Page 29 of Spring Tide

“I’m tired of watching your mouth move,” he grumbles. “Get outta here.”

The rain gathers steam as I hobble away from the pier. Warm, fat droplets fall from the clouds, pooling in my hair and slipping down the sides of my face. My feet drag, knee twitching as I yank the door closed on my old Subaru. Right in time, too, as rainwater pelts down in heavy torrents against my windshield.

After a full day of late summer heat, this downpour is as predictable and cyclic as the tides. It’s hurricane season, after all, but it doesn’t mean I have to tolerate the interruption.

My head tilts back against the headrest, eyes squeezing shut as I take a deep breath. The rain has mixed and melded with the dry sand, filtering in through my nose with every tiny puff of air. It’s a syrupy, earthy scent that serves to piss me off.

Rainstorms always coincide with an atmospheric drop, meaning the soft tissues in my knee have begun to swell. It’s a surefire way to prolong my inextricable pain. And if I wasn’t certain before, now I know the universe is actively conspiring against me.

I allow sixty full seconds of self-pity before I dig my phone out.

“Luca!” Harper answers on the first ring, her voice a familiar chipper tone. “Hi, how are you?”

“Just fine,” I mutter, the phrase absentmindedly leaving my mouth. “Actually, I fell at work and tweaked my knee. I know we’re not supposed to meet again until next week, but I was wondering if I could come over tonight?”

“Oh, no,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry, Luca. I can’t have you over tonight.”

“Right, of course not.” A pit in my stomach hollows out. “It’s fucking Friday night, I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll just—”

“No, silly, I just meant ... could I come to your place instead?”

“What?”

“I promised Stella and Lai’Lani they could have the apartment to themselves. I was actually just headed out for a bite to eat.”

My shoulders relax, a sigh of relief filtering through my lips. “Oh, okay.”

“So, is that alright, then? I’ll come to yours?”

“I mean ... uh,” I sputter, racking my brain. I have no clue how long it’s been since I last cleaned. I think my bed is made, and my laundry is done, at the very least. “Yeah, that’d be fine.”

“I’m just gonna grab some tacos on the way,” she says happily. “Would you like me to pick up some extra?”

The pit in my stomach groans at the thought, a sudden reminder that I haven’t eaten since this morning. “I, uh, I’m not hungry.”

“You just got off work, didn’t you? I’m sure you’re at least a little bit hungry. I’ll pick you up some chorizo and egg,” she rambles on. “Those are my favorite.”

“That’s really not nec—”

“You said you live with your sister, right? Does she like tacos? If she’s vegetarian, they have cactus and potato as an option. I could also just pick a big variety.”

“We’re good, Harper,” I protest, the grumble in my stomach growing louder. “We don’t need any tacos. Taylor’s probably out tonight, anyway.”

“If you say so.” Her tone is flippant, dismissively cheerful. “Text me the address, and I can be there in about thirty if that works?”

“It works.”

“See you soon!”

* * *

I speedhome through the rainstorm, my twenty-year-old Outback sputtering and hydroplaning through the newly formed puddles. By the time I make it back, I only have about five minutes left to spare. Of course, Bentley comes crashing into the living room to greet me—no signs of his mother in sight.

My palm runs through his silky fur, scratching behind his ears. Content, he trots behind me, panting and slobbering as I rush around the house. My swollen joints continue to ache and groan. Ignoring the pain, I toss the trash out back, stuff a few dishes into the wash, and wipe down the dining table.

The kitchen is my top priority at the moment since Harper might need a clean spot to eat her tacos.

When the doorbell finally sounds, I take one last look around the empty house. I suppose it’s presentable enough for an outsider. There are no obvious messes or stains or discarded items lying around, but I wish I had a few more minutes to tidy up. If it wasn’t immediately obvious, I’m not used to having visitors.

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