Page 10 of Promise Me Nothing
“I’m assuming you do? Surf?”
He lifts a shoulder. “You could say that.”
“How long have you been doing it?”
“Since I was like, maybe four or five. My dad taught me.”
His words are innocent, but we both feel the guilt of the marks they leave behind. Because what isn’t said when he shares thathis dadtaught him to surf is thatmy dadtaught him how to surf.My dadwas the one who got into the water with him and showed him what he was doing.
Or I guess…our dad,if I want to be technical.
Which I don’t.
In our first conversation, we tried to figure out the timeline from way back. From when we were kids and the lives we were living didn’t exactly match up to what was actually happening.
At least for me.
But apart from knowing the year it happened and a few of Lucas’ scattered memories of the times dad visited him during his childhood, we don’t have much else to go on. Joshua never talked about it that I can remember, and Lucas says his mom is like a vault of information unwilling to open.
The only thing I’m certain of is that there was some kind ofaffair.And knowing that my parents didn’t have the idyllic relationship that I’d always imagined them having is definitely an adjustment.
How do I look back on the life of the man I idolized and realize it was all a lie?
CHAPTER THREE
Hannah
I had an idea in my head of what Lucas’ house looked like.No, scratch that. I literally looked online to see what it would look like. From the maps view, I’d been able to tell it was big, and figured it was fancy since it has a beach view.
But still, nothing could really prepare me for seeing the real thing, up close and personal.
When we got off the freeway, Lucas had rolled down his windows, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel to an old Foo Fighters song. He’s an energetic guy, and really into music, that’s for sure.
But it wasn’t until we passed Hotel Hermosa, a mammoth of a place that seemed to welcome you to town, that I smelled the ocean for the first time.
There was something familiar about it. Something that stirred an emotion inside of me that I wasn’t ready to feel.
Salty and sticky and a little bit fishy. The ocean air wrapped around my throat and squeezed, keeping me from saying much as we cruised down and then up and then down again, over a handful of small hills as we got closer and closer to the water in dips and waves.
And then the road opened and we turned onto the main drag of Hermosa Beach, a long stretch apartments and small houses to my left across the large street, and the large beach-front homes side-by-side to my right.
And then Lucas slowed, clicked something on his visor, and I realized we were here.
And now, I can’t stop staring, my mouth slightly ajar as I gape up at the absolutely enormous mammoth that I’ll be calling home for the summer.
What the hell did I get myself into?
“It’s beautiful,” I say, finally managing a few words, though they honestly don’t do this place any form of justice.
Glancing over at Lucas, I find him looking at me with a microscopic smile on his face. But he doesn’t say anything. He just finishes pulling his truck into the three-car garage, slipping in between a car and SUV. He turns off the engine, leaving his windows down, and slips out.
Before I can even open my door, Lucas has rounded the back and grabbed my duffel bag from the bed of the truck. He taps twice on the frame of the car above where I sit, then tilts his head towards a door in the corner of the garage that I can only assume leads inside.
“Come on,sis,”he says with a smirk, then walks off. “Let’s get you settled in.”
I slide slowly out of the front seat, clutching my backpack against my chest, and follow him inside.
I’ve never envied wealth. Never felt like I missed out on something as a child because we lived in a rented apartment in a cheaper part of town. I never felt ashamed of the fact we’d lived on food stamps for a few months when I was a kid when my dad lost his job. And when everything in my life imploded, I might never have wished to live in foster homes, but for the most part I was still kept fed and sheltered.
