Page 72 of What You Wish For

He was covered in sand, and when we landed, there was anotherspray of it. I squeezed my eyes closed, and in the background, I heard Jake say, “Did Duncan just tackle somebody?”

“Yes,” Helen answered. “His work colleague.”

Then Jake said, “That’s a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

I opened my eyes, and there was Duncan, backlit by the sky, looking straight down at me. “You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said.

We hesitated there for a second, the wind fluttering the hair over his forehead, and I felt suddenly so elated that I didn’t have to be mad at him anymore. Or, at least, notasmad.

“Close your eyes,” Duncan said then.

“Why?” I said, but I closed them. For one crazy second, I thought he might be about to kiss me—there in front of his family, and God, and the whole Gulf of Mexico.

But the next thing I felt wasn’t his mouth on mine—it was the tips of his fingers, brushing sand off my cheekbone. “Keep ’em tight,” he said.

I squeezed them tighter.

“Notthattight.”

I tried to relax.

“Man, you got sand all over the place.”

“Um,” I said, eyes still closed. “Yougot sand all over the place.”

“True enough.” Then he was quiet as he brushed my hairline, my forehead, my chin, and my ears. The softness of it was a stark contrast from getting tackled, I’ll say that. At one point, Chuck Norris tried to come over and lick us, but Helen snapped his leash on pretty quick and walked him over to Jake to hold.

Then, Duncan paused. After I hadn’t felt his touch for a few seconds, I opened my eyes.

He was looking at me, like there was something he wanted to say.

Finally, his eyes crinkled in a wry way, and he said, in a faux-scold, “Be more careful next time.”

“You be more careful.”

That’s when Duncan looked up and saw his sister and brother-in-lawwatching us intently. “Sorry about that,” he said then. “I was aiming for my sister.” And at the word “sister,” he launched himself up and went chasing her off down the beach.

I sat up.WasI fine? I took an inventory.

Fine enough, I decided.

I stood up to brush myself off and noticed that Jake had put his aviators back on and was doing the same. I walked a little closer to him. “They have a love-hate thing,” Jake said, still brushing. “In a good way. Most of the time.”

The girls took off running after their mom and uncle, and then Chuck Norris, wrenching the leash out of Jake’s hand, took off after them like a blur.

“He’s chasing them?” Jake asked.

“Do you want me to go after him?” I asked.

“Nah.”

I watched him run, his gray fur undulating with each leap. “Chuck Norris is the worst security dog in the world.”

“That makes sense,” Jake said. “He failed out of training school for ‘overexuberance.’”

“That sounds about right.”

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