Page 70 of Riptide

He shrugs, taking a long sip from his mug.

A smile works its way onto my face. I set the pen down gently and reach for the slim package I tucked behind the coffeepot this morning, passing it over. “Your turn.”

“So you ignored our agreement too, huh?” He eyes it with suspicion, but takes it anyway. “What is it?”

“Open it and find out.”

He unwraps with zero finesse, ripping at the edges and discarding little pieces around his lap like confetti. It’s a hardcover copy ofThe Secret Garden, old but well-kept, the spine still firm.

Hands resting lightly on the edges of the book, he goes still. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then he clears his throat, shuts it carefully, and sets it down beside his coffee.

“I know it was Greta’s favorite book…”

“You sentimental little shit.” He releases a watery laugh, wiping a tear away.

I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Merry Christmas, Eugene.”

Lifting his mug in response, he clinks it gently against mine. “You too, Foxx.”

***

Finn

As a surprise, my family rented a cabin near Aurora Valley, Hudson’s hometown, so they can see his family too.

On the drive up, we passed The Den, the bar where Foxx and I first met all those weeks ago, and even though the memory had me smiling to myself, I didn’t say anything. There was something about keeping that moment as mine alone that made me feel a little giddy and miss him a lot more than I’d ever admit. Well,admit to anyone else but him, because I texted him to tell him as much. God, I’m a needy fucker.

We’re spending eight days here. So, right up until January first. Mom and Dad said we are all free to leave, but there’s something about all of us being together again that’s nostalgic, so we all agree to stay, with the exception of Hudson and Daphne making time for his family too.

“Now she’s sleeping,” my sister says quietly to not wake Rosie laying on her. “How are your night classes going?”

“Pretty good,” I reply, setting down the book that Foxx lent me by his favorite mystery author. “I’m at a point where I need to figure out what to do with the classes for next semester.”

“Have you been inspired to take more classes?” Daphne asks.

“Just the minimum right now. English composition, physiology and anatomy, and a math class. The English class is usually virtual, so I only go to campus two evenings.”

Daphne nods thoughtfully, running her hands up and down Rosie’s back. “Is that because you think you’ll want to get back to surfing?”

The million-dollar question that I still don’t feel I have the answer to, no matter how many times people ask me. My eyes drop to the floor, but Daphne doesn’t push. “I miss it,” I admit. “But it’s not the same anymore. Even if… I don’t know, Daph. It’s complicated.”

My sister hums her understanding of what I’m not saying. My journey to process everything with Jared hasn’t been easy, and she knows that.

“I’ve thought about physical therapy.”

“I remember you talking about that in high school,” she says. “Before mom and dad let you compete in senior year.”

Hudson interrupts before I can respond. “Oh, I can help if you go that route. My friend Miles recently graduated from CLU, and he works with Oregon Beavers as their assistant physio. I can pass on your number if you want?”

My future speeds up in my mind’s eye, unfolding at a pace I’m not sure I’m ready for just yet. “I, uh, thank you… Maybe hold on to it for now, and then when I’m ready for it, I can let you know.”

Daphne doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes on me. That knowing frown pulling at her brow. There’s a fear bubbling beneath the surface of my thoughts. I try not to lean into it, but it creeps in when I think about what comes next sometimes. I hate that I wonder if I fail at one more thing…is this just who I am now? But I don’t have to say any of it. Daphne feels it. I know she does. Like the ache is hers too somehow.

Suddenly, the smoke alarm shrieks from the kitchen, and Daphne and I roll our eyes at each other. Hudson jumps to his feet in a panic. “Shouldn’t we be, like, evacuating or something?”

“Calm down, baby, it’s just Dad burning something in the kitchen. Happens every year,” Daphne says, pulling his arm down to sit again. He nods, but his brow remains creased.

“Mom,” I call out over the noise, secretly thankful for the interruption. “Everything okay?”

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