Rough Waters (20 page)

“I’m not staying out of this!” Reed shouts.
“I’m not playing Mr. Fucking Nice Guy anymore! I’m done. Over. If
she hadn’t been there tonight, your brother wouldn’t be in a
hospital bed. He’d be floating around in the Pacific Ocean with
Shark’s ashes waiting for a recovery team to find his corpse!”

A nurse demands that Reed lower his voice.
She says she’s going to call security if this doesn’t stop right
now. Reed doesn’t even glance her way. Vin cuts his eyes toward the
nurses’ station but doesn’t move.

“Strick, I’ve told you to stay out of this,”
Vin repeats. He points at me, through Reed and A.J. “Come near
Topher again, and I swear, I’ll get a restraining order.”

Reed dashes forward before I even absorb the
words ‘restraining order.’ He slams into Vin, pushing him with all
of his strength. Vin stumbles but doesn’t falter.

“She saved your brother’s fucking life!” Reed
screams, slamming a fist into Vin’s stomach. “You don’t give a damn
about Topher or Drenaline or Shark. You never did! You don’t
deserve any of them!”

My flip flops remain glued to the waiting
room floor as Reed drives into Vin, cursing and screaming and
saying words that I didn’t know were even in Reed’s vocabulary. A
nurse screams, and another grabs the phone. A.J. dives forward into
the action, taking blows from Reed in the process.

“Let’s go,” Alston says, pulling my arm.
“A.J.’s got him.”

I hesitate to leave, hating to leave Topher
with a raging Vin. A.J. locks his arms around Reed, shouts for him
to shut up, and drags him toward the exit. Alston’s eyes plead with
me to hurry, so I turn my back and bolt for the exit.

It’s not like I’m counting, but fifty-seven
hours is a long time to go without talking to someone after you
pulled him out of the ocean and watched him nearly die. Topher’s
phone has gone to voicemail since the night of the near-drowning,
and according to Miles, Vin won’t let anyone in to see him.

Miles slipped in through the window last
night to pay his BFF a secret visit. The mass text update he sent
out said that Topher was a little shaken up from the whole thing,
but overall, he’s in good spirits. Vin, on the other hand, is still
raging. I’ve avoided Drenaline Surf and The Strip. In fact, I’ve
spent the better part of fifty-seven hours in my bedroom.

The screen door of the guest house slams, and
I wait to see which one of my roommates knocks on my bedroom door.
Reed has reverted back to the father figure in the house, which
almost humors me after his outburst and security call the other
night. A.J. is currently at work, so my best guess is Alston – the
other bum of the house.

“Hey,” he says, poking his head in without
knocking. “There’s a delivery for you. You want to sign for
it?”

Seriously, Alston? Do I look like I want to
see anyone? Does shutting yourself away in your bedroom for two
days not translate for you?

“Sign for it yourself,” I say. “I don’t want
to deal with it.”

He leans against the wall and folds his arms.
“Fine. I’ll sign for it, but I’m bringing it in here so you can
figure out what to do with it,” he says.

He pushes off the wall and heads back toward
the screen door down the hallway. Maybe Liquid Spirit sent
something for Topher. That’d give me a reason to have to get in
touch with him, even if I had to break in through the window like
Miles. But with Vin threatening a restraining order, that’s
probably not the best idea. Deputy Pittman already knows I’m tied
to A.J. Gonzalez, and after Pittman was suspended those days for
A.J.’s unfortunate arrest, I’d rather avoid the police station at
all costs.

“Special delivery,” Topher says, leaning into
my bedroom.

I nearly face-plant in my rush to get from my
bed to the doorway. As much as I just want to stare at him and see
him in the flesh, I throw my arms around him and bury my face into
his chest. His arms squeeze me in the tightest of hugs. He smells
like sunscreen and salt water, even though I’m certain he hasn’t
been in the sea since I pulled him from it.

“You have no idea…” I say before my voice
cracks.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Topher says, pulling back
and forcing me to look at him.

He’s wearing those same stupid blue and
yellow board shorts from the night at in Sunrise Valley and a
Hurley T-shirt. His hair is messy, and his eyes still dance like
the ocean on a good day. I can’t imagine a world without him in
it.

“I’m okay,” he says. “Can I come in?”

