Chapter 27
I’d like to think the confidence I have in Riley in the courtroom could easily be extended to the both of us when on a surfboard.
Really, we look like a bunch of idiots.
While paddling out and popping up together has been easier to manage than I initially thought, I’ve yet to successfully stand on Riley’s shoulders, which makes our party trick not much of a trick at all. At this point, we won’t even look like amateurs in the competition that’s only a few weeks away.
But Riley hasn’t thrown the towel in yet. And as imperfect as our practices go, there are moments of perfection on the board, like right now with Riley’s chest pressed against my ass. And maybe that’s why we can’t quite get this right. Maybe I’m too focused on holding on to Riley when I should be focused on letting go of him.
Can anyone blame me? Over the past week, there’s been a series of soft, subtle touches that I don’t even think would make the cut for a PG rating. Riley is so immersed in preparing for the hearing that hasn’t even been scheduled yet, sometimes he doesn’t even notice I leave my spot in the club chair and head upstairs to get ready for bed.
On those nights, he sprints upstairs thirty seconds after me and kisses me breathless, leaving me with my toes curled and fingers clutching him.
So, these moments of full, physical contact out in the ocean just have to fill my cup up. But I don’t get to enjoy them long enough.
“Alright. Paddle.”
It still surprises me how immensely my arms ache from wading through the water, battling the tide over and over. I realize this is why Riley—who survives off high-fructose corn syrup—has deceptively strong arms despite their leanness.
I imagine he could hold me like I’m the most delicate thing in the world in one breath, and keep me pinned against the wall in the other with very little effort.
I fantasize about both.
When we approach a larger wave, I stop paddling to grip the edges of the board as we go over it. The movement makes my ass slide down his stomach.
“You’re really gonna get it.”
I half shrug. “Take it up with the ocean. It’s not my fault.”
What is my fault is the way I shimmy a little further down so the right part of me connects with the right part of him. So I deserve the playful slap to the outside of my thigh.
“You’re all bark,” I tease. “But no bite.”
It’s at this point Riley draws a yelp from me when he does bite—right into small amount of exposed skin of my neck. But he’s quick to soothe the spot with a kiss.
“Focus,” he tells me.
Defeated, I follow his lead.
“Now. Turn, turn,” Riley says quickly as I see a wave approaching in the distance. Even though we haven’t pulled this off, we need to make sure we’re far enough out that just in case I have the chance to flip backward from Riley’s shoulders into the water, I don’t break my neck.
“Paddle.”
I do. As fast as I can, but its Riley who really gives us speed .
“Up first,” he commands.
I know my flexibility that gives me an advantage here, because Riley doesn’t leave me a lot of room to work with, but I manage to crawl out from beneath him and stand. The feeling alone is a high, but when the board teeters as Riley gets on his feet behind me, I know we have to aim for something higher.
His right hand comes to my waist as we use our lefts to hold balance.
“Ready?”
“Ready or not.”
It’s a whisper, but Riley must hear it. Because his other hand comes down to grab my waist. My instinct is to grip the board tightly with my toes, but there isn’t any time for that. Because for the first time in a month, Riley lifts me up and sits me on his shoulders.
His voice is painted with the same disbelief that I feel when he yells, “Hands, hands!”
I know there isn’t time to waste. Every second counts, because if we’re going to do this, we have to do it now.
I squeeze Riley’s hands. We both know the ocean waits for no one.
“Come on,” Riley commands.
From up here I don’t have to admit to Riley that I squeeze my eyes shut when I pull my legs up to stand, using his arms for support.
And when I open them, I’m watching the longboard break through the water from above.
“Riley!” I exclaim when a seagull wizzes past me. “Riley, I think I’m flying.”
The sound that Riley lets out of his chest is a mix of disbelief and sheer joy rolled into one.
“Yeah. You are.” He squeezes my ankles. “But you’ve gotta get down now.”
I’ve walked on tight ropes. I’ve climbed beams, dangled from rings high above the ground. But I’m terrified because there is no safety net, no arms to catch me.
Just the water.
“Leap of faith, yeah?” Riley’s voice sounds, as if he’s reading my thoughts.
“A blind leap of faith!”
I mean it literally because I shut my eyes again and dip just enough for a little leverage. The gentle push tosses my feet from Riley’s shoulders and all of my body follows as I flip backward off him and into the ocean.
I land feet first and well beneath the surface. And it’s here I stay, in this pocket of calm below the roar of the tide above me, for just a few seconds. Because even though Nate’s body is buried somewhere else, even though I can’t summon him every time I dream, I know I’ll always find a bit of him here.
I did it , I say to Nate. We did it.
And that’s when I realize we’ve done a lot in a few months, Riley and me.
We’ve gone from hating each other to looking out for one another, to working toward a common goal because we both love Lucas.
And I know that’s what would make Nate happy—seeing his two favorite people on the same side, on the right side.
When I break through the surface, I find Riley turning his head left and right rather frantically and I feel bad.
“Hey,” I call out, smiling when he turns. “We did it.”
