A Toyota Hilux idles at the curb with a very attractive man leaning against it. It’s obvious this is Breck with the way he pushes off the ute and drags Wes into a rib-cracking hug. I nearly laugh because it’s just so blatantly affectionate, which isn’t something you often see with men these days.
“Hey, mate, glad you actually woke up for this,” Breck says, giving him one more slap on the back.
“I wouldn’t have missed it. It’s been too long since we’ve paddled out together,” Wes replies.
When Breck pulls back, his eyes land on me and his smile only grows. Damn, between these two, I will not be hurting for eye candy. He has dimples like Wes, but his seem more prominent without any facial hair to hide them. How does he look so genuinely happy to see me? It takes me aback a little, but before I can consider why, he’s pulling me into a similar bone-crushing hug.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Joss.”
“Nice to meet you too.” I try to school my features and wipe the surprise off my face at being hugged by this near stranger. I must not do it fast enough though because Wes catches my eye and looks ready to burst out laughing. I roll my eyes at him and relax into the embrace.
“Shall we get going then?” Wes says, and I appreciate his subtle way of getting Breck to release me. He lays our boards out onto the cargo bed, then gestures for me to hop into the back seat. The drive is mostly silent with all of us still waking up, and I give myself a pat on the back for getting out of bed. The early hour means less traffic and no trouble parking.
The beach is quiet—only a few other people dot the lineup. The water isn’t particularly warm this time of year, so we all move quickly to shuck our clothes in exchange for wetsuits.
Unlike Breck, who keeps his eyes pointed away, I catch the briefest glance from Wes as I shimmy out of my jeans and hoodie. I’m not going to lie though, the struggle is real to keep my eyes in my head when Wes pulls his hoodie off, revealing tan, muscled skin underneath. There’s another scar at his left shoulder that runs about five inches across to his pec, and I once again tamp down the urge to ask for his scar stories. Not that I could speak even if I tried with how tongue-tied the sight of his bare chest makes me. As he wraps himself in a towel, I force myself to turn and face the surf, knowing he’ll be sliding his board shorts off under that towel any second.
I appreciate that, as a woman, my bikini easily fits underneath my wetsuit without bunching. So I don’t comment on the little surfer’s shuffle they’re both doing, no matter how much I want to tease them.Focus on the surf, Joss—not on what you’d see if Wes dropped his towel right now.
When I hear the sound of two zippers being pulled up, I know it’s safe to grab my board off the sand behind me. Being only human, I take note of how well their wetsuits mold to their toned bodies, then shake my head clear of any further thoughts.
We head for the water, soft smiles on our faces, as the sun starts to rise over the horizon. The grit of the sand between my toes is welcome and familiar and I feel more at home than I have in a long time. The sky fills with reds and oranges, making my heart swell in my chest. I’m a sunrise girl, no contest, especially when I’m sitting on my board to catch it.
The paddle out is brisk and invigorating. If I wasn’t fully awake already, I am now, and there’s a peacefulness that comes with the waves lapping around my ankles. I haven’t been prioritizing this enough, and I didn’t realize just how much I missed it. As the three of us go wave for wave, I can finally admit to myself why. It stopped being as majestic when it was just me out here—alone.
Jaz might have a point about me not letting anyone into my life beyond surface-level. Even my friends from work don’t know me all that well. I don’t keep in touch with anyone from my childhood. As far as family goes, well, aren’t they the reason I’ve held myself back all these years? For fear of trusting someone and then having that trust broken. My mind reels as I continue to bob in the water.
Watching the comfortable friendship unfurl between Wes and Breck, I feel slightly envious of how easy it is for them. Neither of them seems to have any issue letting me in, to be a part of their jokes, their conversation. They immediately make friends with the other surfers out here, and I wonder if I could be that easygoing with people if I wasn’t so scared all the time.
Oddly enough, it seems easier with Wes than it’s ever been with anyone else. I’m even starting to think Breck could be a good friend. As I sit and circle my feet in the cold water, looking toward the shore, observing my city, I decide it might finally be time to set that fear aside and open myself up a little.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Wes
Rory
You’ve been gone a whole month… Do you even look the same?
I require photographic evidence.
Okay, fine, I’ll accept FaceTime. I need proof of life.
Me
Did we or did we not talk last week? I’ll send you an email when I get back to the office… but it may not be the kind of photographic evidence you want. Just try not to freak out, ok?
Rory
WES??????
I laugh as I slip my phone back into my pocket. Rory is going to absolutely lose her shit when she sees the video from this morning’s flight—seeing as I wasn’t the one flying but the one jumping. Today was my first tandem skydive with Orion, Breck’s top jump instructor, and it was exhilarating. I may not be a fighter pilot anymore, but I’m still an adrenaline junkie, and it was such a rush to take that plunge. The initial burst of nerves followed by the feeling of absolute freedom as we flew through the sky was indescribable.
I was anxious about it initially, worried it might cause flashbacks to the crash, but I was surprised to find it almost cathartic. To fall from that plane and land safely, it’s like it rewrote whole pathways in my brain, mending some of the unresolved pain from that day. It also helped that Orion was the one landing us, so I was able to keep my legs up and my knee protected.
Today’s jump was a celebration of sorts. Now that I’ve completed the requisite number of flights as a co-pilot, I can finally fly solo next week. I haven’t felt this at ease in my career in a long time. Flying for the Navy was thrilling, but there was always a ton of pressure: another qualification to get, another flight to lead, someone to mentor… It was rare that I got to fly for the fun of flying, and clearly I was missing out. The energy emanating off people who want to jump out of airplanes for a thrill is off the charts, contagious even.
I’m still vibrating with adrenaline when I pull up to the office. Jumping out of my company truck, I break into a jog, ready to upload the footage from the camera Orion attached to my helmet.I feed the SD card into my laptop and attach the files to an email, trying not to imagine what Rory’s face will look like when she sees them. We’ve been struggling to connect since I’ve been here. The nineteen-hour time difference is really cramping our usual style of constant texting and GIF sending.
