Page 148 of Deliverance

I take a couple of steps forward and survey the interior. It’s very simple. Neat. Clean. Soft cream-colored carpet. Matching walls. A chair. A couple of framed family photographs line the top of the massive dresser. A stunning view of the beach. A long sheer curtain covering the slightly open glass panels whispers softly in the wind that’s streaming inside from the deck.

The bed is huge. King size. And I wonder how many other women he’s brought here before.

“Let me give you your present.” Zander disappears into what looks like a bathroom and emerges a few seconds later with a toothbrush in his hand. Still in its original package, a pink bow tied around it.

“Oh my God.” I palm my cheeks, emotions swelling in my chest.

“You shouldn’t have to pack one every time you come over to visit,” he explains, swallowing the distance between us with several confident strides.

I take it from him and inspect it. Not because there’s a lot to inspect, save for the instructions on the back, but because I’m lost for words and grounding my gaze on anything but his eyes seems easier.

This is moving too fast, a small voice in my head says.You’ve known this man for all of two and a half seconds.

But I manage to push the doubts aside.

“I don’t want to crowd you,” Zander continues. “Why don’t I give you some time to unpack and explore on your own while I’m practicing. You can come down and watch me or you can do whatever your heart desires. The kitchen is fully stocked.”

“Is there any part of the house I shouldn’t go to?”

He shakes his head, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. “I’ve got no secrets from you.”

We accidentally skip lunch and end up going out for an early dinner at a restaurant Zander declares serves the best seafood in all of Orange County. We sit on the palm-shaded patio, mere inches from the white beach, and watch the waves rage.

The setting sun has colored the sky into various shades of pink, orange, and red, and the dark has already claimed the eastern horizon when we finally make it down to the beach for a stroll.

The moment we hit the sand, Zander slips off his sneakers and rolls up his jeans, and I follow his lead, gladly losing my sandals. The hem of my skirt touches the cool, shifting floor as we continue on towards the water.

“It helps you ground yourself,” he explains, seizing my free hand. “Walking barefoot. Releases bad energy.”

“I didn’t know that,” I confess, wiggling my toes.

“Probably because you didn’t grow up by the beach.” He pauses for a long moment as we continue our stroll down the coastline, then eventually says, “My dad was a huge nature freak. He loved hiking, kayaking, skiing, skating. We spent a lot of time in Tahoe.”

“That’s where you met Justice?”

“Yeah. His family-owned property in Crystal Bay. I mean, everyone knew The Hales lived nearby. It was common knowledge. Just like everyone knows David Coverdale has been living in Incline Village half of his life.”

“How did you meet?”

“Middle school. My parents were selling our old house and looking for one in Seattle, so we stayed in Tahoe for a few years. The three of us—Justice, me…and Chance—” Zander stops talking again and the roar of the ocean fills the gap between his words while he seems to brace himself for more. His grasp on my hand tightens. “We found each other right away. Justice stood out even then. He refused to cut his hair and one day, he wore a Danzig T-shirt, and our biology teacher insisted he cover the satanic imagery with a jacket the next time he decided to make a fashion statement.” Zander laughs softly as if he’s there, in that particular memory. “I suspected he was Elijah’s nephew. I mean, he had that look on his face. Vicious. Most guys didn’t dare to strike up a conversation unless he started it, but I approached him in the cafeteria anyway and asked if he wanted to get together and jam. And offered my garage. Instead, he invited me to come over to his place. Turned out, he’d already spoken to Chance earlier that day. Spotted his Zakk Wylde hoodie. So that was the beginning of us. Of The Deviant.”

“It must have been nice to pursue your passion with your childhood friends.”

“It was. We just clicked. To this day I can’t explain how. We had tons of ideas and we started writing our own songs, and then in high school, we did gigs at a local club. Black Lagoon. Played covers mostly at first. Plugged one or two originals into the set, and eventually, people warmed up to our stuff.”

Zander quiets, walking in silence until we reach a rock formation jutting out from a small cliff running along the shoreline, slabs of all shapes and sizes slicing into the sand and stretching toward the billowing water.

He guides me over to them and climbs up to settle on top of one that’s just a couple of feet above the ground.

I sit next to him and we put our shoes on a smaller rock behind us.

“Do you come here often?” I ask, staring at the dark horizon.

“Not really.” He rests my hand on his thigh and motions at the crook of the coast to our left. “I surf down there. Couple of miles south.”

“Tell me about it,” I ask, leaning against his muscled shoulder.

“About surfing?”

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