With one hand resting on the board, Riley treads over. Beneath the surface his other hand snakes around my waist and he leans his head to me.
“Maybe you’re right,” he whispers. “Maybe we are the magic.”
I press my lips to his. Even though magic can’t be explained, it certainly can never be wrong. And isn’t that what we are? Riley and I are the thing that can’t be explained or rationalized. We’re the thing that has you not believing your eyes, the wonder that inspires a sharp breath because you simply can’t believe it.
On land or offshore, whether I’m gripping the rug with my toes or flying off his shoulders and taking a blind leap of faith through fresh ocean air, I drown—happily—in our magic. With walls down, it’s not even willingly.
I can’t stop kissing him.
“You have to go.” Riley laughs at my lips, but he’s the one who holds me in place with a hand to the back of my head. His lips are lined with salt water, but inside his mouth is strongly sweet. And isn’t that him entirely? Gruff and rugged on the outside, but soft beneath tanned skin that always faintly smells like sunblock, even after he’s showered.
I finally do leave. Fifteen minutes later, I’ve peeled off my wetsuit and am practically skipping to my car.
“You know, I had a feeling that this was all Riley’s thing.” I jump when Silas’s voice sounds from behind me.
Closing the trunk where I’ve dumped my bag, I turn, tightening the towel around my waist. He stands in his uniform, his cruiser parked down the street. For a second I think filing the complaint was enough. He’s here to give me Tides back.
But Silas’s car is empty.
“I was planning to come to your place after my shift. Saw your car.” He presses his mouth together tightly when he pauses before adding, “And Riley’s.”
My eyes drift to Riley’s Jeep parked two spots over.
“This is his place of business,” I remind Silas. “Why wouldn’t he be there? And it’s a public beach. Why shouldn’t I be here?”
Silas tips his head out to the surf. “You two were looking awfully cozy out there.”
“Did you come here to give me my dog back?” I ask, changing the subject immediately. Because as far as I’m concerned, that’s the only part of my business that involves Silas.
He sighs and shakes his head angrily. “Harper, what are you doing? ”
I jut my head back. “What am I doing? Getting our dog back, that’s what I’m doing. If you don’t have him, I have nothing to say to you, Silas. You, your police friends, whoever, you can talk to my lawyer, alright?”
“Your lawyer?” Silas asks as I walk around to the driver’s side door. “Or your boyfriend? What’s it been? Barely six months?”
I whip around.
There’s been nothing barely about the time following Nate’s death. And that won’t change in another month, or another year. The loss will be there, large and overwhelming some days, but other days, I’ll feel fortunate I had something to miss at all.
I think.
“You are out of line,” I seethe, but the truth is, I’ve swallowed the seeds of doubt because at the same time I tell him that I also ask myself, is he really?
“What’s out of line…” Silas towers over me. “Is fucking Nate’s best friend before he’s cold in the ground. Or maybe it’s in line. Maybe this has been going on between you two this whole time. Maybe you were fucking when Nate was—“
As quickly as I raise my hand to slap him, Silas grabs my wrist.
But just as quickly, I’m shoved to the side, and Silas into the car—by Riley.
“You put your hands on her again and you’ll be on medical leave after I break them, do you understand me?”
Riley presses his forearm harder into Silas’s chest, pulling a grunt from him.
Silas’s face twists as he huffs out a breath. “It’s a felony to assault a police officer.”
“Oh. I’m aware.” Riley smirks. “That’s why I stepped in to prevent my client from doing something stupid with the hand you didn’t grab. Like punching you right into the gut. She might be on the petite side, but don’t fool yourself.” His voice lowers. “My girl grew up around lions. Don’t think she’s scared of you. ”
My girl .
I keep hearing the words Riley said so easily.
Silas takes a deep breath and smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt when Riley lets go and moves to my side.
“Better get going, Silas. Or I’ll call your buddies and report your harassment.”
I watch as Silas cocks his tongue against his cheek and shakes his head. “We’ll be seeing you around sooner or later, Riley.”
“You will. In court,” Riley snaps as Silas walks away. He’s standing partly in front of me, watching Silas walk across the street and back to his car and doesn’t move until he drives off down the Boulevard.
It’s only because I drop my keys that I realize my hands are shaking.
“Hey,” Riley asks. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Whatever he said to you,” Riley begins, bending down to get my keys, “Don’t let it get into your pretty little head.”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth but release it quickly. “It was about Tides.” These words, they’re a lie. But like I lie about the tooth fairy or Santa to preserve Lucas's innocence because I love him, I lie to Riley because I can’t bear to ladle him with more guilt than he already carries.
“What’s out of line is fucking his best friend before Nate’s even cold in the ground .”
And it’s too late. These words aren’t in my head.
They’re drilling into and permeating their way into my heart.
“Oh, Lucas.” I unzip his duffle bag for the fifth time since I deemed it packed and ready to go. “How many do you need?”
Lucas drops another two action figures into the bag. “They’re not the Avengers without Iron Man.” He rolls his eyes and I have no idea where he picked that up.
We both look up when there’s a knock on Lucas's door and find Riley. “I’ve gotta head to work, man. Give me a hug goodbye.”
