Page 4 of Catch a Wave

Her golden brown eyes pierce right through me.

Mavs moves a little and her crutch pivots, sending her toppling toward me.

I reach out on instinct, cupping her elbow in my hand, my other hand grasping her waist.

The first words to come to mind fly out before I give myself a chance to think of what to say. I’ve dreamt of this moment for years. Then I trained myself to release that dream.

Here we finally are, and all I can think to say is, “What are you doing here?”

3

KALAINE

It is so strange, to encounter an ex.

It’s as if you’re in a foreign film, and what you’re saying face-to-face has nothing to do with the subtitles flowing beneath you.

~ Jodi Picoult

“What are you doing here?” We both blurt the words at one another simultaneously.

Bodhi.

The man broke my heart and wrecked me in more ways than that wave at Mavericks did a month ago. Ironic: the nickname Bodhi gave me became the place to nearly take me to my death.

What is Bodhi doinghere?

And why didn’t Kai tell me Bodhi was on Marbella Island?

His hand is still on my elbow, steadying me. I pull back, wobbling again. For a woman who makes her living balancing on a board on water, I can’t seem to find my equilibrium these days. Some of my unsteadiness is the aftermath of the concussion. My one-legged status doesn’t help. Most of what’s throwing me is the man standing in front of me, his shoulder-length, brownwavy hair bleached with surfer-blond streaks that tell me he’s been living in the sunshine again. He smiles that smile—the one that won my heart. The one that haunted my dreams. The one I worked so hard to forget.

Some pieces of the past become so deeply embedded in the heart and mind, woven in like an original thread. Everything about Bodhi feels familiar, from the cleft in his chin, hiding just beneath a little scruff that tells me he didn’t bother to shave this morning, to his nearly shoulder-length brown hair held back by a bandana, to the piercing gray-blue eyes pinned on me right now. His hands fit my waist and elbow like an old pair of slippers, the ones you ought to throw out, but you keep hanging on to because you’ve broken them in just right.

I thought I had moved on. I believed I was over him. I foolishly assumed we would never see one another again. But here he is, looking tan, rugged, windblown, and giving me that look that always undoes me. I used to love the way he made me feel lightheaded and disarmed. Right now, I just want him out of my brother’s house so I can settle in.

We both start to answer simultaneously.

“I live here,” Bodhi says.

I blurt, “I’m moving in,” my words tumbling over Bodhi’s.

“You … what? You live on Marbella Island?” I ask, certain I heard him wrong.

“You’re moving in? Here?” Bodhi answers me with a look of confusion mirroring my own, only he’s smiling and I’m so, so not.

“Where do you live?” The crutch bears into my armpit, a tangible reminder of everything I’ve lost, including the gorgeous man standing across the threshold of my brother’s house from me.

“Here.”

“You said that, but here where?”

“Are you asking to see my bedroom, Mavs? That’s moving a little fast, don’t you think?” He teases me, but his eyes are soft. And, wait.Whaaaat? His bedroom is … here? As in,this house?

I tilt back to double check the address number.

Thirty-two. That’s what Kai said.

“This is it.” Bodhi smiles softly. “My place. Well, Kai’s and mine.”

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