Page 85 of Catch a Wave

Kai just nods. “She didn’t leave any info. I figured you knew her. She’s not a local—at least I’ve never seen her around.”

I scan through faces in my brain. I don’t know a Megan.

Bodhi was right.Having a job gives me a sense of purpose. Every morning I wake and walk with him and Shaka to the beach. He asks me to surf. I decline the invitation. Every. Single. Time. It’s a little dance we do. I admire his tenacity. He doesn’t even look frustrated or angry. He’s just quietly relentless, like he knows one day I’ll cave. I’m not sure he’s right, but I wouldn’t trade these mornings for anything. After we get home, I clean up, go to work for a few hours, and then the hardest part of my day kicks in—sitting at home alone with nothing much to do and no sense of the big picture.

One thing has changed in my morning routine. Ever since that day we had the water fight and ended up kissing one another, I do put my feet in the shorepound before Bodhi paddles in from his last wave. I go up to my knees at times, talking to the ocean, telling her how I miss her, but I can’t trust her like I used to. I have this private heart-to-heart, and I don’t even tell Bodhi or Leilani about it. What’s said in those early morning chats remains strictly between me and the sea.

I was never naive about the dangers of my occupation and passion. Surfers know wild animals lurk in the depths, sometimes even the shallows—sharks, jellies, or other sea life. We know we could cut ourselves on a jagged piece of coral or a rocky bottom. When we surf unfamiliar breaks, if the water is at all opaque, we don’t always know the layout of the cove or bay. For big wave surfers, the dangers increase exponentially. We’re risking our lives every ride and we know it.

People call us foolish, addicts, thrill-seekers. I understand those sentiments, even if they don’t capture the heart of why we do what we do.

Even still, something in me always felt like I had a pact with the ocean—a deep love and respect that passed both ways between us. It went something like this: I’ll pour myself into training, and do everything it takes to understand and respect the ocean. In turn, she’ll never harm me.

There’s a difference between getting hurt and being harmed. Hurt heals over time—like my ankle injury. Harm lodges somewhere deep and untouchable. I’m not really sure, even this morning as I stand ankle deep in the shorepound, if I’ve been temporarily set back or if I’ve received the final blow to my relationship with the ocean. Did she hurt me or harm me? Only time will tell.

The irony isn’t lost on me. My feelings for the sea are a mirror for my emotions about Bodhi. I thought we would always be one another’s safe place. I never expected him to hurt me, let alone harm me. And now, we’re kissing and laughing and hanging out every spare minute we get. But we haven’t defined what’s happening or where we’re headed. Aside from Kai’s warning that night in the garage, my brother hasn’t said anything. Bodhi and I keep things detached and friendly around Kai. Until we’re more defined, we don’t need to drag my overprotective brother into the mix.

I know Bodhi wants me. He’s said so a hundred times if he’s said it once. But he’s also trying to hold back while I heal from my accident. I want him too—so much. But I just don’t know.

I lift my eyes and watch as he takes a wave, carving along the face, tipping the nose of his board to rise up and dip again, and then finding the sweet spot in the curl.

He rides it in, which is a little odd, since we’ve barely been out here twenty or thirty minutes tops. Usually he’s in the water at least an hour, especially on a morning where the waves look as perfect and consistent as they do today.

He lifts his board and walks out through the smaller waves near shore, aiming straight for me.

He’s a vision standing in front of me, still knee deep in the water, dripping wet, grinning a roguish smile, hugging his board to his side. His eyes are alight with the thrill of the ride. He’s breathtaking—captivating.

“Come on, Mavs,” he shouts over to me. “The conditions are perfect this morning. The waves couldn’t be more consistent if we secretly hid a machine underwater. And they’re just the right height for a reentry. I promised myself not to push you, but I keep thinking this is your day.”

I start to shake my head.

Shaka runs out into the waves, paddling the last few feet to reach Bodhi.

“He loves it out here,” Bodhi says with a big smile. “Nothing’s going to happen on my watch, Mavs.”

It’s the same promise he made when he was training Shaka. And now the dog will sit on the board while Bodhi takes smaller sets near shore. He’s actually a surf dog. Bodhi called it. It’s more than we could ask for. A small voice nudges,even the dog surfs.

I’ve always been known for the way I go with the flow. But people who know me well know how driven I am—and competitive. I’m not going to be out-surfed by my stray dog.

Bodhi walks the rest of the way out of the water toward me and Shaka trails behind him, shaking his fur when he reaches the sand.

“Okay,” I say in a voice I’m sure only I hear.

“Okay?” Bodhi whoops. “Oh, yeah! I was right! This is your day! I knew it.”

“Calm down, you’ll scare the fish.”

“Right. No scaring anyone. Let’s get you suited up.”

Bodhi nearly vibrates with excitement while we walk from the shore to the watersports shack. Shaka seems to sense the weight of my decision. He trots along beside us with what looks like a full smile on his face. My stomach is in knots, but I’m also eager. I know how to surf. My body is healed. There’s no physical reason I can’t do this. Still, it’s like I’m about to take on Sydney’s Cape Solander, the giant slab of a wave that ends on a jagged, shallow reef shelf. If that wave doesn’t take you, the landing will remind you why those waves were never intended for pleasure. But surfers ride there. Come to think of it, maybe we are actually a bit crazy.

“You okay?” Bodhi’s eyes fill with concern as we walk up the steps and he opens the wetsuit locker to pull out a women’s suit in my size.

I nod. “This is never going to be easy.”

“You never were one for easy. That’s not who you are. So, go grab a bikini off the rack and get suited up. Let’s go have some fun in the water.”

I know what he’s doing, and I appreciate it more than I can say, so I do as I’m told. When I come out the shop’s back door, Bodhi’s holding a longer board than I would have chosen. Longboards are sturdy. You can’t really do tricks on them unless you work it hard in the right conditions, but they’re steady—like the crash-test approved minivan of the surfing world. Yeah. I’mabout to ride a mom-car in the water when I’ve been used to high-performance sports cars.

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