Page 146 of Surfer's Paradise

Another beat of silence.

“Rosalie’s thing?” Tom asked.

Isaac nodded again, staring out at the street.

“She’s come a long way,” Tom said quietly. “We’re proud of her. She stops by now and then. Checks in on your mom.”

Isaac didn’t answer.

Tom shifted, elbow on his knee, his voice low. “She used to sit right there. You two with your Walkman, one earbud each. Laughing like a couple of idiots. Playing those burned CDs—what was that girl band?”

Isaac cracked a smile. “Hole.”

“Right.” Tom smiled faintly. “She was like our fourth kid.”

“She didn’t have anywhere else to go,” Isaac muttered, eyes on the dead lawn.

“She had us.”

That landed. Hard.

Isaac leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I think I fucked it up.”

Tom didn’t say anything.

“She didn’t want me there,” Isaac said.

Tom gave that a long, quiet pause. Then: “You’re used to being enough just by showing up.”

Isaac looked at him.

“Look,” Tom said. “You’ve always been like this. Driven. Focused. Bullheaded. And Rosalie’s always known how to let you be all those things. But now?” He took another drink. “She doesn’t need you like she used to.”

Isaac swallowed hard.

“I remember the night her mom died,” Tom went on. “She showed up here with a bloody t-shirt and no shoes on. Her house was a crime scene. Mom gave her clean pajamas, made up the guest bed. You sat on the floor beside her until she stopped crying.”

Isaac nodded slowly. That memory was burned into him. He’d promised her he would never let anyone hurt her. And he stayed up, watching over her all night.

“She clung to you like you were the last good thing in the world,” Tom said.

“She’s not that girl anymore.”

“No,” Tom agreed. “She’s a woman now. And not just any woman. She’s building something. A name. A future. And you? You gotta figure out if you’re gonna be beside her… or in the way.”

Isaac bristled. “I’m not trying to control her.”

Tom watched him.

After a minute, Tom added, “You can’t just show up, Isaac. Not unless you’re willing to stay. Not unless you’re okay just standing beside her while she wins.”

Isaac ran a hand over his face. His ribs ached. His chest ached worse. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Women aren’t puzzles, son.”

“She doesn’t trust my intentions,” he said.

“Then prove her wrong.”

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