Chapter 17
MORRISON
JOEY
Rain by Sleep Token
The leather seat creaks as I shift my legs across Jesse’s lap, bare feet pressing against his thigh.
My Jeep sits parked at our spot, a secluded stretch of beach where the cliffs create a natural privacy screen.
Waves crash against the rocks below, their rhythm matching the comfortable silence between us.
Salt dries tight on my skin, and my hair hangs damp against my shoulders, stiff with ocean water.
Jesse’s swim trunks are still dark with it, clinging low on his hips, and droplets trail down his bare chest from where he ran his hands through his hair a few minutes ago.
The late sun catches them, turning his skin golden.
These are the stolen moments I look forward to, strung together like pearls on a necklace. It’s not the thrill of secrecy anymore but the deeper satisfaction of having him. He consumes my every thought, waiting until the next time we’re together.
Jesse’s fingers trace lazy circles on my ankle, his touch burning through the salt still drying on my skin. The simple contact sends electricity through my nerves, and I have to bite back a smile thinking about how completely he affects me.
“Remember that summer Maggie decided she wanted to learn to surf?” The memory surfaces unbidden, and laughter bubbles up in my chest.
Jesse’s grin transforms his face, erasing the shadows that sometimes creep into his expression. “Because she saw the instructor on the beach and thought he was hot.”
“She spent an entire week talking about her ‘surf lessons’ with Jake.” I shake my head, warmth spreading through me at the memory. “Bought a new bikini, practiced her poses in the mirror.”
“Then showed up for her first lesson and got paired with that sixty-year-old guy with a necklace made of shells.” Jesse’s thumb presses into my arch, working out a knot from morning chores. “What was his name?”
“Gary.” The memory of Maggie’s outraged expression makes me giggle. “Said he kept calling her ‘kiddo’ and telling her surfing was ‘just like life.’”
“Your sister’s inability to hide disappointment is truly spectacular.” His mock-serious tone cracks as I dig my toes into his ribs. “Hey!”
“Yeah, but she stuck it out,” I defend her.
“Notice how she’s not a pro surfer,” Jesse says, rolling his eyes, and I poke him with my foot.
The breeze picks up off the water, lifting his dark hair off his forehead, and something in my chest catches.
He looks younger like this, unguarded, the ocean behind him and the last of the daylight softening the angles of his face.
No shadows. No mask. My boy from summers that tasted like this one—salt and sun and nowhere else to be.
A song drifts from the radio, something acoustic and unhurried, blending with the crash of waves until I can’t tell where one ends and the other begins.
“That was the same summer Dylan decided to play beach volleyball to impress Morgan.” I arch an eyebrow at him. “The least athletic person I know.”
“Then he dove for a ball and sprained his wrist,” Jesse laughs.
“And Morgan didn’t even see it happen because she was in the water.”
His fingers slide higher on my calf, tracing aimless patterns while he watches the horizon. A gull cries somewhere above us, and the salt air thickens as the tide pushes closer.
“I think Gary had the right idea, though,” Jesse says, his mouth twitching. “Surfing is just like life.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“Think about it. You paddle out, you eat shit, you get back up.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie.” I flick some of my water at him. “Gary would be so proud.”
The ocean stretches endlessly before us, sunset painting the water in shades of gold and rose.
Jesse’s hand drifts higher on my leg, fingers skimming the sensitive skin behind my knee.
Something in my stomach flips at the casual intimacy of it, him touching me like he has every right, like my body belongs to him as much as it belongs to me.
“I loved those summers.” The confession slips out softly. “All of us together, Dylan’s ridiculous attempts to impress Morgan, Maggie’s dramatic meltdowns, you and me just…” My throat tightens with the memory. “Those summers meant everything to me. They were the best part of growing up.”
Jesse’s fingers still on my leg, and when I glance at him, the openness from a moment ago is gone. Something behind his eyes shutters, quick and quiet.
“Things were simpler back then,” he says. I watch a couple walking along the shoreline below, their silhouettes dark against the fading light. “We were all kids with nowhere else to be.”
He doesn’t elaborate, and my chest aches because that was the summer he shut the door between us. I tamp down the questions I’ve been wanting to ask because it doesn’t matter anymore. He’s here with me now. At least that’s what I tell myself.
My gaze drifts back to the horizon. “Now Dylan’s running Stonewall Records, Maggie’s out there filming tours. And you…” I glance at him, seeing the mask even when he’s not wearing it. “Silent Revenant is going places, Jesse.” Places I can’t follow.
“We’re all doing our thing.” His voice carries careful neutrality, but tension creeps into his shoulders.
“And I’m still exactly where I was at the beginning of it all.” The admission tastes bitter on my tongue.
“That’s bullshit,” he says. “Dylan might be at the head of Stonewall but he’s still trying to figure out what kind of CEO he wants to be.” His ocean blue eyes pin me to my seat. “And Maggie,” he lets out a breath, “she’s having an adventure, but what happens when that ends?”
I’ve never thought about Maggie’s life as anything other than the opposite of mine—bright, fast, and full. It never occurred to me that opposite doesn’t mean better.
“Staying isn’t the same as standing still, Joey.”
A knot loosens in my chest. No one has ever said it to me like that, like it’s a fact and not a consolation.
But Maggie’s voice echoes in my head, the way it did the day she left, soft around the edges but still sharp enough to cut.