Lucas hops off the bed and runs, wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist. “See ya later.”
“Zip that tent up tight.” Riley ruffles Lucas's head. “Keep the bears out.”
“We’re sleeping in a cabin ,” Lucas reminds him.
Now it’s me who shoots off the bed. “I should get an extra first aid kit.”
When Riley rolls his eyes as I pass by I realize where Lucas got the gesture from. In my bathroom, I grab a small first aid kit, opening it to make sure there’s Neosporin and more bandages than even the clumsiest kid would need for a few days away.
I hear Lucas playing in his room and find Riley in the hall at the stairs. “You good?”
Holding my arms out, I lower my gaze, giving my body a search sarcastically. Because, why wouldn’t I be okay?
But as we stand, holding each other’s gazes, I realize apart from Lucas playing in his room, there’s an echo of silence in the house—no dog running up and down the stairs, no sign of Nate. If you take away Lucas's noises, it will be dead quiet.
I’ve been so busy with work and preparing Lucas for his trip, preoccupied with the lawsuit, with everything going on with Riley that I didn’t think about being in the house alone for the first time.
“Harper?”
“Yes,” I lie.
Riley purses his lips together, as if he’s waiting for me to break. But I won’t. Because Claire is on her way to take Lucas on a trip the two of them have been looking forward to since Nate was alive and able to be included in it .
I can’t take it away from two people who lost so much just because it’s going to be hard for me .
“You’re going to be late.” I stop, still a few feet away from Lucas's door and Riley hasn’t moved from his spot. “I’m fine .”
“Alright. I’ll…see you later.”
It’s only a few minutes after I slip the first aid kit into Lucas's bag that the doorbell rings and we go down to answer it. I should be happy that Lucas is this happy, so happy it doesn’t even seem he’ll miss me.
“Give Mommy another hug.” Claire nudges Lucas forward and he quickly comes crashing into me.
I lift him because he’ll never be too old or too big to be my baby. My only baby—my everything.
“Be good.” I squeeze Lucas tightly and my heart expands and deflates like a sad balloon hovering around after a birthday.
“You’ll be home when I come back.”
It’s not a question, but a statement, something he’s manifesting.
Ahead of us, I find Claire staring, the faintest glistening of tears cast in her eyes and I wonder if she can remember every hug she gave Nate, every scraped knee she kissed, every feverish cheek she cupped with a cooler, reassuring hand. I get the bits and pieces of Nate through Lucas every day. I’m lucky I have that. And I can share it. Because the bottom line is without Claire, there would be no Lucas.
Slowly, I lower Lucas to the ground. “Your—”
I shut my mouth. I almost said it. I almost told Lucas his Dad and I will be waiting for him to get back.
“Riley and I will be waiting for you when you come home,” I correct myself, but the tilt of Claire’s head, the inquisitive narrowing of her eyes let me know my attempt to clarify only muddled the waters more.
And Claire is trying to see through it.
I grow hot, flustered, and open my mouth to somehow try to fix this again, but Lucas takes charge, grabbing Claire’s hand .
“Nana, let’s go!”
Claire shakes her head slightly. “Yes. Yes, let’s get going.”
I keep waving even though Claire has already backed out of the driveway and is halfway down the street and out of sight. I wave until my wrist cracks and then drop my arm, returning to the steps. The weight of the memory of Claire’s look forces me to sink down onto them.
“You’re thinking too much. She didn’t say anything.”
But sometimes looks are a good substitute for words.
My stomach twists, but I push through it, talking myself up as I wipe my face with the back of my hand. “I’m happy for them.”
I know I must not look happy right now. Because the pity on Riley’s face is evident even before he’s hopped out of his Jeep he just pulled up in.
“You said you had to go to work.” I lean forward, swiping at my cheeks as discreetly as possible.
“I also told you I’d see you in a bit after you told me you were okay.” Riley sits next to me. “Are you done pretending you’re not crying yet?”
I use my thumbs to gently clear the space beneath my eyes.
It’s just too much.
Tears fall and momentarily stain the steps of the home that once housed everything I ever dreamed of and more. Now, the emptiness, the absence of Tides, of Lucas—even temporarily—makes it feels more like a burden than a blessing, a tease of everything I once found and lost.
“No.”
Riley sighs, wrapping an arm around me. “Do yourself a favor and don’t ever take up poker. I waited down the street until they left to make sure how okay you are.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I’m just…”
Sad. Confused. Worried .
I want to scoot away from Riley. But nothing lets me—not my very heavy heart or racing mind. I lighten and calm beneath his touch. In his gentle, reassuring presence I’m able to push the second thoughts aside for just a minute, even though the tears don’t stop flowing. They simply flow differently with him here.
When Riley brushes his hand up and down my arm, I realize that I’m not alone and maybe I do have the more part of my dreams after all. It was just lurking on the side ready to take up the role when the time was right.
Maybe, like it or not, Riley is the more part and always has been.
But what steals my breath and fills me with unease isn’t that realization. It’s that people might think I’ve really known it all along.