“I’ll find her.”
It was a promise, and I ended the call, already jogging for my Jeep.
My mind raced the entire drive to the beach, thinking about the last two days and all the shit that suddenly seemed so small, so insignificant. I would have laughed at the stupid games we played the night before if it didn’t make me sick to think about.
I think I knew, even then, that she was going to break my heart.
Relief found me when I saw her standing on the beach at the very first spot I took her surfing. She had her board tucked under her arm, her hair whipping in the wind as a storm blew in, and she stood there at the water’s edge, waiting.
I walked to her slowly, not really sure what I wanted to say, what I could say to make it okay.
Her dad was dead.
He was gone. And while that would have sucked in any situation, the fact that their relationship had been so fucked since she found out what he did to her mom certainly made it worse.
My body hummed to life when I got close to her, and I marveled at the way the sunlight shone on her skin before it disappeared behind a dark cloud.
“You can’t go out there,” I said.
Even from the angle behind her, I saw her bottom lip quiver, but she hiked her board up higher, sniffing. “I’ll be fine.”
“It’s about to storm, and it’s getting dark.”
She didn’t respond, so I eased in, careful not to startle her as I grabbed the other side of her board. I tugged gently, and she gripped it tighter at first, but then she released, her shoulders slumping as she let me take it from her.
I set it in the sand gently, turning back to her as her glossy eyes watched the waves.
For a while, I just stood there with her, our eyes on the ocean as the wind whipped our hair. My heart ached, and with the surge of it, I reached for her — just barely — my pinky brushing hers.
She closed her eyes, and then she slid her palm into mine, and we both held on tight.
“Jenna called me. She… she told me what happened.”
Her thumb rubbed mine as another deep roll of thunder met us.
“Talk to me,” I begged, voice soft and weak.
Her nose flared, lips trembling. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t worry about it making sense, just talk. Just… get it out.”
She nodded, again and again, rolling her lips together as silent tears ran down her cheeks. I wasn’t even sure if she realized they were there. She didn’t move to swipe them away, just let them fall.
“I’m supposed to hate him,” she finally whispered. “I was named after the freckles on his cheeks, the same ones on mine, and I’m supposed to hate him. He raped my mom,” she choked, the tears coming more fierce with that.
I squeezed her hand.
“And I never knew. I never knew that the hands that taught me how to ride a bike were the same ones that held my mom down the night I was conceived. I never knew the eyes that cried with tender joy the day I lost my first tooth were the same ones that watched my mom beg for him to stop hurting her.”
She shook her head, and I knew every word was excruciating for her to say. I just held onto her, letting her know she wasn’t alone.
“He was always there. He was the one to buy me my first notebook and pen and tell me to write. He was the one who took me on a shopping spree the day my childhood best friend moved away. He was always there.” She covered her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut. “And then he wasn’t, because I pushed him away, because I was supposed to. I haven’t talked to him since the day I graduated high school. I ignored his phone calls. I told him not to come to Christmas dinner for the first time in my life.” She squeezed her eyes shut even harder. “I didn’t talk to him, Jamie. And now I’ll never talk to him again.”
I reached for her, crushing her to my chest as she relented to the sobs assaulting her. I held her tight as the first drops of rain found us.
“It’s okay to love him,” I told her, another deep roll of thunder echoing.
“No, it’s not,” she breathed, and then she lifted her glossy gray eyes to look up at me. “Just like it’s not okay to love you.”
My nose flared, emotion strangling me as I angled her face up even more, cradling her neck in my hand. “You love me?”
She nodded, biting her lip as she released more tears.
“Why is that not okay?”
“Because,” she whispered, shaking her head as she gripped my shirt. “I can’t be with you right now, Jamie. I’m going home tomorrow for the funeral and I just… I can’t promise you anything. I can’t…”
Her voice faded, and I swear my chest split open, because even though I hated it, I understood exactly what she was saying.
In that moment, I didn’t have any other choice but to love her through the darkest time of her life.
And I knew right there on that beach that I wouldn’t get to do it the way I wanted to.
I felt her pushing me away, felt her isolating herself, felt her need to get away from me and Alder and everything until she sorted through what she was feeling.
It gutted me.
But I wanted her to know I was still with her.
I lifted my other hand, cradling her face and searching her eyes.
If she was leaving, I needed her to know the truth.
“Is it okay that I love you back?”
She let out a soft whimper of a cry, but I cut it short, pressing my lips to hers and fighting against the overwhelming urge to cry that hit me once we sealed that kiss. Everything in my body warned me of the hurt that was about to come, but I ignored it, wanting nothing more but to savor whatever I had left with her.
“Stay with me tonight,” I whispered against her lips.
She nodded, letting me pull her into me, and she gave herself to me one last time.
I spent that entire night making sure she felt safe, and warm, and loved. I kissed her like I’d never have the chance again, and in my gut, I really thought I wouldn’t.
She left that next day, and she never came back.
She never called. She never texted.
She never answered when I tried to reach her, every birthday and every anniversary of her father’s death.
Life went on without her, the cruel bastard that it is. I wished it would have stopped. I wished a fucking semi truck would have taken me out and ended the misery.
But slowly, time stretched on. I went to school, but I stopped dating. I played basketball, but I stopped surfing.
I graduated.
I moved back home.
I moved on — at least, as much as I could.
I convinced myself I would be alright without her.
But the day the universe decided to put us in the same place again, I realized just how naïve I’d been.
IT WAS ONE OF those times in life when everything feels right.
The night I walked into that little dive bar just a few blocks from the office, I was floating on a cloud of possibility. I’d just been notified that I passed my CPA exam, and my father had officially offered me a position at his firm. Half the partners, and another half-dozen accountants were out with me to celebrate, and I had this permanent smile on my face, this permanent feeling that I was on the cusp of something big.
All my life, I’d had this pretty little dream for my future. I wanted to go to the same university as my dad, get my CPA, join the firm, work my way up, and eventually become partner. Along with that, I wanted to find the woman of my dreams, marry her, and fill a house with babies.