Page 3 of Finding Love

He and Willy had spent almost three hours enjoying the massive waves that crashed on the quiet secluded beach.

In all the time they’d been there, they hadn’t seen another soul. Which, in his book, made it a perfect spot to enjoy the waves while he plotted his return.

Willy, for his part, enjoyed riding on the front of his surfboard as he paddled out. It was mid-spring, and the water was cold enough that Ryder had on one of his wetsuits. He’d gotten Willy a life vest, which he made him wear all the time. Willy had gained a little weight since Ryder had picked the vest up which meant that it was time for him to get the next size up.

French bulldogs were stocky to begin with, and Willy a mix of French bulldog and mutt. He’d been just a puppy when he’d found him. No doubt his mixed lineage was the reason behind being dumped instead of sold for thousands of dollars. But the last vet Ryder had taken Willy to had assured him that Willy was a healthy weight.

He heard and felt the storm growing closer and building stronger behind them but guessed that they had enough time for a few runs. He knew he was pushing it, but since it was his last day, he didn’t care.

“Here we go,” he told Willy as they caught the next wave. The dog moved up into position as Ryder paddled to join the wave, become one with it. When he popped up on the board, Willy moved to stand at the front of the board, letting the wind flop his tongue and his short pointy ears around.

Willy loved to surf, and whenever they’d surfed together on crowded California beaches, they’d always attracted a crowd. Which is why they were now hiding out in a small town in Oregon. He didn’t like prying eyes.

He sank down on the board in the water when the wave died and turned the board back around.

The dark sky had gotten a lot closer. Still, he calculated that it was about half an hour away. One last wave.

His stomach growled as he paddled back out, and he suddenly realized that he’d skipped lunch again.

“One more wave, then we find ourselves some dinner,” he told Willy, who happily barked as he paddled them back out to catch the last wave of the day. Possibly the last wave they’d catch in a very long time.

By the time a good wave finally came, it was almost too dark to see the shore. Damn, he’d lost track of the storm.

He knew that sharks fed at dusk and being out on the water during a storm was quite possibly the worst place to be. He wasn’t so concerned about himself, but if they fell into the water, Willy was snack sized.

“Here we go,” he told Willy, who got into position. Ryder paddled and, this time, the wave took them before he was really ready. Still, he was able to control the board. Instead of popping up quickly, he stood up slowly, cautiously. Willy moved to the front like he normally did, only at that moment, the board jerked to the side and the whole thing got away from him.

He hit the water, and the board popped back up towards him and smacked into his chin. He saw stars and, for a brief moment, his entire life flashed before his eyes.

Shit. Willy.

His dog was an excellent swimmer, and he knew the moment he hit the water he was to either find Ryder and the board or head towards shore.

As a wave pulled Ryder under the water, he thought about what there was worth fighting for as he used all of his strength to try to surface. To fight for air.

He hadn’t really done anything worthwhile. He’d been pampered and handed everything he’d ever wanted and, instead of enjoying it, he’d complained about the one thing he knew that he could never have. Someone that loved him. Someone to love.

He should have sought it out with others. Hunted the elusive feeling that he’d never gotten in his relationship with his father. There had to be someone on this big blue marble who would love him for who he was and not for his position or wealth.

All he’d done was conform to his father’s wishes. He’d even allowed the man to dictate who he would spend the rest of his life with.

The woman his father had picked for him had been even colder than the old man himself. Yet Ryder had jumped at the chance to pursue Edith because it was what his father had wanted. It hadn’t hurt that she was one of the most famous women that he’d ever been with.

Edith Montague, of the New England Montagues, was a household name thanks to her family and a reality show that had run for many years.

Their relationship had granted him a sliver of her fame. While they’d been together, he’d been offered several movie deals. Acting had never been a dream of his, but he was good at it, and it had been fun for a while.

Almost a year after Ryder and Edith had been connected as the “it” couple, his father had arranged for them to take a trip. His dad had arranged for a romantic stay at a resort and had placed his grandmother’s wedding ring in Ryder’s bag. The moment he’d found it, Ryder had known instantly what his father wanted from him. The strange thing was, he hadn’t even balked at the thought of marrying someone who was almost a complete stranger, an ice queen, which is how he’d thought of Edith at that time.

Now, as the water swirled around him and he sucked in a mouthful of salt water, he felt disgusted by his past actions. He kicked and fought for purchase, only to flail around like an idiot in the powerful surf.

A whirlpool of water pulled him deeper into the blackness, until he was sure there was no coming back.

All of the air left his lungs, and he accepted his new fate. His entire body relaxed at the realization that this was really the end. This was how James Ryder Gallant died. Would anyone even care?

There wasn’t anyone waiting for him back home. Not really. The only ones who cared only did so because they were waiting for their share of the handout they believed was coming.

Who would take care of Willy?