wants to confront the locals. You and I both know that’s not going to end well.”
I laughed. “Oh, that’s a great idea. Let Mr. Bigshot show up. Everyone will have a lot to say to him.”
He grimaced and shook his head. He didn’t like that. “Summer, this isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” I sat up fully and brushed sand off my elbow. “You want me to stay home while my friends and my neighbors stand up for something that matters to them because your business partner has a temper problem? That’s what you’re asking me?”
“I’m asking you to be careful. He’s pissed and whether you want to admit it or not, the vandalism is illegal. Someone broke the law and if that same person is at the protest stirring shit up, they will be arrested.”
“Look,” I said, softer. “I hear you. I do. But I’m not going to hide in my house because some asshole is throwing a tantrum about someone messing with his little project.”
“It’s not just his project. I’m investing in it. His name is on it, but I’m putting up a lot of money.”
I shrugged. “Not my problem.”
He sat back on his heels in the sand. He looked human. Normal. I almost felt bad for him.
“I went to the Pelican the other night,” he said.
I blinked at the subject change. “It’s not the Pelican anymore.”
“No. It’s not.” He said it quietly, like he was still a little surprised by it. “It’s not the same. Not even close.”
I nodded. I remembered when they sold it. It had been a whole thing. Half the town showed up for the last night and Elena cried when they turned off the lights.
“They retired.”
“It felt wrong,” he said. “Like a piece of history was erased.”
“It’s not the same place you left,” I said. “But Surfside isn’t really about what you see.”
He offered a soft smile. “Did you become a poet in my four-year absence?”
“Better a poet than a business tycoon.”
“I’ll think about that while I’m counting my millions,” he retorted.
I laughed. “Good one.”
“You’re smiling,” he said.
“I’m squinting. Your big ass needs to move about six inches to the right.”
He did just that. “Better?”
“No. You’re blocking my sun.”
“You get plenty of sun.”
“Does that bother you?” I asked.
His eyes raked over my body. “Just worried about those tan lines.”
I leaned forward. “What makes you think I have tan lines?”
“Want me to check?”
“I think you’re delusional and in my personal space.”
“You’re on a public beach.”
I got to my feet. “It is public, and that’s part of the problem.”
“What problem?”
“This beach is meant to be enjoyed by all, and you and your little buddy want to take some of that public space and make an ugly port. And then there will be hotels that want to claim they own the sand. And then there will be surf shacks and restaurants. And then you know what happens?”
“The beach is gone,” he said.
“Ah, beauty and brains,” I said with a wink.
“You think I’m beautiful?” he teased.
“Pretty boy.”
I needed to get out of this conversation. I needed to get away from him. I could feel the gravitational pull that had drawn me to him every summer for three years. I could not let it happen again. I’d survived the pain once. Twice would kill me.
My adult class was arriving. My exit was right there, and I was going to take it.
“I have to go,” I said, brushing sand from my legs.
He stayed on his knees in the sand, looking up at me. He looked so much like the man I’d fallen for that it physically hurt. Same eyes. Same jaw. Same stupid, irresistible smile that could convince me of anything.
“Please don’t go tomorrow.”
I looked back over my shoulder. “I’ll see you on the other side of the picket line, Anderson.”
I walked away and didn’t let myself look back again. I knew if I did, I’d see him watching me, and I’d remember every single night we’d spent tangled together in the dark.