Page 29 of Summer Love

I prop the book on the living room windowsill, pull my glove back on, and get back to work.

CHAPTER 11

Jace

Three hours earlier…

The water’s cold. Fifty-four, fifty-five degrees maybe. In the first few seconds my muscles seize, my breathing speeds up. Then my body adjusts. All that’s left is the clean bite of the ocean, strong enough to drown out everything else. Exactly what I need.

I’ve been surfing alone for half an hour. The lineup’s empty. Just the water, the sky, and me. The sun just broke the horizon. Crescent Beach is still quiet—nobody on the sand, nobody in the water.

This morning, stepping out of the trailer, I looked at the Hayes house. The downstairs shutters were open for the first time in six years. And upstairs, a light snapped off.

I didn’t look up a second time. I grabbed my board and went out.

Except I’ve been paddling for thirty minutes, catching waves, wearing myself out trying to drown what’s eating at me—and it’s still there. Her blue eyes. Her blonde hair. That fucking “Jace” out of her mouth like it cost her something to say it.

Stop.

I paddle toward the next set. The wetsuit clings to my skin. My arms burn.

Paddle, wait, read the wave, stand up.

A figure appears on my left. Longboard, paddling a little stiff, careful posture. Luke. He sets up near the shore, on the small inside waves. He watches the ocean instead of trusting it.

I move closer—what I do every time he comes out. We’ve never said it out loud, but that’s how it’s been since his accident. He surfs, I keep watch.

Kai shows up soon after, his long black hair tied low. His paddling is calm, precise. Today, instead of heading outside, he stays inside with us.

Sitting on our boards, legs in the cold water, the three of us wait for the next set.

“Summer came by the Market yesterday,” Luke says, not looking at me.

He stares at the horizon, hands flat on his board.

“I screwed up. At first I didn’t recognize her.”

I clench my fists.

“She took it pretty hard, I think. I apologized after, but it was too late.”

I don’t answer.

“I remember she used to hang around with us in the summer,” Luke goes on. “Beach bonfires, the skatepark, jumping off the pier... I know she was there. But her face... it’s a blur.”

He runs a hand through his wet curls.

“Did she really matter?”

Twelve summers. One night that changed everything. A girl who wrecked me when she left. And Luke asking if she mattered.

I paddle for my next wave.

“Interesting,” Kai says from his board.

I don’t turn around. The wave comes, I stand up, and I stop thinking about anything.

Luke gets out first—the store opens at eight. Kai follows close behind, heading for the surf school yard to set up the gear. I stay out alone, catching the last waves of the set.