Page 145 of Tides That Bind

“Milkshake.”

Harper huffs. “Riley!”

“Quick. Take a bite of your burger first,” I tell Lucas before turning to Harper. “You said dinner first. You didn’t specifyfirst in fullorfirst bite.”

She rolls her eyes. “Like there’s any doubt you could be anythingbuta lawyer.”

Shrugging, I take a bite of my burger. “Check them out, Lucas.” I point out in the distance. “Sometimes, the sunset surf is the best.”

Lucas tips his head up but quickly refocuses on his food.

“What do you think about giving that board I got you for your birthday a try this week?” I ask. “Pretty soon, you’ll be too big for it.”

“Maybe one day.”

A soft, defeated look appears on Harper’s face.

I tongue my cheek. “Did you know your mom can surf?”

Both Harper and Lucas turn to me.

“No she can’t,” Lucas says adamantly. “Dad could.”

I stuff a few fries into my mouth. “She’s better at surfing than she is at laser tag. I bet she could teach you,” I continue.

“You’rethe surf teacher, Riley.”

“Instructor,” Harper corrects him.

“Call it what you want,” I tell both of them. “But your mom taught me a lot of stuff.”

Lucas scrunches his face. “Like what?”

To believe in myselfwould be the most honest answer. That seemed like an impossible feat at one point. But I give Lucas an answer which includes that and so much more.

“All about magic.”

“It’s way past bedtime,” Harper says. “You can watch Avengers tomorrow.”

Lucas stops in the doorway after I open the backdoor, pouting at me. “Riley?”

Harper gives him a gentle push inside. “Oh, don’t even think that would work on him. And I already saidno. Go on upstairs and shower. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

I shut the door as Lucas trudges out of the mudroom. “It does work on me, though.”

“You’re a sucker.”

“It’s spring break. I did a lot worse on spring break than stay up past my bedtime.”

“Were you older thaneightwhen you did these worse kind of things?” Harper tosses the question at me before she shakes her head. “Actually, never mind. I don’t want to know.”

“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t risk messing up whatever good thing we have going by telling you anyway.” I make my way to the dining room table.

Harper follows, unable to help herself from straightening a sloppy stack of papers. “How about a night cap? He’ll be out like a light.”

“Tempting,” I hum, unable to stop myself from running my fingers along the smooth skin of her forearm, tracing her scar. Relaxed beneath my touch, she yawns. “You know, how about a rain check for the dateandthe night cap? You’re tired.”

Harper tilts her head. “Is that your way of telling me I look like shit?”

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