We walk over to the bed, and I sit on the
edge, keeping a few inches of distance between us. Part of me wants
to lock him down and keep him safe forever, away from rough waters
and hospital rooms. But I know that’s exactly what Vin wants for
Topher – a life without surfing – and I can never stand behind
that, even with all the risks.

“I wanted to thank you,” Topher says. “I
wouldn’t be here now if it weren’t for you.”

“I’m not the one you should be thanking,” I
tell him.

He shakes his head and laughs. “I knew you’d
say that. I’ve already gone by Jace’s and Theo’s house. I spent a
few hours with Theo this morning. He’s going to be okay too, just
so you know.”

I want to ask why he didn’t tell me that it
was Shark that Theo couldn’t save. That’s a huge detail to leave
out. Sure, knowing someone died because you couldn’t save them is
life-shattering, but knowing Shark McAllister died because you
couldn’t save him is so much worse. I don’t ask, though. I don’t
want to drag any skeletons or ashes onto the shore right now. I
feel safer here on dry land.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Topher says. “I
went to see Kale too, and he told me how he froze, how he just
panicked. I’m lucky you were there. If you hadn’t gotten to me in
time, then Theo would’ve had a repeat of Shark. So in a way, you
saved me and him both.”

No matter what Topher says, I can’t accept
the heroism. I went into the water because I had to. There wasn’t a
choice to make. There were no options. Besides, if Kale and I
hadn’t gone in, Miles would have – cast and crutches included – and
that in itself needed an intervention.

“How are things at home?” I ask, changing the
subject.

Topher shakes his head. “Vin’s an ass,” he
says. “He had me on lockdown for two days, but this morning, he had
a ‘sudden change of heart.’ I’m still confused by it, but he gave
me my phone and truck keys, so I didn’t argue. And just so you
know, I’m eighteen, and he can’t file a restraining order to keep
you away from me.”

I can’t help laughing. He explains how Jace
told him about Reed’s outburst and Vin’s threat. Of course, it was
all secondhand information from A.J., who told Jace, and if I know
A.J., he probably added his own spin to it. I should give him more
credit. Lately, things really have been as crazy as A.J.’s typical
exaggerations. There’s no need to embellish when the truth is
already insane.

“But the good news is that he’s letting me go
to this Ocean Blast Energy promo thing next week,” Topher says.
“Miles has to go because he’s sponsored, and Vin is flying out to
Florida to talk to someone about partnerships. The space will be
good for both of us.”

I agree – the Brooks brothers need some
separation right now. Vin never mentioned partnerships on the east
coast. Maybe Logan has connections out there. For all I know, we
may be in the process of opening a third Drenaline Surf store. It’s
not like Vin would’ve told me anyway.

“When I get back, hopefully everything can go
back to normal,” Topher says. “But really, I don’t know what normal
is anymore.”

“Me either,” I say, pushing all of my worries
to the back of my mind. “I feel so stupid being here sometimes. I
had this plan that I was going to move here, and life would just
turn out so much better, but really, it’s as crappy as it was back
home, just with better scenery.”

Topher shakes his head. “You didn’t have West
Coast Hooligans on the east coast, so California automatically
wins, and it’s not for the scenery.”

If he wants to get technical about it, the
Hooligans could be some pretty nice scenery. Even with the cast,
crutches, and dreadlocks, Miles has an aura that can’t be touched,
and he’s probably the least attractive of the Hooligans.

“How long will you be gone?” I ask.

“A week exactly. I leave tomorrow,” he says.
“But as soon as I get back, I’m going to come tell you about it and
we’ll hang out. And we can decide what to do about Liquid
Spirit.”

I think we need to gather all of our friends
and form a prayer circle on the beach. After all Topher’s been
through lately, I don’t feel so great about putting him on a plane
– especially when he’s traveling with the already-injured.

“You’re not seriously going to sign with
Liquid Spirit, are you?” I can’t hide the shock in my voice.
There’s no way Topher would sign with a sponsor that isn’t
Drenaline Surf…will he?

He shrugs. “The money is better than anything
my brother would ever offer me,” he says. “It’s a sponsorship, just
not
the
sponsorship. I’m going to think on it this week. I’m
going to go through the whole ‘what would Shark do?’ thing with
Miles. Then I’ll discuss it with you because you’re smarter than
Miles and me combined.”

