63. Jace
Jace
I’m sitting on my board, legs in the black water. The cold bites at my ankles, but the wind died overnight; all around us, the ocean is glass. To the east, pink climbs over the ridgeline.
It’s rare to have this many of us at the morning session. Maya on my right, can’t sit still. Kai on my left, motionless. Evan farther out, sitting straight on his board. Miles and Luke to his left—Miles talking enough for two, Luke nodding without a word.
Sierra isn’t here. Neither is Harper—she went back to the Gold Coast at the end of summer. Maybe she’ll come back next summer. Or not.
Noah isn’t here either. He comes once a week now, sometimes twice. Last Tuesday he had a decent session—got up on four waves.
He runs on the sand every morning. I often see him at the lodge gym in the evenings. He still smokes too much, but he spends a little more time with the crew now, and sometimes he laughs when Miles says something stupid.
Not healed, but fixable. One day I’ll get my brother back. Not the one from before, but close.
“Jefe, you taking that one, or you planning to watch it roll by?” Maya calls. “?Vamos!”
I smile without turning around.
“You take it.”
She paddles, catches the wave, drops in, blows her line. I hear her cursing in Spanish from the whitewater. Kai smiles, says nothing.
A board paddles out from the beach. I freeze.
It’s yellow.
I know that board. It’s Summer’s. It lives in the Hayes garage—I saw it again just yesterday, putting tools away.
I squint. Blonde hair low against the board.
No. Impossible.
I turn my head toward Kai. Motionless, he watches the figure paddling out.
He knew all along.
“What are you waiting for?” he teases.
I blink. Summer is still there.
It’s too soon. She told me six months, not three.
We talked on the phone yesterday. She sounded tired—nothing unusual.
She can’t be in Coral Bay this morning. And yet here she is, close.
I paddle as hard as I can. My arms burn; the distance between us shrinks. We meet halfway between the peak and the beach. Our boards pull up side by side.
“Surprise!” Summer calls out.
A bright smile lights up her face.
I don’t answer. I put my hand on the back of her neck, pull her to me. She leans in and kisses me. I kiss her back. For a long time.
I finally pull back, rest my forehead against hers.
“Fuck, Summer… what are you doing here?”
“You remember that interview I had two weeks ago? The San Francisco company.”
“Of course.”
“They called me back a few days ago. They didn’t want to wait until my internship ended. My agency let me leave early, so I start Monday.”
It takes me a second to get it. She puts her hand on my chest; her smile widens.
“And it gets better—I negotiated remote work. At first it was two days a week.”
“And?”
Her eyes find mine. The blue of her eyes is lighter than in July—or maybe it’s the light coming up behind me.
“Four days a month on-site.”
“What?”
“Four days a month in San Francisco, Jace. The rest here, remote.”
“You’re going to live here? For real?”
She nods. I take her face in my hands and kiss her hard—nothing like the tame kiss from earlier. Her board knocks into mine and we rock together, her wet hair against my forehead.
“?Oye, los enamorados!”
Maya. Of course.
Summer pulls back and starts laughing. I don’t let go right away.
The whole crew has come closer. They’re a few yards off, in a half-circle on their boards.
“Welcome home, Summer,” Miles says, grinning.
“Took you long enough,” Kai says.
“Still not totally sure who you are, but hey… welcome!” Luke says, with admirable nerve.
Summer frowns. Luke holds it for two seconds, then bursts out laughing. She catches on and laughs with him.
“Hayes, Summer. Residence: Coral Bay. Case closed,” Evan announces.
He touches two fingers to his temple. We all return the salute, even though none of us are cops. Summer laughs harder.
“Should we head in?” she asks. “I’m freezing…”
We paddle toward shore. The sun has come up over the ridge.
On the beach, two figures are waiting, each holding a coffee. Sierra and Noah.
“You knew,” I say, mock-offended.
“Everyone knew,” Noah says.
“Except me.”
“Going by your face, we didn’t get up for nothing.”
“We just got back from SFO,” Sierra says. “Your brother’s idea.”
Noah shrugs.
My throat tightens. Noah hasn’t left Coral Bay since the shark. Six years. And he spent the whole night on the road to go get Summer.
She reaches the shallows and takes off her leash. I rip mine off, grab her by the waist, throw her over my shoulder. She shrieks, laughs, smacks me on the back.
“Put me down! Your leg!”
“I don’t care. I’m happy.”
I move away from the water. My thigh pulls with every step. I limp. After a few yards, I set Summer down on the sand.
She straightens up, pushes a few strands off her face, and smiles at me.
There’s only one thing I want: to show her the house. Our house. Everything I set up for her return.
“Come on.”