Page 61 of Wilder Love
“Last I heard he was working a construction job. I don’t know where though.”
I turned that information over in my head. It gave me hope that he was able to get a construction job. But it made me sad too. He shouldn’t be working a construction job. He should be shredding waves. He should be on the Dream Tour.
“He could have been the world champion,” I said. “He wasthatgood.”
“We could have all done a lot of things. There’s no room in this life to think of all the things you could have done. You just have to live with what is.”
With those final words of wisdom, Dylan disappeared inside the house and turned on his big-ass TV, leaving me alone on the patio. Some things might have changed but his social skills were still lacking.
Did Shane still surf at sunrise? Or did he wait until after work?
It took me three days to gather the courage to find out.
26
Shane
There were a lot of things I’d missed while I was in prison, but surfing topped the list. Thank God the ocean hadn’t deserted me. I was alone out here this morning. And these days, that was how I liked it.
I felt her watching me. I didn’t know how I knew she was there. I was straddling my board, watching the horizon, my back to the beach. But I just knew. It was that heightened sense of awareness I used to feel whenever she was near me. I glanced over my shoulder and there she was, sitting on the beach like a mirage, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs, chin resting on her knees. For seven years I had tried to forget her. For seven years I had failed.
It felt like I’d been sucker-punched in the stomach. That was how it always had been, right from the first time I saw her. I dragged my eyes away from the lone figure on the beach and scrubbed my hands over my face as if that would help me clear the memories. I wasn’t ready to see her. Not ready for her to see the mess of a man I’d become. So, I floated on my board until it was time to go, hoping she’d disappear. I didn’t look at the beach to see if she was still there, watching me.
When I couldn’t put it off any longer, I paddled in. She stood up, her eyes meeting mine for a split second before she turned and walked away. As I undid my leg leash, I watched her leaving. She walked differently now, more graceful, more practiced, her posture perfect, like she was used to being on a catwalk or being watched. When she reached the top of the staircase, she didn’t even turn to look at me. Just kept going, disappearing behind the line of trees and scrubby bushes, and for a moment I wondered if I had imagined the whole thing. When I reached the parking lot, there was no sign of her.
I showered off the saltwater in the outdoor shower and changed into a T-shirt, cargo shorts, and dusty work boots. Securing my board to the roof rack, I climbed into the driver’s seat as a black G-Wagen pulled in next to me. Dylan hopped out and circled his car, coming to stand by my window. Grudgingly, I rolled it down, not in the mood for chitchat. But then, Dylan had never been much of a conversationalist.
In the months since I’d been back in Costa del Rey, I’d seen him a handful of times, but we’d never spoken.
“You see my sister?”
“From afar.”
He nodded and patted the roof of my Jeep twice before he backed away.Nice chat. I reversed out of the spot, my eye catching on the Firewire board he took off his roof rack. Fuck me. A Mercedes and a Firewire. All I could do was laugh at the way life had flipped the tables.
* * *
“Are you a surfer too?”a blonde girl asked me, her eyes raking over me from head to toe, a flirty smile on her face, as if she liked what she saw.
I gave her an easy smile. “Nah. I’m an ex-con.”
She laughed as if I’d just told her a good joke. Travis shot me a look and shook his head, letting out a sigh.
“He’s a surfer,” Travis told the blonde. “One of the best.”
I took another pull of beer while he talked shit. The party was low-key like he’d promised, a few people in the pool and others milling around, laughing and talking, music piping from the surround sound system. His house sat on a bluff, with views of the Pacific Ocean from the infinity pool. Travis Jones was a two-time world champion with endorsements and sponsorships that paid for his luxury lifestyle. He still worked hard. He was still driven and competitive. He was at the top of his game.
I didn’t want to be here tonight. I’d been making excuses for months, claiming I was too busy to hang out with him whenever he was home, but he had threatened to disown me if I didn’t make an appearance tonight. So here I was for old time sake, listening to him trip down memory lane and reel off the highlights of my career to some chick I didn’t know. Daisy? Dahlia? It was a flower name. I think.
This was why I had been avoiding him. I didn’t want to hear about what had been or what could have been.
“It’s not too late,” Travis said. “You can still—”
“Stop. Don’t go there.”
Travis knew why I couldn’t even entertain that fantasy. That life was over for me. As further demonstrated when Cody Shaw joined us with a leggy brunette in tow.
“He lives.” Cody gave me a one-armed hug and a few thumps on the back. Cody had never risen as high in the rankings as Travis, but he was still on the World Tour, still a pro-surfer. “Dude, you doing okay?”
