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When he’d accidentally-on-purpose brushed her elbow in his weight room, she’d been so startled she almost stumbled. She’d banished him from his own house right after. He wondered if she’d been thinking of kissing him then. He’d been thinking of kissing her. He could hardly look at her tight little rear in those spandex capris without wondering what it would be like to peel them off her. But that would, of course, be breaking rule number three. Some rules were meant to be broken. Besides, could she blame him for breaking the rule if she was the one begging him to break it?
He couldn’t help but inwardly laugh at the thought. How much would he love that? The victory would be too sweet. He’d get to have her and prove to her that her silly rule didn’t make a difference one way or the other.
Kai still didn’t believe sex was his problem when it came to surfing.
Granted, he had to admit that the meditation and the yoga had been helping his state of mind. And the fact that he’d given up alcohol had allowed him to focus more. He had no doubt about that. In just a week, Jun had helped him feel stronger, healthier and more like his old self.
He jogged by the crystal-blue Pacific, sparkling under a clear blue sky, and watched the waves crash at the break at the reef about a half mile out. Foam burst up in the air as the waves rolled through.
But you haven’t been out there yet. You haven’t been on a board since the last wipeout. What does any of this matter if you can’t get on a board?
It was true. His board hung unused on the wall in his garage, mocking him. Jun hadn’t pushed him to go out—yet. But she’d been hinting that was coming soon. She called his first week a “detox” week and said that he’d be better equipped to tackle waves after his body had gotten used to his new regimen. Secretly, he’d been relieved. He was in no hurry to get back on the board. And that very thought scared him more than anything else.
You’re scared, and you should be. You’ve got no business being on that board, and you know it.
No matter how he tried to shake it, the doubt was always there. And the minute he thought it, he felt a twinge in his weak knee. He stopped running, worried that he’d hurt it. Gingerly, he began walking at a slow pace, wondering when his knee would feel strong again, whole. When would it not feel like a flimsy rubber band?
Distantly, out on shore, he swore he saw a bright flash of an orange kayak. Was that Bret Jon? His old tow partner?
Kai stopped and squinted, trying to make him out. No, of course that wasn’t Bret. Just some guy who had a similar kayak. Bret lived on Maui now. He’d flown to the Big Island only at Kirk’s request, probably under some pretense Kirk made up, and he was probably long home by now. Kai should call him, but he knew Bret wouldn’t answer. It would be one more call sent directly to voice mail.
The last time he and Bret surfed together had been six months ago, just after the doctors cleared him for surfing. He’d decided to go for it on Pe’ahi.
Pe’ahi—Jaws to the locals—broke on the north side of Maui. This wasn’t regular old surfing. This was being towed by a Jet Ski into waves upward of fifty feet. Extreme surfing in the most dangerous way. They called it Jaws because it was as unpredictable as a shark attack and just as deadly.
Kai had thought he’d been ready. Bret had had his doubts.
“You sure you wanna do this man?” Bret had said, shaking his head as he glanced at the roaring waves. “You’ve been hitting tourist beaches, and I don’t know that you’re ready for this.”
“I’m ready.” The more Bret told him he wasn’t ready, the more Kai thought he was. Kai had always been stubborn. After all, it was that stubbornness that fueled his determination to risk his life surfing waves never really meant to be surfed in the first place. Bret had said dozens of times that big-wave surfers were born, not made, so he should’ve known it was just something in Kai’s blood.
He’d fallen a few times on regular pipes, but Jaws would force him to surf or it would knock him down. Either way, he’d get the kick in the butt he’d thought he’d needed at the time. Kai had been thinking only of himself. He knew that now. He hadn’t considered he’d be putting his tow partner at risk when he came barreling in on the Jet Ski to save him if he busted it. He and Bret had ridden together so much, had worked together seamlessly for years, and Bret was even more of a risk taker, an adrenaline junkie, than Kai was. And he was good at it. Kai had always told Bret he didn’t expect to be saved, but he should’ve known by then that Bret was always going to try.
