Page 68 of Unfinished Summer

“Wait, Jayce.” I knew what she was going to say. It was the conversation we had about six months ago, but for some reason, she didn’t want to believe what I was telling her.

“What?” I snap, immediately wishing I could bite my tongue, but I’d made myself very clear. I didn’t want a permanent relationship, and I hadn’t changed my mind since the last time we spoke about it.

“Can we talk? About us? Later?” She climbs across the bed and stops me from leaving, barring the way with her body. She’ll be surfing later or tomorrow with the rest of us.

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Oh, you said plenty last night. Or was that just your dick talking.” She cocks her head to the side, and her eyes narrow.

“I was clear that nothing had changed. I like you, and I care about you. But that’s as far as it goes for me. I’ve never promised anything more.”

For a second, I see the hurt my words inflict, but she turns away to hide her face. “Whatever, man. I’m not going to wait around forever.” She picks up the clothes we tossed about the room in our haste to get into bed last night. And then she’s gone.

I don’t want drama. Hell, we got enough adrenalin in our line of work. Settling down, falling in love, well, it isn’t on the cards for me. There’s always something holding me back—someone.

But she’s only a memory now.

A fleeting feeling that still sets my heart racing, but a faded memory.

I give Mary-Anne a few minutes to leave before I head out. First to the 17thCentury Fort, sitting on the cliff that looks out at the waves, and then down to the port to do a run-over on my equipment in the lock-up.

The place is abuzz with surfers and locals alike. The destination has grown in popularity over the last ten years, and there is a handful of us who call Nazaré home.

Tomorrow is when it will hit big. Everyone in the sport is flying in and checking their setup, so they don’t miss the event.

Flight just landed. You good for a pickup?

Sure thing. Leaving in 10.

I smile as I type my response. I’ve not seen Finnan for a few months but knew he’d be back for this swell. He and the boys will all stay with me, like the old days of surfing and travelling together. It’s just over an hour to reach the airport, and we’ll have time to catch up on the way back.

Finnan keeps a few boards and some other equipment in the lock-up, so we’ll all be ready for action tomorrow.

I don’t need an alarm to wake me the following day. Before the sun is up, so am I. The wind and rain create a hostile environment, but that’s when the waves are at their best.

I take the truck out before the lads wake up and get a sense of the atmosphere. This spot on the cliff edge will be buzzing with spectators in a few hours, all waiting to see us beat the waves or wipe out and fight for our lives.

As the waves get more well known, and more people come to this spot, so do the tourists wanting to catch a glimpse of a world record or an accident because that’s what it’s like. Surfing here is the fine line between life and death—the biggest of highs or the worst low. But you can’t let fear stick in your head. You can’t be frightened when you go out there because that’s when you’ll make a mistake and risk being cocooned by the sea for a second too long.

The roar of the waves is deafening, and in the shadowy dawn, it sounds terrifying.

And I can’t wait.

The port is alive with boats, crews, and every surfer I know, all of them descending on the town for this epic event.

“Man, this is going to be huge. Everyone is here.” Archie and Bear high-five as we pull up to the lock-up.

My two jet skis are fuelled and ready to go, and we work together to get them loaded and in the water. Wetsuits, helmets, and inflatable vests are all part of the essential kit now, and we’re all a lot safer because of it. We might chase giants, but we are as safe as possible.

Adrenalin pumps through me, igniting my every nerve. My heart pounds in my chest, and I have to focus on breathing to calm it back down—years of techniques I’ve been forced to master, just as much as the surfing itself.

I let go of the tow handle and hurtle down the monster, gaining more and more speed. Spray and water pelt me from every direction, but I push past and settle into the ride, remembering to breathe and keep myself calm. It’s wild and terrifying, but my muscles take over, and I trust what I’m doing. Finally, I clear the brake and pump the air as I coast free and direct the board out of the white water, escaping the clutches of the wave.

I lie flat on the board and dig my arms into the water, paddling to avoid the breakpoint.

Finnan’s on the jet ski first, and we’ll switch after a few waves. I give him the okay, and he zips over to give me a hand back out.

“These are only going to get bigger!” he shouts, the wind and crash of the waves on the cliffs making it hard to hear.

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