Page 40 of Nathan

She twists to face me. “Where are we going?”

I tap my nose and repeat, “Get your sneakers on. It’s Saturday, and we’re spending the day together. You’re seeing your mom tomorrow, and I won’t have a spare minute before Thursday, so stop defying me, otherwise I’ll put you over my knee and make sure you can’t sit down for a week.”

She pouts and flounces off, leaving me smiling at her retreating back. She is fucking adorable. I’m definitely keeping her, at least for now. Is my record three or four dates? I’m not known for longevity in my relationships—if they can even be called that—but Dexter Nolan has piqued my interest. These past three weeks have been a revelation.

She finishes tying her shoelaces. “Do I need anything else?”

“Yep, a hat. And sunscreen.”

She dons a baseball cap that has I might be small, but I’m ballsy stitched on the front, and slots a tube of sunscreen in the front pocket of her shorts.

“Okay, ready.”

I flick the peak. “Apt.”

She grins. “I know, right?”

The traffic is hideous, and it takes me an hour to reach Santa Monica pier. During the entire journey, Dex chatters excitedly about everything she wants to see in New York. Despite my dread about the upcoming visit, I have to admit her enthusiasm is infectious. I instinctively know the trip back east won’t be nearly as bad with her by my side.

I park as close to the pier as I can, then after pulling on my own baseball cap, I grab a pair of shades and take Dex’s hand. Five minutes later, I stop outside the bicycle rental shop.

“Excellent,” she says with a wide grin. “I want to do this in New York, around Central Park, although I haven’t ridden a bike since I was a kid.”

“Then, this’ll be good practice for you,” I reply.

“Where are we going?” she asks once I’ve paid the rental and we’ve both been sized up for bikes.

“The Strand. We’ll cycle down to Redondo Beach, stop for some lunch, then cycle back.”

Her brow crinkles. “That’s pretty far.”

I shrug. “Forty miles or so, give or take. It’s flat, though, so you’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but as we set off down the path, with the beach communities on our left, and the sun twinkling on the surface of the Pacific Ocean on our right, she seems to forget her worries about the distance.

I point out a few sights along the way, and we stop for a few minutes at Huntington Beach to watch the surfers and drink some water.

“Can you surf?” Dex asks.

I nod. “I learned when I first moved out here. For Californians, it’s kind of a religion. I’m nowhere near as good as the locals who started surfing as soon as they could walk, but I can hold my own. I’ll teach you if you like?”

She shakes her head. “No way. I don’t like open water. I like to be able to touch the bottom.”

I toss my empty water bottle in the recycling trash can. “Why don’t you like open water?”

Her gaze shutters, and she looks out to sea. A gust of wind blows her hair across her face, momentarily hiding her from view. She tucks it behind her ear. “When I was nine, I almost drowned.”

I step closer to her and rest my hand on the small of her back. “What happened?”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I followed my sister and her friends to a lake not far from our house. Mom had strictly forbidden me to go swimming there, saying I was too young. Obviously, I ignored her.” She glances up with a wry grin. “I wasn’t the best-behaved child.”

“Shocker,” I say.

She laughs, the darkness which had momentarily clouded her features receding.

“Anyhow, I spotted Elva and her friends splashing about and having fun, so I jumped in and started swimming toward them. My legs got caught up in some reeds. Elva saved my life. It’s one of the reasons we’re so close. I love her to bits.” She shakes her head. “I don’t like to think about it very much. So, yeah, no open water for me.”

Despite the distressing story, envy curls deep within me. I used to have that kind of relationship with my brothers, and if I let them in, I could have it again, but I can’t take the risk. By staying away, I limit the chances of dropping my guard and spilling what I know. That’s the worst thing I could do. To destroy my brothers so heartlessly… no. Better for them to think I’m a brooding, miserable asshole than to risk telling them the truth.

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