Page 21 of Ripple Effect

just fine, thanks. saw holden lost both his games last weekend. tell him it really bummed me out

no, thank you. and stop deflecting

I’m honestly okay, mother. don’t worry

mhm. I’ll check back later, then

*saluting emoji*

It’s a surface-level response, barely scratching the depth of what’s actually been gnawing at me. But it’s easier to keep my feelings under wraps, to not admit out loud the concerns about my health, about my work.

Not to mention the strange tug that Daisy’s heartbreak is having on me, the way she’s somehow stirred up emotions I’d long attempted to bury.

To distract myself, I continue working through my string of requests, editing another pointless solo scene before moving on to my web chats. And when I finally step away from the screen, hours later, it’s not the dimmed images of AfterDark that linger.

Instead, it’s the echo of Daisy’s laughter, the ghost of her tipsy smile that follows me into the silence of the night.

* * *

As the firstlight of Saturday spills into my apartment, I fasten Bentley’s leash and bypass my phone sitting on the counter. We hop in the Jeep, and the two of us make our way over to Amber Isle in record time.

As we walk together, there’s an unfamiliar stirring in my chest, a subtle thrum that matches the rhythm of the waves—not the unsettling pulse of anxiety I’ve grown used to, but something more like anticipation, excitement.

I shake off the thought, attributing it to the rising sun, the promise of a peaceful walk, but as Bentley and I amble closer to the shore, there’s no denying it. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’m hoping to cross paths with Daisy again, the girl cradling stars in her eyes.

The prospect of seeing her back on her board, to witness her reclaiming that passion, strangely nudges at my curiosity. She mentioned she’d be back here this weekend, and without fully realizing it, I find myself eager to see her ride the waves again.

As we walk along the shoreline, I spot her there in the distance—Daisy in all her glory, her wet suit glistening under the early morning sun. She rides the waves, her body moving with a grace that contradicts her recent heartbreak.

When she finally paddles back to shore, salt water dripping from her beachy blonde hair, a flush across her cheeks, she doesn’t take long to spot Bentley and me. Her eyes instantly brighten, and my heart all but fucking stutters.

“Hey, stranger!” she calls out, panting slightly as she approaches. “Didn’t expect to see you here this morning.” She wedges her board into the sand, moving to give Bentley a scratch behind his ears.

“I could say the same,” I say, although I know I’m lying through my teeth.

I wanted her to be here this morning—I was hoping for it—and it’s half the reason I even trudged out here in the first place.

“I did tell you I was gonna get back on my board, didn’t I?” she teases, nudging me with her shoulder as she wipes a droplet of water from her cheek.

The corner of my mouth twitches upward. “You did. Woman of your word.”

We fall into a comfortable silence as Bentley trots along beside us, chasing after a tiny crab. It’s easy, the way Daisy seems to fit into our quiet morning routines, our late-night strolls. And I find myself not missing the solitude so long as she’s the one filling it.

“Thought you preferred to take your walks in the middle of the night?” she asks, giving me a curious stare.

“It’s five in the morning.” I huff a laugh. “That’s practically the middle of the night if you ask me.”

“Not usually an early riser?”

“These days, more often than not. But that first morning I ran into you? That was a bit of an accident. I, uh, I actually passed out here after a rough night.”

“Late-night partying?”

“Nah, just tired from school, from work.” I shift the conversation to something decidedly less heavy. “Not everyone can absolutely smash a bottle of strawberry wine and then still wake up for classes the next day.”

“That was more of a onetime thing.” She gives me a soft laugh as she bends forward, squeezing a bit of sea water from the ends of her hair. “Yesterday was rough for me.”

A smirk tilts my lips. “I’m sure it was.”

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