I tumble in the water for a few seconds until I can get to the surface, but no part of me panics. I've been in this situation enough to know what to do. When I manage to stand up, however, my heart drops. The shore break must have been strong enough to snap my board in half because the other part of it is washing up on the beach while the back half is still strapped to my ankle. Fuck.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” the girl shrieks.
Do I fucking look okay? “Are you out of your mind? What the hell were you doing out there?”
I snatch the other half of my board up and turn around. A blonde girl no taller than five foot two stands in front of me. It doesn't take a lot of light to see that her eyes are the kind of blue that reminds me of the water back in Hawaii. If I wasn't so angry at the current condition of my surfboard, I'd probably acknowledge how gorgeous she is.
“I just needed to clear my mind, so I thought I'd go for a swim,” she explains shyly, rubbing her arm and looking down.
I roll my eyes. “Didn't your mother ever teach you not to swim in the ocean after dark?”
That seems to strike a nerve, because the sullen look falls right off her face and is replaced by one that threatens to put me in the ground. Her hip juts out to the side, and her eyes rake over my body, as if she's sizing me up. To be honest, I'm not sure I'd stand up in a fight with this chick. She may be little, but she looks scrappy.
“Lennon!” A girl around the same size with long, brown hair comes over and eyes me suspiciously before grabbing her friend's arm. “Come on. Colby's waiting in the car.”
The blonde—Lennon apparently—hesitates, and a part of me wonders if she really does plan on trying to square up, until she scoffs and walks away. I can't help but watch as they disappear out of sight. Once they're gone, though, I remember my board.
I move closer to the fire and use the light to inspect the damage. It's not even a clean break, meaning there is no fixing it. It's as good as a pile of junk now. Bryce and Jayden come over with fresh beers in their hands, but when Bryce sees the board, he drops his. It spills out into the sand.
“Dude, party foul,” Jayden scolds him, until he notices it as well. “Fuck. What happened?”
“Some dumb bitch went swimming in the middle of my path. I managed to swerve out of the way in time, but it fucked up my board.”
Bryce sighs and looks at the pieces. “That sucks, man.”
“Yeah,” I grumble. “You're telling me.”
Jayden hands me his beer. “Only thing to ever come close to surfing is getting drunk.”
I snort sarcastically, but he may have a point. If I can't surf away the chaos, I may as well drown it in alcohol.
LIGHT SHINES IN THROUGH the window of Jayden's room and lands on my face. As soon as I open my eyes, a sharp, stabbing pain shoots through my head and has me hissing. I pull the pillow over my face in an attempt to drown out the morning, but it's no use. Today, my life changes, and I have a hard time believing it will be for the better.
After getting Jayden's older brother to give me a ride back to my Jeep, I hop inside and head for home. It's only nine in the morning by the time I pull up, but my mom already has the U-Haul here and people packing things up.
Shit. I never finished packing my room.
I slip past a couple movers standing in the doorway and make my way through the house. As I get to my room, however, I find the only thing left in it is my bed, dresser, and nightstand. Everything else has been packed up and moved out. Of course, a few knickknacks are left, being as this is still going to be my room, but everything I need to live is gone. My eyes move to a note sitting on top of my dresser.
Cade,
Hope you had a good time last night. I finished packing your room and instructed the movers on what to take. Molly and I will meet you at the new house.
Love,
Mom
An address for what I can only assume is our new humble abode is written at the bottom. I take a deep breath before folding it up and slipping it inside my pocket.
Once I leave my room, I glance around the house. My mom didn't decide to take much, probably not finding a need for it all. My room, Molly's room, and my mom's personal belongings are all cleared out for the most part, but everything else is left in place. As I head back into the living room, I find my dad leaning against the wall, watching as the movers finish closing up the truck.
“Hey, Dad.”
He jumps, turning away and rubbing his hands over his face to hide the obvious fact that he was just crying. “Cade. I didn't realize you were home.”
I nod. “I just got back a few minutes ago. I didn't realize Mom packed up the rest of my room.”
'Yeah, I think she finished that last night after you left.”
In all the years growing up with my dad, I don't think I've ever seen him this torn apart. He's trying to put on a strong front for my sake, but I can tell he's breaking inside. Having lost the love of his life and now having to live in this house alone, it has me second guessing my choice to stay with Molly.
“Are you sure you're going to be all right?” I question. “Maybe I should just stay with you.”
He shakes his head. “No, your sister needs you to be there for her. Hell, I need you to be there for her.”
I rub the back of my neck to try to dull the pain of not only my hangover, but the reality of the situation. “Well, if you need me, just call. I'll be here within twenty minutes.”
That makes him smile. “Are you worried about your old man?”
“A little,” I quip. “It's like you just said—you're old.”
He chuckles and pulls me in for a hug. “You're a good kid, Cade.”
“I learned from the best.”
I PULL UP TO the big, white house that could, by any standard, be considered a castle. Massive doesn't even begin to cover it. This place should have its own zip code. There must be at least three floors, and there is literally a tower in the front corner. The two Mercedes sitting in the driveway don't even begin to surprise me, and a part of me wonders what kind of cars are in the oversized garage.
Walking up to the front door, I hesitate. Do I knock or walk right in? I mean, technically I live here now, but I've never been here before. Thankfully, in the middle of my mental debate, the door opens and my mom appears in the doorway.
“I thought I heard your Jeep.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me inside. “Come on. I want you to meet Ken.”
I let her drag me through the house and into an office that's bigger than my former living room. A man in a suit sits behind the desk with a phone pressed firmly to his ear. When he sees me, however, his expression changes.
“I'll have to call you back, Jay. Nora's son just got here.”
With a few more polite words, he gets off the phone and stands up. He's taller than me, maybe three inches above my own height of six feet two, which I didn't expect because I'm the tallest person I know—until now, I guess. He comes toward me with his hand outstretched.
“You must be Cade. I'm Kensington, but you can just call me Ken.”
Kensington? What kind of rich-prick name is Kensington?