Page 69 of The Surfer

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RIPLEY

I haveto pull Cove from the water. He’s conscious, but weak, his eyes fluttering as he recovers from the shock of the fall. His body’s soft and delicate as I pull him from the surface of the water, nothing like the normal Cove I’m used to.

He was struggling to stand up when I found him in the ocean.

A moment earlier he was standing on his teenage surfboard, victorious, and now he’s not even able to swim.

Please be okay.

I didn’t even have time to react to him falling off his board when I rushed into the water to help him.

I take him out from the waves, wrapping his arm around my shoulders, lifting him up, and helping him limp out of the shallows and onto the safe sand of the beach. His weight is heavy on me as he staggers out of the rough ocean.

He’s hurt.

“It’s okay,” he says between shallow breaths as we stumble back to the beach. “I can do this on my own, Ripley. Let me go.”

His voice is weak and tired. He can barely breathe.

I know he can’t actually walk on his own. Despite what he says, he can barely stand by himself, let alone use his legs. He’s still recovering from the shock of that fall. I have to help him, but his arrogant pride is trying to get in the way. He needs my help, but he’s not prepared to ask for it.

Typical Cove.

We reach the sand.

We’ve made it out of the ocean.

We’re okay.

Cove tries wriggling out from my hold the moment our feet are no longer in the water and I try to stop him knowing he’ll only fall if he tries to walk on his own.

He’s too full of pride to let me carry him.

“You’re hurt,” I say as he attempts to get away from me and stand on his own.

“Stop carrying me, Ripley. I’m okay, I can do this by myself.” Cove’s voice is full of bubbling anger.

Anger at me.

Anger that I’m the one carrying him out of the water.

Anger at me for helping him.

Fine then, have it your way.

I’m not doing this if he’s going to bark at me like that.

I let go of him and he stumbles onto the sand. He doesn’t want to show weakness in front of me no matter what, no matter how much I’m trying to help him. Can’t he see it’s me here trying to help? No one else? Can’t he trust me?

I’ll do anything for you, Cove. Anything.

“You’re hurt, Cove. Maybe I should call an ambulance.”

“Don’t,” he commands sternly. He looks up at me with his blue eyes, his face full of nothing but anger. “Don’t call an ambulance, Ripley. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”