Page 5 of Beyond The Break

“I hope to see you again, Eliana,” she says, standing up from the stool, wobbling slightly. “I should get back to my hotel before I wake up on the floor of this bar in the morning, again.”

I giggle, standing up with her and almost falling to my ass. Shegrips onto my elbows and helps me stay upright as my giggles break out into hysterical laughing. Her mouth stretches into a wide grin as she watches me, eyes sparkling, before she joins in. We must look and sound like two drunk hyenas to everyone else here.

Once I’ve calmed down and wiped the happy tears from the corners of my eyes, I wrap my arms around her and pull her in for a hug. I almost begin crying again when I realize this is the first time I’ve hugged anybody in five years; I forgot how comforting it is. She reminds me of how good it feels to have someone on your side. Someone who wants to talk to you and wants to listen to everything you have to say. Someone who cares.

“Thank you for tonight,” I say.

She wraps her arms around me and gives me a big squeeze.

When she zigzags out of the bar I take a seat, nearly falling off the edge, and pull out my phone. I pull up Gabriel’s number and stare down at the blurring numbers in front of me. I know I probably shouldn’t call him until I’m sober, but the liquid courage makes the decision for me and before I realize it my phone is pressed to my ear as the line rings.

“Hello?” his deep voice says from the other end.

“Seventy-five thousand annually, and you have a deal.” I slur, holding my breath, the liquid courage making me sound more confident than I feel.

“I’ll make it sweeter, in case you try to change your mind in the morning when you’re sober,” I can hear the smile forming as he speaks. “One-hundred and fifty thousand annually, and I’ll throw in a free room at The Shredder House.”

I’m stunned into silence for a few minutes before a question burns its way into my mind.

“Did you have all the articles and posts about me removed?” I finally ask.

The line is quiet for a moment.

“Your boarding pass should land in your email inbox in thenext ten minutes.” he says instead. “I’ll see you soon. Good night, Eli.”

My breath catches in my throat after hearing the nickname only my parents had ever called me. I feel my throat tighten and my vision blurs once again.

“Goodnight.” I mumble, my voice shaking.

The line disconnects and I rub my eyes, refusing to let the tears spill out. Less than a minute later, the boarding pass comes through to my email. As I inspect the boarding pass, my eyes snag on the wordsBusiness Classand I bite the insides of my cheeks to keep from screaming excitedly.

TWO

GRIFFIN

The drivethrough Saltwater Springs brings back bittersweet nostalgia. I’ve done my fair share of traveling in my twenty-nine years of life, prior to my accident, and nothing compares to the winding coastline roads and the salty sea air that flows through the open windows of my jeep in this town. The waves can be heard in the distance, and I daydream about being back on my surfboard. It’s been six months since I tore my MCL and I haven’t seen, let alone touched, a surfboard in that time.

I rub at my chest, trying to loosen the tightness that’s forming there, while I try to push away the dark memories of that day, refusing to give them any space in my mind today as my knee begins to throb. This time I’m coming back different, stronger,focused. And unlike last time, failure isn’t an option.

The Saltwater Shredders, the professional surf team I’m with, has been struggling since I left. I’ve watched every surf competition from the TV in my hospital room and seeing them continuously being beat by our biggest rival team, The Rip Raiders, fills me with an unbearable amount of guilt. If I had been there, we would’ve come in first place each time. Beingshort one person in competitions like these, where wins are based on overall points, makes all the difference.

I’m determined to make it up to them by getting us to first place at the Regional Surf Team Finals. It’s the only thing standing between us and the opportunity to join the World Championship Tour. The winning team of the Regional Surf Team Finals is entered into the solo Qualifiers where other solo surfers from around the world compete to catch the best waves and highest points to earn a spot on the Championship Tour with the World Surf Association.

The Shredder House comes into view at the end of the road, and I find myself admiring it as if it’s the first time I’m seeing the house. It stands out in this town, where every house looks like a colorful cottage taken straight out of a children’s storybook. The Shredder House was renovated with Gabriel’s modern touch. Its pale concrete walls are softened by wooden accents and large floor to ceiling windows. Beautiful, colorful flowers and carefully trimmed bushes line the property as I drive up the long driveway.

After parking my car, I hop out, careful not to put too much weight on my injured leg. Despite my physiotherapist’s advice against my return due to lingering pain, six months feels long enough for me. I’m willing to endure the discomfort if it means not letting my team down again.

Grabbing my black duffel bag from the backseat of the car, I make my way toward the entrance. My eyes fixate on the wooden front door, as well as the Saltwater Shredders sign that hangs above it. I used to feel a sense of pride walking through these doors, but this time fear takes hold of me, and I find myself frozen in place with my fist hanging in the air between myself and the door.

You can do this.

I force myself to mentally repeat those words as a sheen of sweat forms along my forehead. I stare at my floating fist, nowtrembling, as bile makes its way up my throat. I guess this is the PTSD the doctor said I might experience.I never thought knocking on a door would trigger it, but here we are.

I went from being at the top of my game, to being too scared to open a damn door.

As if reading my mind, the door swings open, revealing Gabriel’s grinning face. I watch as the smile fades from his face when he studies me and my hand. I force my shaking hand down to my side, stuffing them both into my pants pockets.

He eyes me suspiciously before pulling me in for a bear hug. “Are you feeling alright?”

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