I love you, but sometimes I worry you’re out here playing horse whisperer while the rest of us actually live.
“Why does it feel like everyone is judging me?” I trace a circle on my bare knee, avoiding his eyes. Becca and Zoey comparing me to Maggie. Family and friends wondering what I’m going to do with my life.
“Who the fuck cares what everyone else thinks?” Jesse’s hand wraps around my ankle, grounding me. “What do you want, Joey?”
I blink and my mind goes blank.
The question hangs between us. I open my mouth to deflect, to make a joke, but something in his expression stops me. He’s asking because he actually wants to know, because my answer matters to him.
I stare out at the waves, his hands still warm on my legs.
The truth sits in my chest like a stone.
“I love the ranch. I love working with horses, especially the ones everyone writes off as broken.” The words come easier now, gathering momentum.
“When I can rehome a horse that everyone thought was a lost cause, when I see them learn to trust again, that’s where I find meaning.
” I look back at him, and the adoration in his eyes makes my chest tight.
He might be the only other person besides my mother who gets me, and even she worries I’m not really living.
“That’s my girl,” Jesse says, a smile tugging at his lips. I like it when he calls me his girl, like I belong to more than myself. “No one else can chart your path for you.”
“Namaste.”
Jesse’s smile widens. “Don’t be a smart ass.”
“Actually, I found a perfect home for Morrison. This couple up in Paso Robles with a small ranch. They lost a horse last year and have been looking for the right match. They came to visit last week and fell in love with him.”
Jesse lets out a laugh. “Morrison? I gotta hear this one.”
“Don’t make fun of my names,” I say indignantly. “Jim Morrison was brilliant, but a loner. It seemed to fit when we first got him.” I pause, watching the waves drag sand back into the ocean. “And now he won’t be alone anymore. He’ll have other horses to be with.”
“Paso Robles is a long haul.”
“Yeah, but worth it. They sent me photos of their setup, and it’s exactly what he needs. Plenty of space, another horse for company, people who understand what he’s been through.” I lean back slightly, satisfaction warming my chest. “I’m taking him up there next week.”
“Isn’t it hard to give them up?” he asks.
“Wow, if only your fans knew what a soft heart you have behind that mask of yours.” I raise my eyebrows and giggle. “It’s not like they’re a litter of puppies.”
Jesse laughs. “I’m sorry I don’t have a black heart like you,” he teases, jostling my leg.
“It’s not sad because it means I’ve given them a second chance.”
We watch the sun sink lower toward the horizon. His thumb traces absent patterns on my calf, and I let myself exist in this moment, the radio still playing something low and lazy, the ocean pulling itself in and out like breathing.
“You know what I love about you?” His voice breaks the quiet—soft and thoughtful.
“What?”
His hand slides higher on my leg, fingers skimming behind my knee again, but this time the touch carries a different intention, playful and mischievous. “How ticklish you are.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn, recognizing the gleam in his eyes.
“Think about what?” His expression turns innocent, but his fingers dance closer to my most ticklish spots.
“Jesse O’Donnell, I swear—”
Before I can finish the threat, his fingers dig into the soft spot behind my knee. I shriek, trying to yank my legs away, but he catches my ankle with his other hand, holding me in place as he attacks with ruthless efficiency.
“Jesse!” His name comes out between helpless giggles as I squirm. “Stop!”
“Admit Gary was right.” His grin turns wicked as he continues the torture, his free hand now finding my ribs, making escape impossible. “Surfing is just like life. Say it.”
“Never!” But I’m laughing too hard to sound convincing, tears streaming down my face as I try to shove his hands away. “Gary was a lunatic with a shell necklace!”
“Wrong answer.” He redoubles his efforts, one hand still pinning my legs, the other mercilessly tickling anywhere he can reach, and I dissolve into breathless shrieks, my abs cramping from laughter.
“Okay, okay!” I gasp, surrender inevitable. “Surfing is just like life! Gary was a genius! You win!”
His hands still, and suddenly the atmosphere between us shifts.
The laughter fades, replaced by something heavier, something that hums beneath my skin.
My breathing hasn’t recovered but it’s not from the tickling anymore.
It’s from the way he’s looking at me, fingers still pressed against my ribs, his chest rising and falling with his own uneven breaths.
He pulls me forward, guiding me until I’m straddling his lap.
The shift from playful to heated happens in a single exhale, my hands finding his bare shoulders, his skin still warm from the sun, gritty with salt beneath my palms. His fingers thread into my damp hair, tilting my head back as his eyes search my face.
The vulnerability in his expression steals my breath, raw and open in a way he rarely allows.
“You make me happy, Joey.” His thumb traces my bottom lip, the touch achingly gentle. “Do you know that?”
The question hangs between us.
“Jesse—”
He captures my mouth with his, swallowing whatever I was going to say.
He tastes like salt air and summer. I sink into him, fingers curling into his hair, pouring all the words I can’t say into the press of my lips against his.
When we break apart, the sun has slipped halfway below the horizon, bleeding orange across the water. His forehead rests against mine, and his breath is warm and unsteady on my mouth.
But even here, wrapped in him, the world outside exists. The secret sitting between us and everyone we love. The distance between this hidden stretch of beach and the life neither of us has figured out how to merge with the other.
I kiss him again because it’s easier than asking how long we can keep this.