Page 19 of Chasing Stars
Jenna takes in a shaky breath. “Okay. That’s good. I don’t want to fall, if I can help it,” she admits.
I push my lips together thoughtfully, resting my hand on hers. I’m really going out on a limb here, but she doesn’t pull away. I will my heart to stop racing. “Jenna,” I say slowly, “You will probably fall. But when you do, I’ll be right there to help you up.”
Her lips press into a tight smile and she nods. “Okay. I can do hard things,” she breathes, nodding as if trying to convince herself.
“You can,” I agree, handing her the wax stick. “Here. Help me wax.”
She takes it and starts rubbing it on the board, but not firmly enough. I put my hand on top of hers and she looks my way. “Can we do it together?” I ask, my voice catching ever so slightly. She can probably tell I’m nervous.
Jenna grins. “Show me how it’s done,” she murmurs and my stomach drops.
Together we make wider, firmer circular motions. I ignore the tingling in my palm from where our hands touch. Jenna’s breath catches, and I can’t be sure if it’s nerves about surfing or if, like me, she’s affected by our closeness. I don’t get a chance to find out. As soon as the board is waxed and I pull my hand away, we’re interrupted.
“Jenna Rossi, is that you?” A surfer shielding his eyes and emerging from the water with his board shorts and rash guard plastered to him calls out.
We look up at the same time. Jake Walker—Jenna’s cousin whom she hasn’t seen in years—walks toward us, dripping wet. He drops his board at his side.
“Holy shit, Jake!” Jenna shrieks, jumping up and throwing her arms around her cousin. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Jake laughs. “I can safely say you are thelastperson I expected to see here.” He pats her back and pulls away, looking her over. “What are you doing here?”
Jenna turns back to me, smiling. “Miles is teaching me to surf.”
I wait for Jake to recognize my face and when he does, he gives me a nod, holding out his hand. “What's up, man? Don’t you go to my gym?”
“The Local Fitness on 9?” I shake his hand.
“Yeah. So, how do you know my cousin?” He squints at me, and I can’t tell if he’s feeling protective or curious.
Jenna interrupts. “He’s the property manager of my house that I didn’t know wasstillin the familyuntil last week.” Jenna huffs out a breath.
“No shit,” Jake says, scratching his head. “Oh—hey, I’m really sorry about your mom.” He gives her a grim smile.
Jenna blinks rapidly and folds her arms over her chest, like she’s trying to comfort herself. It looks to me like she may be fighting back tears. “Thanks. I miss her so much.” Her voice is thin and her jaw trembles as she gives a small shake of her head. She is clearly eager to change the subject. I guess when you’re estranged from your family, they don’t attend your mother’s funeral. The thought tugs at my heartstrings.Who did Jenna lean on at her mom’s funeral?
Jake must sense the awkwardness because he gestures toward the water. “Well, these are perfect baby waves for learning,” he says.
“That’s what I told her,” I add quietly. Jenna glances my way, something like relief flickering in her eyes—as if Jake’s confirmation steadied her first-timer worries.
Jake shoots me a look, reaches for Jenna’s shoulder, and cocks his head. “How long are you here for? Let’s catch up.”
Jenna sucks in a breath and nods. “A while. My number is still the same.”
“Cool. Well, it was great seeing you.” Jake wraps Jenna in what looks like an awkward obligatory hug. He turns to leave, then glances back, pointing two fingers at me with a sly smirk and a wink. It’s like he is daring me to do with Jenna what everyone seems to think I always do.
I know that look—I’ve seen it often—like people assume my bedroom has a revolving door and I’m always looking to add a name to my list. The list isn’t as long as they think. I like dating but I don’t sleep with every woman I take out. Regardless, the gossip mill spreads. I usually let it roll off my shoulders—let people talk. But for some reason, it matters to me if Jenna thinks that too.
“Miles,” he says with a smug salute.
I hold up my hand in a wave. “Later,” I call.
And then, we’re alone again at last.
9
JENNA
As soon as my torso hits the ocean, it comes back to me—the fearlessness. I used to live in the waves. My parents would prop up their chairs at the water’s edge of this very beach and watch me jump in the waves for hours on end. My dad would bring his surfboard and a cooler, and we sat here nearly every day in the summer of 1997. He promised me the next summer, I’d be big enough for him to teach me how to surf. He never got the chance.
