Page 71 of Riptide

She comes out into the lounge, wiping her hands on a tea towel, coughing through a laugh. “Your dad set fire to the roast potatoes again.”

“They’re not on fire,” Dad argues from the kitchen. “Just extra crispy.”

Mom snorts, finally managing to reset the smoke alarm with the jab of a button. She turns to us all sitting in the living room area. “It’s so nice to have my babies together for the holidays. I’m pretty sure I see Daphne more than you, Finn, and she doesn’t live at home.”

“Finn’s beenbusy,” my sister says with a pointed look.

“Busy?” Mom asks, not getting the inuendo, and thank god for that.

“She’s talking about the night classes and looking after Rosie.”

“Ah yes, I know you’re all working so hard.”

“Plus, all that extra credit you’ve been working on, Finny,” Hudson says from the floor, and Daphne stifles a laugh.

I widen my eyes, staring at them both, moving my thumb across my neck in a slicing motion to tell them they’re dead.

“Well, I didn’t know about the extra credit, but that sounds great, honey.”

Daphne makes another amused noise, but our mother doesn’t pick up on the not-so-subtleness of my sister and her boyfriend, just keeps her attention on me. “Thanks, Mom.”

“And how’s Rosie’s teething coming along?”

“We have one snaggle tooth so far, but no more. Loads of dribbling though.” Hudson replies, looking up from where he’s making Rosie’s Jumparoo—without instructions, I might add—and he softens. “Look at my girls,” he murmurs grinning to himself. “So damn cute.”

Mom takes in the scene too and smiles like her chest might burst. “I’ll take the quiet, the noise and the burnt potatoes, all of it to have this time with you all.”

I know exactly what she means when her hand finds mine and squeezes. I’m meant to be here, even if that means I’m not the same person I was last Christmas.

There’s so much love in the room, it feels like it might spill over. I didn’t know how much I needed that until now, how much I missed it without even realizing. And Rosie, somehow, has become the center of it all. This little person who doesn’t even know what she’s given us.

It hits me all at once, how much has changed. A year ago, I was chasing waves in a different time zone, keeping everyone at arm’s length and convincing myself I liked it that way because surfing mattered so much to me. Now I’m here, in a living room full of mismatched decorations, and I’m the one Daphne trusts to hold her baby when she needs five minutes to breathe. I’m the one Rosie always reaches for when she wakes up from a nap, confused and pouty. I’m the one who gets to be part of this.

It’s overwhelming in the best way.

Especially when I catch myself scanning the room and noticing who’s not in it. Not because he should be, since we never met each other’s families. But traveling together and competing alongside one another can be lonely and the bonds you build are life long and strong. Jared never saw this part of my world, but he did see the parts I was most passionate about. He rode waves right there with me when I was at my best and my worst. It makes me wonder what he’d think if he saw me now. How he’d feel is he knew how much of our friendship I carry with me. The people who shape us aren’t always the ones who stay. But some leave an imprint that remains, whether we mean to carry it or not.

My mind shifts to Foxx, and I wonder if he would like this. He doesn’t talk about his family much, and I make a mental note to ask at some point, but maybe it’s intentional. My sudden need to hear his voice overwhelms me, so I pull out my phone and sneakout onto the back porch. It’s bright out here, crisp and cold, the kind of air that makes your lungs chill. I dial before I can talk myself out of it.

It rings once. Twice. Then his face fills the screen, and I forget for a second that it’s freezing.

“Hey,” he says quietly, that sexy, gruff voice vibrating through the speaker. “Merry Christmas.” He slips his glasses off, and I think I forget how to breathe for a second. I’m also ninety-five percent sure I have a glasses kink now thanks to him. Really, it’s stupid how much that does to me.

His hair’s messy, like he’s been lying down. There’s a pillow crease on his cheek, and something about that undoes me a little too.

I smile back at him, clinging onto composure the best way I can. “Merry Christmas to you too. How’s your morning been?”

Foxx angles the camera to show me a sleeping Eugene and Poppy on the couch next to him. “They’ve been fed, so now it’s nap time.”

He gets up and walks into what I recognize as his bedroom, given the light green walls in there.

“How’s your morning been? Has Rosie been spoiled?”

My breath plumes out in front of me. “She has no idea what’s going on. With everything around her, her favorite thing was the shiny wrapping paper.”

“Naturally.” He laughs, lying back onto his bed arm behind his head, those biceps bulging against the material of his sweater.

“Are you wearing a Christmas sweater?” I ask, thinking I catch sight of something embellished on his chest. He angles the camera down to reveal an animated Christmas tree, and laughter bursts from me.

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