Page 15 of Wilder Love
I snagged on to the words ‘next time.’ “Does that kind of thing happen a lot?”
“No,” she said firmly without meeting my eye.
She was lying. When her mom had slapped her last night, Remy hadn’t been shocked. There were no tears. No hurt look or accusation in her eyes that begged the question of why her mother had done that. She was used to her mother’s outbursts and physical abuse.
“I couldn’t just stand back and let her hurt you.”
“She didn’t hurt me. Afterward, she felt bad.” She shrugged one shoulder. “She just had too much to drink. No big deal.”
No big deal.
That had abuse written all over it, yet Remy was defending her mother’s behavior. Justifying it and chalking it up to drinking too much.
I took a deep breath of sea air. The ocean was my home. Surfing was my religion. I felt it deep in my soul. I had wanted to give this to Remy. Offer it up like a gift, as if it was mine to give. That was why I had offered to teach her to surf.
“The next wave has your name on it,” I said.
She grinned. “I thought it said Shane.”
“You thought wrong. Let’s see if those spaghetti arms can paddle for this wave.”
“Pfft. I’m stronger than I look.” She made a muscle. I laughed. She rolled her eyes. “You probably wouldn’t even be able to keep up.” That made me laugh harder. She was already gone, paddling hard for the wave. I sat up on my board and watched her.
She caught it a bit late but managed to get to her feet. She was up for all of five seconds, teetering until she lost her balance and came off the board in the white water. But as she paddled back out to me, she had a big smile on her face.
“Did you see that?” Her smile was radiant, her voice jubilant. Well, at least I knew one thing that made her happy.
“I saw it. You’ll be catching air in no time. How did it feel?”
“Amazing. Surfing is such a rush.”
“Careful. It’s highly addictive.”
She caught a few more waves, chosen by me, and I tried to explain what to look for when choosing the perfect wave. Remy was a fast learner, and listened to everything I told her, taking it all on board.
Now, she was lying on her stomach on the surfboard, trailing her hand through the water, her chin propped on her other hand. She turned her head, so her cheek was resting on her hand, her gaze on me. The sunlight made her skin glow, her eyes almost translucent. Lulled by the gentle rhythm of the ocean, our boards floating close enough that we could reach out and touch each other, it felt intimate. Even though there were other surfers out here, it felt like we were the only two people in the world.
“I love this,” she said softly.
“Surfing?” I dragged my gaze away from her face and sat up on my board, my eyes on the horizon.
“And the ocean. It makes me feel… at peace, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know.” There was nowhere else I’d rather be than in the ocean. “I always feel better after I surf, no matter what’s going on in my life. Every single time, it works like a charm.”
I hoped that would be the case for her. I wasn’t sure what was going in her life, except for what I had seen last night and a few things I’d picked up from our conversation the night we hung out together. She’d moved around a lot. Nothing in her life felt permanent. Or reliable. And her mother… I didn’t know what to think of that woman.
“I can’t wait until it storms.”
She let out a contented sigh. Funny girl. But I had always loved the storms too.
5
Remy
My eyes snagged on a poster of Shane in the window of Jimmy’s Surf Shack as I locked up my bike. A few days ago, I’d found the bike at a garage sale for twenty bucks. It was the old-fashioned kind—sky-blue with a saddle seat and no gears. I rode it everywhere, exploring Costa del Rey and getting lost along the way. I rode to the pier, the marina, explored the beaches and parks, the neighborhoods in the canyon with mountain and sea views.
As I passed a mirror above the sunglass display, I did a double-take. My skin was tanned to a nut brown from my morning surf sessions and swimming in the sea every day. But what really caught my attention was that I looked… happy.
