Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
“That is some scary shit,” Abel says. “I get that.”
“Makes me feel anxious. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. I just have this gut feeling that shit’s gonna go south, which is—yeah, fucking horrible to live with.”
Riley nods. “Because shit has gone south for you before. In a big way.”
I nod, too choked up to answer. A wave approaches. I lie on my belly and wait for the tell-tale thunder to fill my ears. I start to paddle when I hear it. My arms feel like wet noodles, and I can’t paddle fast enough to be where I need to catch the wave. I’m a second, maybe two, behind. But I still go for it. I leap up onto my board on unsteady legs.
“Tuck! Let it go!” I hear Riley call.
Instead, I stay upright for one full heartbeat before the wave crashes over me and I’m plunged into the water’s icy darkness.
The force of the wave pushes me deep down. The exposed skin on my face, hands, feet screams. I kick my legs and pull at the water with my arms. I do it again. And again. I still don’t reach the surface.
I feel a frisson of fear. I’m deeper than I thought. My body is tired. Pressure builds in my lungs, an urgent call for oxygen.
I’m not going to make it.
Kicking harder, I open my eyes but only see murk. I can’t tell up from down. Am I swimming the wrong way? The water is so cold it’s hard to tell.
My legs are numb. But the pain inside me glows white-hot. Is this really going to be the last thing I feel? Immense, burning regret?
Something grabs me. A hand on one arm. Another hand on the other. I’m yanked upright, my head breaking the ocean’s surface just as I’m about to involuntarily breathe in salt water.
The first thing I see is Abel’s frown. “Jesus fucking Christ, Tuck. You really do have a death wish.”
But it’s the wild-eyed look on Riley’s face that makes my heart twist. He is—was—genuinely scared I was about to drown.
“That’s enough surfing for today,” he says. “Out of the water, Tuck.”
My friends stay close as we paddle back to shore. Once we’re there, I collapse onto the sand. That, too, is cold, but it’s warmer than the water was.
I suck in huge lungfuls of air and close my eyes. Let the sun sink into my skin, slowly thawing the numbness there.
Ray of fucking sunshine.
God, I miss her.
I hear a crack, followed by a familiar hissing sound. A second later something is being pressed into my hand. I open my eyes to see Abel offering me a beer, wrapped thoughtfully in a koozie. I can feel the raised print of Dixon Carts & More on the foam sleeve.
“Thanks.” I sit up, bending my knees so I can rest my elbows on them.
The three of us sit and stare out at the ocean and drink. Well, Abel and I drink beer while Riley slugs some water. He’s been sober since he went through a rough patch when we were nineteen. No one says a word. I appreciate how they’re giving me the space I need to talk, while also not pressing me to talk at all.
My throat is so tight it makes my head hurt. I drink my beer in thirsty pulls.
When the can is empty, I dangle it over my knee. “She left me last night.”
Riley and Abel take a second to absorb the news.
“What happened?” Abel asks.
How do I explain this? “It’s a long story.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be.” Riley nudges me with his elbow. “We’re listening.”
“Losing Becca destroyed me. I shut down after that for years. Until I met Maren, actually.”
“She opened you up,” Abel says.
I nod. “She was—is—so different. The second I let her in, I think I fell in love with her.” The air wheezes out of my lungs at the sound of those words. “And then we’re at the hospital and the doctor is telling us about the possibility of Maren bleeding out and the baby dying, and I just, like, get this vision of losing someone I love all over again. It freaked me the fuck out.” I wipe my eyes. “I can’t go through that a second time. So I shut down. I shut Maren out the way I did in the beginning, and she rightfully walked out on me.”
Abel puts a hand on my shoulder. “You’re just trying to protect yourself.”
“Yeah. Something like that.”
“You do know Maren didn’t bleed out, and the baby didn’t die,” Riley says gently. “Everyone is okay.”
“That’s the most fucked up part. Obviously she’s fine. But my mind”—I snap my fingers—“immediately went there.”
Abel squeezes my shoulder. “Makes sense. Becca did an about face on you out of nowhere. With Maren, you’re anticipating the worst because the worst has happened to you.”