Page 9 of Situationship
“How long have you been collecting women?” her mom screamed.
“What the hell?” Dale yelled.
“Next I’m taking my half of your La-Z-Boy.”
“You’re crazy. How are you going to take half of a La-Z-Boy?”
“When I take one of your chainsaws.”
Her mom took that fifty-fifty rule seriously—splitting everything right down the middle, including their kids. She kicked Dale out and moved in with Nonna Rose. Since Harley and Dale both suffered from severe wanderlust, Dale got custody of Harley and Teagan lived with Mom and Nonna full-time in Pacific Cove—where Harley always felt like a visitor.
She knew in her heart that her mom would be horrified to know just how deeply the divorce arrangements had hurt her. It wouldn’t have been so bad if both sisters had been sent to live with Dale, but her mom had fought for one daughter and let the other go without a second thought.
“Don’t get all ruffled. I’ll be leaving soon. I have a job in LA that starts next week,” she lied—kind of. She did have a job in LA, but she was on vacation for another few weeks and was planning on extending it.
“That might be for the best,” Teagan said.
“Right.” She picked up her yoga mat by the door, amused at the recurring constipated look on her sister’s face. “Can’t miss class—I’m teaching it.”
“I thought you said you were just passing through. How are you teaching yoga classes on the beach?”
“Oh, it’s not normally on the beach. But since it’s your first day home, I’ll give you the garage.”
Chapter 3
When I see you, I admit I start to lose my
grip and all of my cool.
—Unknown
There was still a chill in the air when Teagan woke up the next morning. The sun struggled to break through the early morning marine layer, violet and orange streaks glistening off the whitecapped waves, which were eating up the shoreline as the tide came in.
In the distance, sailboats swayed on the swells, brightly colored windboards caught speeding air, and surfers bobbed up and down, waiting for the perfect wave. Teagan drank in the moment.
“I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” she said, stepping into the shallow surf.
The rolling tail of the wave soaked the cuff of her jeans, but she didn’t care. This was nirvana. Watching the sun come to life while, wiggling her toes in the brisk water as the Pacific danced around her, the sound of the ocean was the only thing that could be heard.
Oh, and barking. Lots of barking. Barking at seagulls. Barking at seaweed. Barking at waves, which constituted nonstop barking.
Teagan had come out to let Garbage Disposal do his morning thing and burn off some of that puppy energy. Twenty minutes in and his energy hadn’t dwindled.
Arf! Arf!He dropped the tennis ball at her feet, and it bobbed in the water.
“Last time.”
She’d said that ten throws back but he was kind of cute when he jumped on the lapping waves, trying to defend his human from the big, bad water. Had the surf been anything higher than ankle-deep, she would have appreciated his protective instinct.
While Teagan loved the beach, she was terrified of the ocean.
Grabbing the ball with the launcher, she pitched it down beach, giving herself a high five when it covered a good hundred yards. Her high school softball team hadn’t named her Bazooka Bianchi for nothing.
Garbage Disposal shot off like a bullet, racing down the beach to pounce on the ball after only one bounce. Shoving it in his cheek, he gave a few Marlon Brando barks, with simultaneous leaps from side to side, then was off.
Belly low to the ground, legs moving like a gazelle playing tag with a cheetah, he ate up the beach, getting dangerously close to tackling speed. Speed that would launch her into undertow territory.
With no time to move aside, she prepared for the worst—the worst being landing ass-first in the water. Eyes squeezed tight, arms crossed protectively over her chest, and lifting her right leg to protect her core, Teagan braced herself for impact—a one hundred-and-twenty-pound impact.
