Chapter Eleven
—NOA
The cost to replace the surfboard will total more than all our sales this week. I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my father, how I’m going rationalize messing up again. We don’t even have a legit credit card on file.
Now out past the breaker and treading water, I look around. I don’t see the neon-green-and-orange board anywhere. I shouldn’t have even rented it to Matteo in the first place. I knew better. It was pathetic. And it was all because of money.
The waves push me around, and I rest a moment, weak with despair and disappointment. Everyone I know has tried to warn me about Matteo, even my brother. I just didn’t listen.
The month before he left, Ellis had pulled me aside at one of the bonfires. “You need to stay away from them,” he warned. “The Mancinis are bad people. You can’t trust any of them, including Matteo.”
When I looked pointedly at Felix, who was standing next to him, Felix acknowledged the irony.
“Yeah, I know they’re my family,” he said.
“But Ellis is right. Matteo is in deep with his dad, trying to show off. You don’t need to get caught up in that.
Just…” Ellis shook his head subtly. “Just be safe, Noa,” Felix added instead.
“And stay away,” Ellis reiterated.
I wish I had listened that night. I wish I listened now. I slap the water and let out a scream.
To keep the thoughts away, I keep searching. My limbs are burning, every kick weaker than the last. The salt stings my eyes and throat, tears mixed with ocean water.
The surfboard’s gone, and as I look around, my heart starts to pound a little faster as I realize that I’ve gotten too far from the shore. I’ve been out here too long.
I start toward the beach, but the current grabs and tugs at my legs. With each stroke, I seem to gain less ground, my body trembling and numb from the cold and effort. Panic starts to edge its way in as the water continues to push me back from the shore.
I’m so, so tired.
Just then, I notice movement off to the side, slicing through the water. I squint into the light, my vision blurry. It takes a moment before I recognize it’s Jamie.
My breath catches, relief surging through me so fast that I lose my train of thought and slip underwater. I fight back up, sputtering as I lift my shaking arm, waving until Jamie waves back. I don’t have it in me to play it cool right now, to pretend I’m not utterly grateful to see him.
He paddles closer, calm and fast like it’s his day job to rescue people from the ocean. I hitch in a little gasp when I see that he’s on the missing board.
“You found it!” I yell out. A wave hits me then, and I slip back under, gulping in water as I thrash to get back to the surface.
And then Jamie is there, hauling me halfway onto the board.
After choking out a mouthful of seawater, I rest my cheek on the cool fiberglass as I try to catch my breath. My limbs burn from exhaustion.
When I finally glance up at Jamie, he’s straddling the board, backlit by the sun like some heartthrob. I smile, slow and honest. It suits him. Jamie has always been golden.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“Sorry it took me so long.”
He reaches to brush some wet strands of hair off my cheek, and I turn slightly into his touch before I can stop myself. My heart flutters as he lingers there, a soft smile on his lips as he gazes down at me.
I miss him. I miss this. And just when I’m sure that he feels the same, he let’s go.
Jamie slips off the board, shaking me from the warmth with a splash of cold water. I come back into the moment as he moves next to me to steady the board.
“Here,” he says. “Climb up, and I’ll bring you in.”
With the moment reset, I let him help me onto the board. He swims beside me, pushing me toward the beach, both us rising and falling with the waves. Every so often, I look over at him and see his jaw clench as he fights the tide. I know he’s exhausted too.
“Why did you go after the board?” I ask.
He chuckles as if the question is ridiculous. He doesn’t even answer it. And I feel myself soften again, because I know he did it for me. Even if he doesn’t say it out loud.
When the water’s finally shallow enough to stand, I slip off and wade the rest of the way in. Jamie follows close behind, his hand steady on the edge of the surfboard as he guides it. Although my legs are tired, I start to jog ahead. The beach has never been so inviting.
The second I hit dry sand, I collapse onto my back, still gasping as my lungs try to catch up. Jamie drops down beside me, splashing me with water when he does. With his body warm next to mine, I close my eyes.
At first, the only sound is our breathing, fast and chaotic. But soon, rhythmic. Peaceful.
“I had nothing to do with it,” he says finally, his voice low. “I tried to stop him in the water, but…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence, letting it float away instead.
