Page 105 of Britta & the Beach Boy
Britta kisses my knuckle, then presses her cheek to it. “I’m not letting you break our contract that easily. If this is your way of getting out of training to be an Olympian, think again. I’ve already got a spot picked out atFrothedfor your gold medal. It’ll be good for business.”
Only Britta could look at me in this bed, connected to a million wires and tubes and tell me I still have a chance at the Olympics. She’s so confident, I almost want to believe her.
“You laugh all you want,” she goes on, after kissing my hand again. “But I’m serious. I’m counting on you to fight for your dream.”
Britta stands and leans close, then takes my face in both of her hands. “And I’m going to be right here next to you.”
There’s a fire in her eyes that sparks a determination in me to get out of this bed. To do whatever it takes to hold her in my arms and tell her I love her. That’s what I want more than anything. Even more than surfing.
I concentrate so hard it hurts, but I’m able to move my fingers and pat the bed next to me.
Britta’s eyes dart from my hand, then back to me. “That’s a good start.”
With a smile, she lowers the bed rails and moves my arm further from my side. She adjusts a few of the monitors to keep from unplugging anything as she climbs into the bed next to me. I let out a noise that I hope she understands is relief, the same way she understood what my tapping fingers meant.
There’s not much room in the bed, but Britta curls up next to me, her head in the pocket between my shoulder and chest. Then she reaches behind her to position my hand around her waist.I can’t hold her on my own yet, but knowing she’ll help me get there gives me the first bit of hope I’ve had since I woke up in this hospital bed.
“You should know I don’t do goodbyes,” she says as she slides her arm across my chest. “You’re stuck with me, whether or not you like it.”
That’s all the motivation I need to get back to who I am so I can show Britta just how much I like being stuck with her.
The End
Epilogue
September 2025
Dex holds me tight as we bounce in the boat we’ve chartered to take us from Malolo Island, where we’re honeymooning, to Tavarua Island and Cloudbreak, Fiji’s most famous wave, where the WSL Finals are being held this year.
Dex isn’t holding me tight for my sake, but for his own. In the past ten months, he’s made more progress than his doctors expected. He’s learned to talk again, although his speech grows slower and more slurred when he’s tired. Walking came easier, but he’s still a little unsteady on his feet, and, sometimes, even off them.
But he’s still not back to where he was before the accident. In fact, he hasn’t been back on a surfboard—or even in the ocean—since then. Dex hasn’t said he wants to surf again, but I catch him staring at the waves out our bedroom window at least once a day. He wants to get back out there, not just to surf, but to compete. I see it daily in his eyes, and I’ve felt it in his body since the minute we stepped on this boat to go to the Finals.
Dex won’t be surfing in them this year, but the organizers still wanted him here. The entire surfing community has rallied around him, cheering for his recovery. And if I know Dex, he’ll get there. I predict he’s back to compete in the Finals this time next year.
In the meantime, I keep him balanced, whether he’s walking across uneven ground or riding in a boat. He keeps me balanced by reminding me to let other people help him and by coming intoFrothedto make me take breaks. And we keep each other focused on what’s most important: our relationship. We’re committed to not letting anything get in the way of loving each other.
Our boat hits a wave hard, and I wrap my arms tighter around Dex’s waist to keep him from getting knocked over. Even a few months ago, he might have fallen off his seat, his balance was still so off from the concussion. But with daily physical and occupational therapy, Dex is getting stronger every day. He tips slightly, but catches himself and can sit upright again on his own.
I smile, tuck my chin into my windbreaker, then pull my hood tighter to block the spray coming off the dark water as the boat slices through the waves. Dex pulls me close, wrapping his arms around my shoulders so I can bury my head in his chest. His embrace isn’t as tight as it used to be, but I’m grateful for the strength he’s regained just in the last few weeks. The fact he can still hold me at all is a miracle.
Don’t get me wrong, there have been fights when he hasn’t wanted to do the work, and I’ve made him anyway or when I’ve come home tired fromFrothedand not wanted to walk the boardwalk with him or help him with exercises. Communication was tough before he recovered his language skills. Sometimes it still is when he can’t say something as fast as either of us wants him to or when he can’t find a word he’s lost.
Dex’s recovery is hard for both of us. Marriage is hard—we’ve had to get to know each other while Dex has been relearning the most basic skills.Lifehas been hard.
But so, so good. And made even better by the family support we’ve had.
My dad, brothers, and sisters-in-law have taken turns coming to help. During the summer, when they couldn’t be here, I couldn’t keep Stella away. Dex’s mom has stayed for weeks at a time, and his dad has even visited.
Besides family-by-blood, we’ve had Annie too. Everything she’s learned taking care of Keesha she’s been able to use with Dex, too. When I’m not there, she’ll often come over to use our home gym to help both Keesha and Dex with their physical therapy. And when I need someone at the shop, she’s usually available to step in, now that Keesha doesn’t need round-the-clock care.
Then, there’s Archie, who wouldn’t let us move out of the beach house and insisted on making one room a gym with all the equipment we’d need for Dex to do most of his therapy at home. Between that and the elevator in the house that meant Dex wouldn’t have to take stairs until he was ready, we couldn’t say no. Archie even moved in to make sure Dex had twenty-four seven care.
He moved out last week. I didn’t realize he’d planned to, but his stuff was gone one day when I came home from work.According to Dex, Archie had decided we needed our own space after witnessing too many “displays of affection.”
That’s probably true. I think he also finally decided I was more than just a distraction for Dex.
“Look at this, Britta.” Dex loosens his hold on me and nudges me upright. The rising sun breaks through the clouds, weaving strands of orange and yellow through an aqua sky dotted with white. At the same time as the sun, the moon sinks into the ocean, but for a few beautiful moments, they hover in the sky together, holding space for each other.
