Page 80 of The Moment of Letting Go

But he’s not alone, I realize when I find the courage to tear my eyes away from him. Another dark figure, stark against the gray-and white-capped water, emerges from the top of a wave not too far from Luke.

All I can do is watch in awe and in horror—I’ve never seen Luke surf quite like this, riding big, thrashing waves and very much like a pro, which he told me once he was not. Maybe that’s true, but he sure looks like one to me out there. But every time he gets clipped by a wave and disappears under the water, my hands begin to shake and my heart stops and every muscle in my body locks up. Not until I see his head appear from the top of the churning water do I feel like I can move and breathe again.

A long time passes while I stand on the beach in the downpour, before I decide that I just can’t watch anymore.

I run back to the house and to the safety of the lanai, where I wait for another thirty minutes, drenched in my clothes, before Luke finally comes back safely.

He looks stunned to see me sitting here when he notices me from the bottom step, surfboard tucked under his arm.

He smiles hugely, looking me over.

“What are you—why are you wet?” he asks with a wrinkled nose, setting his board upright against the side of the house.

I return his smile, but it’s not as bright as his.

“I was watching you surf.” I tell him the truth—I wonder if he can detect the discomfort in my voice.

He crouches down in front of me on his long, muscled legs, tilts his head to one side, and says, “You all right?”

Great—I guess he did see the discomfort, after all.

My legs drop from a crossed position on the chair and I set my feet on the wood in front of him.

“Yeah, I was just a little freaked out seeing you do that.”

He places his hands on my knees; his smile just gets bigger.

“Look, I’m fine,” he points out, gesturing both hands at himself, but when he sees that I probably don’t look too convinced, he pushes back into a stand and reaches for my hand. “Come on, why don’t you get out of those wet clothes, and I’ll make you breakfast.”

I take his hand and follow him into the house. I change clothes and pin up my hair before heading into the kitchen to the delicious smell of bacon cooking on the stove.

“I’m sorry, Sienna,” Luke says as I sit down at the bar. “Last thing I wanna do is freak you out. I shouldn’t have gone out there with you here at the house. But I’m fine, see!” He turns from the stove, smiling brightly, and places an empty glass in front of me. “I may do some extreme stuff, but I’m really safe about it all. I never surf like that alone.” He reaches over the bar and brushes his fingertip over the bridge of my nose—it eases me in an instant, and a smile turns up on my lips. “I had Braedon out there with me,” he adds.

“Yeah, I saw you weren’t alone.” I admit that does make me feel a lot better, and I think he knows that judging by the smile of acceptance on my face.

“And I never am,” he insists, going toward the fridge. “Orange juice? Milk?”

“Orange juice is good.”

He comes back with a half gallon in his hand and pours some into my glass.

Maybe I’m just being overly cautious, as usual, letting my fear of heights bleed into everything else. I’ve never really been afraid of the risks associated with cliff-diving and storm-surfing and other things like that, but then I’ve never really been faced with them before I met Luke, either.

Just the same, I don’t want to come off bitchy or maternal, telling Luke I think he shouldn’t do this and shouldn’t do that. It’s his lifestyle, and from what I’ve seen so far he seems to know what he’s doing.

We enjoy a breakfast together at the bar and talk for a long time about his surfing and rock-climbing and cliff-diving, where I learn that if anyone is more prone to being injured, out of all of Luke’s friends, Seth apparently takes the trophy.

“Nothing can kill the guy though,” Luke said. “He’s broken several bones, ruptured his spleen in a motorcycle accident, and almost drowned surfing.”

“Geez, what the hell is wrong with him?” I asked.

“Seth is just Seth—he wouldn’t know how to live any other way. But he’s generally safe, too. He’s just accident prone by nature, not reckless by choice.”

But the extent of Luke’s injuries in the years he’s been into all this wild outdoors stuff is a broken toe and some scrapes and bruises.

And this too fills me with a sense of relief.

Not a full sense, but a sense nonetheless.

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