“Shark would’ve already signed you,” I say.
“That’s what Shark would’ve done.”

Two hours after Topher leaves, I drag myself
out of the house. The sunset bleeds into the ocean like a canvas
with dripping paint. There are very few reasons I’d leave the house
after all that’s happened, but Colby’s panicked phone call makes
the list.

He stands on his back patio throwing that hot
pink frisbee for Dexter when I arrive. The yellow lab races through
the sand toward the shoreline. Colby looks over at me.

“Is Topher okay?” he asks without so much as
a ‘hello.’ “Vin freaked that night and told me to get a rental car
to drive back. He was so fucking pissed.”

“Topher’s fine,” I say as Dexter hauls his
toy back to us. “He came by the house earlier. Vin finally let him
leave. He seemed better than I expected, honestly.”

Colby pets Dexter and drops the hot pink
frisbee on the patio, signaling that the game is over. Dexter
doesn’t seem to mind. He wags his tail and darts off toward the
water, slinging sand along the way.

“Let’s go inside,” Colby says, turning toward
the patio door. He walks into the kitchen and scrubs the sand and
dog slobber off of his hands at the sink. He doesn’t say anything
else.

I walk into the living room and plant myself
on his couch. He stares out the kitchen window for a few moments
before he turns and picks up a stack of papers from the kitchen
counter. Then he walks my way.

“My parents’ lawyer called me yesterday,” he
says, sitting next to me. “He said this was his final offer to pay
for all the damage I caused. I have until next Friday to write the
check. If he doesn’t have it by the end of business that day, he’s
delivering papers to Drenaline Surf and Joe’s house Saturday.”

He shuffles through the legal papers,
avoiding eye contact, while I stare across the room at Shark’s
photography hanging on the wall.

“So you have one week from today to hand over
a check or they’re declaring war,” I say.

“You nailed it,” Colby says. “If I don’t cave
in, by this time next week, papers will be packaged up for Saturday
morning delivery. So you know what I have to do, right?”

I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear
that he’s giving up. He’s a forever chaser. He goes after his
dreams. He freaking died to escape his life and make something of
himself. Everything he has, he’s worked for. He’s earned it. He and
Shark fought for this. Shark would not approve of his
surrender.

“You’re not paying them off,” I say, shaking
my head. “It’ll never end. They’ll go through this money, and then
they’ll demand more. They’ll always find a way to blackmail you
into doing everything they want and giving them anything they wish.
If you write that check, you’re caving in to them for the rest of
your life.”

Colby sighs. His shoulders visibly rise and
fall with the deep breath. “I know,” he says, catching me off
guard.

“You know?” I ask. “Are you kidding me?
You’re actually walking back into this willingly? You’re giving up
everything you worked for and giving in?”

He nods. “There’s one thing more important
than my dreams, and that’s Jake McAllister. He gave me all of this.
In a weird sense, he brought
you
here. I’m not letting his
name, his store, or his dad go through that hell. Joe deserves
better than this. I may have put my parents through hell, but I
refuse to put that man through it.”

I lock my eyes on the photograph I stared at
last summer. It was taken underwater, looking up at Colby as he sat
on his surfboard. It’s a literal shark’s eye view. Colby had said
it was his favorite. Shark believed in him. I wish he’d remember
that now.

“Have you even talked to Joe?” I ask.

“No,” Colby says. “But as soon as Vin gets
back from his business trip next week, I’m turning in a resignation
letter and asking to be released from my contract. I have a few
matters to take care of before then, but in two weeks, I’ll be back
in North Carolina for good.”

“So what happens now?” A.J. asks. He sighs
and stares at the carousel dolphin in front of him. “Vin and Topher
come back tomorrow, and we all just pretend nothing happened?”

I’ve been overworking my brain for a week
trying to answer that very question. What now? How can we move
forward, pretending like Topher didn’t almost drown? How do I
pretend like Vin didn’t lash out in the hospital or fire me from
Drenaline Surf?

This entire summer has been one wildfire
after another, and the flames don’t want to let up. Is this what I
came back to Crescent Cove for? I could’ve gone to a community
college and been forced into a business degree on the east coast.
If I wanted to live someone else’s life, I’d have stayed home. This
was supposed to be the summer where I chased down my forever, just
like Colby did all those summers ago. Now both of our forevers have
been set ablaze.