I turn to him as he lies back, his head against the sand as he stares up at the blue sky, his chest rising and falling. He looks lost right now, and I wish I knew why. I wish he would have told me. Instead, he showed up on my beach with Matteo Mancini, of all people.
Just then, Jamie shifts his position and I see a bruise curling under his left eye—decidedly fist sized. I sit up and pound on the sand.
“Did he seriously hit you?” I demand, motioning to his face.
Jamie touches the area lightly, flinching as his fingers brush the skin. “What, this?” he asks. “This was just a little difference of opinion.”
My mind spins and I can only imagine what lies Matteo told him about me. As if I’m already not humiliated enough. “Was it about me?” I ask.
“It wasn’t about you,” Jamie says instantly. “It was about him being an asshole.”
I’m grateful for the way Jamie frames it. It actually helps. Although I’m sure Matteo had a few choice words about me, especially if he was jealous, he is indeed an asshole. And sometimes I have to remind myself that it’s not my fault that he takes it out on me.
Jamie, on the other hand, is the opposite.
He’s always had this honor code that only he seems to follow.
The kind where he can rationalize tossing someone’s bike off the pier because they didn’t tip their server.
He’s not innocent, by any means, but he has this sense of justice…
this core of goodness about him. He’s always had it.
And I’ve always loved it.
We watch each other, and for a moment, it’s like no time has passed at all. As if we’ve always been here together, sitting on the beach in the sun. But that’s not what happened. When I sigh with the weight of it, Jamie studies my eyes as if trying to guess what I want to hear.
But what can he possibly say to make things right between us? It’s all still here, heavy in my chest. Only most of the good parts are blotted out by the times when I was in bed, curled up on my side and wondering what I did wrong.
“Ask me,” he says, nodding that it’s okay.
I’m scared to know, because if the answer is that he didn’t love me anymore, I’d rather not hear. But as I look at him… I know that’s not it. I know it was all real.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving Cape Hope?” I ask.
He sits up, rubbing absently over his heart. He stares at the horizon, his eyes on some fixed point. “I didn’t know I was leaving,” he murmurs. “And by the time I did, when I knew I wouldn’t be coming back… it just seemed easier.”
I almost laugh. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s selfish. It’s bitter.
“Easier for you,” I say, clarifying his shitty point. “Because for me… I waited. I called you.”
“I know.” His voice is quiet, like he’s tried to apologize a hundred times in his head but never knew how. And he still doesn’t.
“We had four years,” I whisper, and he flinches like it’s a slap. “Four summers, spring breaks, holidays. All of it. And then not one phone call, Jamie? Not even a fucking text.”
It hurts, even now. Sitting with him on the beach has torn open the wound again, leaving it bleeding and sore.
And still, I wait a little longer. Because some part of me, the part that loves who he used to be, wants to hear why.
Why he walked away like I never mattered.
Why he shattered everything and didn’t even look back.
He really did it. He broke my heart.
Jamie wraps his arms around his bent knees, hanging his head like he’s ashamed. He doesn’t offer an explanation. And I think that’s probably worse. I can’t just keep waiting.
I turn away and blink up at the sky, breathing past the weight in my chest. I close my eyes until the heaviness subsides. Until I remember there’s more to my life than Jamie Matthews.
When the world feels steady again, I stand up and brush the sand off my legs.
Behind me, Jamie stirs and scrambles to his feet. “Noa,” he says, as if his voice alone can draw me back. “Please don’t hate me.”
I shake my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s fine,” I manage, even though it’s not. “We’re cool.”
The tide rolls all the way up to our feet, washing over my toes. I look down at the receding water, dragging sand with it—slipping away from us. I can’t help but think it’s a sign.
When I turn back to Jamie, I’m struck by his sadness, the way there’s something broken underneath that he’ll never say.
I don’t need him to be in love with me anymore—I’ll survive that. But I am glad he’s here. I still like being around him. Truth is, I could never hate him.
“Hey,” I say softly, drawing his attention. “You still look good on that board, you know.”
The corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “I had the best teacher.”
“You really did.”
A horn sounds, sharp and distant, and we turn to see Jamie’s boat gliding toward the dock. I expect him to look relieved, but instead, his eyes narrow, already tracking the damage. His gaze snags on the bow—scraped, bruised, but floating.
Honestly, it’s not as bad as it looks. Nothing fatal.