Page 26 of From the Ashes

I’m grateful that everyone gasps instead of immediately laughing at me. I’m also grateful that I put my phone in the breast pocket of my short-sleeved button down. The garment flapped open over my T-shirt as I fell, so my cell only gets a little splashed before I yank it out and hold it up to where it can stay safe.

Once I realize no real damage has been done other than to my pride, then I do laugh. That gives the kids permission to dissolve into fits of giggles again.

“Oops,” I say sheepishly.

“You okay?” Zahir asks, wading through the water to me before dropping down and…

And then he’s lifting my foot out of the water, inspecting the tender spot.

We’re touching skin to skin. He’s voluntarily touching me.

My brain bluescreens. It feels like there’s an electrical current running between us, super charging my heart. It’s only when he looks at me and raises an eyebrow that I remember he asked me a question.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” I say with a cough. “I think it was just a rock or seashell. I’m not even bleeding, am I?”

He shakes his head and smiles warmly, rubbing my sole with his thumb. The pressure on the injured area feels good.

“I think you’ll live,” he assures me with a wink.

For just a second, I get a flash of how comforting he must be to his patients. He sees people at some of the worst moments oftheir lives and pulls others from terrifying crises. If I was having a really bad day, I know it’s Zahir’s face I’d want to see.

It’s as if we both realize we’re looking into each other’s eyes at the same time. He glances away, flustered, as I slide my foot from his grip.

“Are you okay, Mr. Colt?” Nevaeh asks in concern by my side. Rebecca and Dashel are hovering behind her. I look around and see that Elizabeth and Anton are wrestling the surfboard back onto the sand. I guess the lesson is probably over for the day.

“Yeah, kiddo,” I say ruefully as I haul my ass up, saltwater rushing from my drenched shorts. “I’m fine, just a klutz. You promise not to tell anyone?”

Rather than laugh, she sticks her bottom lip out and slots her hand against mine. “You’re not a klutz. You just had an accident. It can happen to anyone.”

I look at this small child and wonder if she’s been beating herself up for almost drowning. That hadn’t occurred to me before, but I guess even tough kids get wobbly sometimes. If she can deal with something so huge as that, I can take inspiration from her and get over my embarrassment today.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re pretty wise?” I ask her.

“Dashel tells me I’m a know-it-all,” she says with an eye roll.

“You are!” her brother squeaks as we all make our way back onto the sand. I laugh and hear Zahir laugh too.

I like sharing moments like this with him.

Probably too much.

While the parents round up their kids, I sigh and look down at my soaked clothing. I think my only option is going to be to hang out here for a bit and try and get them to dry, otherwise I’m going to ruin my car’s upholstery. But I don’t have any food or a book, and I’m not sure how much battery my phone has left. So rather than sounding like a relaxing prospect, it feels like I’m going to be bored as fuck.

“Do you want my shorts?”

I blink and look at Zahir. He’s holding out a pair to me, presumably the ones he was intending on changing into as he wore his swimwear here. I’m stunned. Not that he’s being kind and considerate—that’s who he’s always been as far as I’m aware. But that he’d voluntarily give me something of his. Doing that means we’d have to coordinate me giving them back. I could probably just bring them to our next surfing lesson with the kids, but still…

“You’d trust me with them?” I blurt out.

He shrugs and looks slightly awkward. “They’re just shorts.”

We both know they’re not, though. He’d be well within his rights to ignore my plight and let me destroy my car seat and still sleep soundly tonight. But this is why even though I know it’s unwelcome on his side, my stupid heart pitter-patters every time I’m near him. He’s just such a decent human being in a world so often overrun with selfish mean-spiritedness.

I should take them. It’s a practical solution that would save me either having to replace my upholstery or languish in boredom for the next few hours. But taking anything from him feels like too much when I’ve already broken his heart, betrayed his trust, and forced him into living a lie for all that time when we were teens.

So I shake my head and smile sheepishly. “Then you’d be the one stuck in the wet clothes. I’ll just ride it out.”

“Well, I…”

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