Page 106 of Wilder Love
Then, we surfed.
I swear that I could feel my dad’s spirit vibrating through my body as I rode those waves. He was with me—in the ocean and the grains of sand, the brushstroke clouds skittering across the blue October sky. Remy was right. This wasn’t goodbye.
But it was time to let go and move on. From the old life I’d been clinging to, grieving the loss of, and the dreams that had died the day I got locked up in prison. As Sam told me the other night when he stopped by for a few beers, “A good sailor knows when it’s time to readjust the sails.”
And that was what I had to do. Readjust my sails and take a different course.
Since I’d lost my job on the demolition site six weeks ago, I’d thrown myself into shaping, glassing, and finning surfboards. I had a whole rack of them in the garage and a few commissions to fill. I needed the money, still a touchy subject for me and Remy. But I also needed a purpose. A new dream. A new future. With any luck, I’d be pursuing those things with the same girl.
Remy, Dylan, Travis, and I stayed at the break, surfing long after the others had paddled in. The sky behind us was red with the promise of a good day tomorrow when we rode our last wave in. As I undid my leg leash, I saw him standing on the beach watching me. A lone figure in khakis and a navy blazer with a crisp white dress shirt.
Our eyes met and held for a few seconds then he tipped his chin and he turned and walked across the sand, carrying his expensive Italian loafers in his hand. I stood and watched him go, my feet sinking into the wet sand. I didn’t know what to think. Maybe it was his way of acknowledging that we’d both lost so much. Or maybe he had come to pay his respects. My dad and John Hart used to be friendly acquaintances, and Jimmy’s Surf Shack had been the exclusive supplier for HartCore surfwear in Costa del Rey. John Hart had always liked my dad. Until he decided to fuck with him. When he disappeared from my sight, I tipped my head up to the sky.
Thanks, Dad.
I chuckled under my breath, amused that I thought my dad had some hand in this. As if he’d sent a sign that everything would be okay.
“What was all that about?” Travis asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the staircase that John Hart had just climbed.
“A truce?” Remy asked, her voice hopeful. She wanted to stay in Costa del Rey. I knew it without her having to tell me. Now that she was back, she didn’t want to leave Dylan, but she would. For me. I knew that too.
“John Hart won’t cause you any more trouble,” Dylan said confidently. He made it sound like he had inside knowledge.
My gaze swung to him and my brows raised. “Why’s that?”
“Rich people are back-stabbers who prey on others’ misfortune.” With that, he tucked his board under his arm and strode away. As if that explained a damn thing. Dylan St. Clair was a puzzle wrapped in an enigma.
Remy chased after him and grabbed his arm, halting him in his tracks. “What are you talking about?”
Travis and I caught up to them, curiosity getting the best of us.
“Explain,” I said.
He exhaled loudly like explaining himself was an imposition and we were meant to read his twisted mind. “Sienna’s dad—Simon Woods—had something on John Hart and was holding it over his head.” Dylan held up his hands. “I don’t know what. Don’t care either. But they were partners in a lot of their business deals and holdings. Now Simon Woods is the majority shareholder. John Hart isn’t poor. But his finances have taken a beating. He’ll be too focused on this feud with Simon Woods to give a shit what you’re up to.”
“Karma. What a bitch,” Travis said, sounding downright cheerful.
I shook my head. “You’re cold, Ice Man.”
Travis just shrugged. Remy remained silent and gnawed on her lower lip. A tell-tale sign that she was nervous or unsure.
I suspected she was just as conflicted as I was about that news. Did John Hart deserve to lose more than he already had? Honestly, I didn’t think he did. But that was life, wasn’t it? Sometimes it knocked you on your ass and then it kicked you in the teeth.
But harsh as the world could sometimes be, I was ready to get back to the business of living, not just existing. Remy and I had spent so much time dwelling on the past that we hadn’t discussed the future. Or the possibility of one together. She’d brought a bag to my house two weeks ago and was living out of it. She hadn’t even unpacked it, as if her stay was temporary.
Back in July, my dad had given me another piece of advice. Unsolicited, might I add.
“If a man is lucky enough to find his one true love in this whole big crazy world, he hangs on and he doesn’t let go. Not even when it gets hard. Especially not when it gets hard. Fight for her. She’s worth it.”
43
Shane
“The first time I ever tried sushi was with you,” Remy said, slathering wasabi onto a piece of salmon sashimi and popping it into her mouth. Her eyes watered from all that wasabi.
I chuckled at the memory. “I remember. And now look at you. Sushi for lunch. Heavy on the wasabi.”
She grinned at me across the island in her brother’s kitchen—gleaming stainless-steel, glossy cupboards, and black granite countertops. I’d popped by unannounced. It had been two days since the paddle-out and Remy and I hadn’t gotten a chance to talk. We hadn’t seen much of each other at all. She was trying to keep me away, scared of what I might do or say.
