Page 28 of Wild Hearts

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Brady

ISHOOK OUT MY MUSCLES, waiting for the announcement of my final. The waves had been incredible throughout the week, and I couldn’t believe I made it through that last heat. Levi Western from Airlie Beach put on a great show, but I managed to pull off a double up on the inside of my last wave following a roundhouse cutback and that gave me a total score of 8.9. It beat his 8.7 and cemented my place in the under 19’s men’s TropSets final.

The best part was that it all took part on my home turf, and Dad was there to watch. I needed to go find him before my heat, just to get any last pointers.

I called out to John Waterhouse, one of the Blue Haven surf instructors asking if he’d seen Dad and he pointed behind the clubhouse. I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face as I made my way around the side of the building. I was only two wins away from getting a rookie spot offer on the World Surf Tour. All those early mornings and hard work over the years were finally starting to pay off.

I heard murmured voices coming from my left, followed by the low timbre of Dad’s laugh. I headed in that direction but stopped short as my brain took a moment to process what I was seeing.

Jeremy Willis – my dad, my idol – had the current world number one female surfer Tarshia Crest backed up against a wall. His left hand groped at her breasts while he had his tongue down her throat.

My stomach dropped. What the actual fuck?! I stumbled backward and dashed around the corner before they could spot me. I dropped to a crouch beside the building and took deep breaths, trying to calm myself. This was not happening. That couldn’t have been my dad. My parents had been happily married for the last twenty-five years. He wouldn’t do this to her... to us.

The speakers above my head crackled before the announcer called for the marshalling of my final. Despite the numbness spreading over my body, I didn’t want to get caught by my dad – or the woman he was groping. I pushed up and hurried down to the beach.

My heart thumped erratically as I grabbed my board and carried it to the marshalling area. Locals were calling my name, wishing me luck, and I think I nodded my acknowledgement, but it felt like I was moving in a haze.

Bile rose up the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. I wasn’t letting my dad ruin this for me.

I got my name ticked off and moved to the water’s edge. I stared out at the breaking sets, not even taking any of it in. I was vaguely aware of my competitor, Jarvis Porter, to my right. I don’t know how long we stood there, but the siren sounded to begin our heat and I took off into the water.

Jarvis caught the first wave and it was good – he earned himself an 8.2 right off the bat. I shook my head to clear it as I searched for the right wave. I made my choice and started to turn my board. Paddling forward, I felt the tell-tale signs of the wave rising behind me and popped up, but my legs were unsteady, and my board slipped from underneath me. The force of the wave shot my board up in the air and I barely had time to process what was happening before it came down on my head with a sickening crack and everything went dark...

My sister’s voice pulls me out of my real-life nightmare. “You ready for this?”

It’s ten to six and Ivy and I are sitting in my car outside our father’s new house with his new family. We drove in silence after I picked her up from work, both of us preparing ourselves for whatever we were about to walk into.

The house itself is a two-storey weatherboard with two large arch windows above the garage. It’s slightly bigger and a lot newer than our house, more modern. Movement in one of the windows catches my eye, and my windpipe constricts as I think of Dad up there with...her, playing happy family. My eyes drift to the wooden staircase that leads up to where they are waiting for us. I’m not sure I can bring myself to get out of the car.

Ivy lifts her shoulders. My sister is usually full of zest and the life of a party, but she looks small and defeated as she stares at the house. I reach over and squeeze her hand. “Say the word, and we’re gone. We don’t have to go in there.”

She gives me an uneasy smile. “Yeah, we do, B. We’ve been putting this off for too long.”

I groan. She’s right: it’s time to face him. With a nod, I unbuckle my seat belt and open the car door.

“I mean it, though,” I mutter to Ivy as we make our way up the steps. “If you want to leave, we’re out of here.”

There’s no backing out once we’re halfway up the stairs. Floor to ceiling windows mean that Dad and Tarshia know that we’re here. Much to Ivy’s chagrin, I crack my knuckles, then tuck my hands in my back pockets. I’m generally not a violent person, but I don’t trust myself not to take a swing at the old man for what he did.

We pause at the giant oak front door. It feels weird. What are we supposed to do? Do we knock or just let ourselves in? Knock? Nothing seems right. Ivy glances up at me, and I can see the same confusion reflected back at me. She doesn’t know what to do either. Thankfully, the decision is made for us. The door swings open and we are face-to-face with the man who raised us.

“Ivy, Brady, thanks for coming.” His smile is forced. There are more wrinkles around his eyes, making him look tired. For some reason, that satisfies me. His dark hair is now peppered with grey. It doesn’t take away from his good looks though. The old bastard has still got it.

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