Page 67 of Below the Barrel

I shake my head, already feeling the argument spiralling. “No, Mal, it wasn’t like that. You didn’t make me do anything. I made the decision to surf that peak because I wanted to. Even if your surf was perfect, I think I still would’ve gone over there and tried to surf that spot. I’ve been pushing myself my whole life, you know that. What happened was a stupid accident—nothing to do with you.”

Tears well up in her eyes, but she fights to keep them from falling. “You could’ve been seriously hurt, Koa. Or worse. How am I supposed to not feel responsible for that?”

Her words hit me hard. I can see the guilt eating her alive, the way she’s been carrying this weight since it happened. I move closer, taking her hand in mine.

“Listen to me,” I say firmly, “you didn’t force me to do anything. I made my own call out there. Surfing is dangerous, you know that. We take a risk every single time we hit the water. I’m fine. I’m here. I’ll heal. But I need you to stop blaming yourself.”

She stares at me, searching my face for something, her hand trembling slightly in mine. “What if I keep messing things up for us?”

I squeeze her hand tighter. “You’re not messing anything up. We’re a team, Mal. We’ve always been a team. And yeah, things get rough sometimes, but we figure it out. We always have.”

A tear finally slips down her cheek, and she wipes it away quickly, trying to pull herself together. I can see the guilt starting to crack, like maybe she’s starting to believe me. But there’s still a bit of hesitation.

“It wasn’t your fault,” I say again, softer this time, leaning in until our foreheads almost touch. “It’s not your fault, Princess. You need to let it go.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, her whole body relaxing for the first time in days. “Okay,” she whispers, her voice shaky. “Okay, I’ll try.”

I pull her into a hug, relief washing over me as I feel her finally lean into me, the weight between us finally lifted. And, for the first time in days, we’re back on the same page.

After a while, I pull back and smile at her. “Let’s do something fun tomorrow,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “Griffin and Eliana are leaving in the morning, and we could use a break. What do you want to do?”

Maliah’s face brightens slightly, and she looks up at me with a small, hopeful smile. “Actually, I was thinking…maybe wecould visit my father. He doesn’t live too far from here, and it’s been a while since I’ve seen him. The waves by his house are also insane.”

I freeze, my stomach dropping. Her father? Of all people…he’s the last person I want to see. Ever. My body tenses at the thought of facing him. The history between us isn’t exactly good. He’s never approved of me, and I’ve done nothing to change his mind. But when I look into Maliah’s eyes, that hopeful glint I haven’t seen in days…I can’t say no.

I nod slowly, forcing a smile. “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.”

Her eyes light up as she quickly grabs her phone and starts texting him to arrange everything. I lean back into the couch, watching her, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut.

TWENTY-SIX

MALIAH | PENICHE, PORTUGAL

Koaand I stand just outside my dad’s massive beachside mansion, the sound of waves crashing against the rocks below filling the silence between us. The air smells like salt and distant rain, and I can’t help but feel this strange mix of nostalgia and dread. The big wooden door looms in front of us, like it’s judging me for even being here. I glance at Koa, who’s been quiet ever since we dropped Griffin and Eliana off and made our way here. He’s tense, his jaw tight, and I know this is the last place he wants to be. But I asked, and he’s here anyway.

I take a deep breath and knock.

The door swings open almost immediately, and there’s my dad, tanned and glowing like he just walked off the beach. His brown hair and beard are streaked with white now, a little older than the last time I saw him, but still holding that same rich arrogant vibe with his slightly unbuttoned shirt. His arms stretch out wide, reminding me of the Christ the Redeemer statue Koa and I visited in Rio.

“My little girl is home,” he says, pulling me into a hug that smells like expensive cologne and the ocean.

This is his home, not mine. After my mother passed away from cancer, he packed his bags and dropped me off at TheShredder House before flying out here and planting new roots, starting a new family.

“Hey, Dad,” I reply, a bit awkwardly, the warmth in his embrace not quite reaching the tightness in my chest.

As I pull back, I catch the way his eyes flicker toward Koa, a weird look passing over his face, but it’s gone in an instant. He quickly refocuses on me, all smiles again as he steps aside and gestures for us to come in.

I’m struck by how quiet it is—no loud voices, no slamming doors, none of the usual chaos. I glance around, noticing the stillness in the air.

“Where is everyone?” I ask, my voice low.

Dad waves a hand like it’s nothing. “Oh, your stepmother, or I guess ex-stepmother took the boys and left months ago. Apparently, she was tired of the life I provided her,” he says, like it’s no big deal. “But don’t worry, I’ve got a new girl now. Younger, hotter…still upstairs getting ready.”

I stare blankly at him. “Why didn’t you think to tell me that they left?”

He shrugs, his smile never faltering. “Figured you wouldn’t care. You were never close to them anyway.”

I bite the inside of my cheek, resisting the urge to snap back. It’s typical of him, brushing things off like they don’t matter. And maybe they don’t, to him. But still…they were my family, in some twisted way.

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