Page 49 of Holiday Love
Curiosity makes me forget I’m supposed to be Lindsey. “What made you stop?” I ask, honestly wanting to know.
A shrug. “I was dancing for hours and hours every day by the time I was a teenager. My grades started to slip. I always wanted to be a doctor, like my dad. Eventually I had to choose between dance or academics. I couldn’t succeed at the level I wanted while doing both.”
She lets out a sigh, her eyes downcast. “It was a hard decision, almost felt like I was choosing between my parents. Mom or Dad.I picked medicine, which I don’t regret, but after that, I don’t know, it was one less thing I could talk to my mom about. One less thing we had in common.”
Silence again, sorrowful this time.
I rush to fill it. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t haveanythingin common withanyof my family.”
Her eyes widen. “Nothing?”
“Nope. Gwen and my dad were the scientists. Brandon and my mom are both crazy competitive, always needing to win in sports, board games. And me? I’m just...mellow. It used to make me feel like something was wrong with me, that I didn’t care enough.”
I never told that to anyone.
Not even Jamie.
Helen doesn’t say anything right away. She’s watching me, her head tilted slightly, brows drawn, like she’s studying a problem she doesn’t know how to solve. Not yet, anyway.
“You ever wish you were more like them?” she asks softly. “Your family.”
I let out a low breath. “Sometimes. It’d be easier if I wanted the things they want. If I cared about being the best. But I don’t know what I want. Not really.” Uncomfortable with how intimate this conversation has gotten, I pivot. “Sorry, I’m supposed to be Lindsey.”
Helen frowns, noting my change in subject, but she doesn’t press me and I’m grateful for that.
“I just told you about how I, Lindsey, got into dancing,” I remind her. “Now ask me something else.”
She taps a finger against her lips, musing. “I don’t want to talk about the hospital, because I don’t want to bring up why I’m not there…” She trails off, at a loss.
“That’s fine. Pick something else,” I encourage.
“I don’t have much else. Dance and medicine. That pretty much sums me up.” The corners of Helen’s mouth turn down.
Even I don’t know where to go from there. I lean back and stretch while I think, which pulls the robe open at my chest. Helen glances at my nipple ring and reddens. Oops. I pull the robe closed, weirdly self-conscious. “Is there something you want to do? A new hobby or something?”
Her gaze drifts to the glass door that leads to the patio and the ocean beyond. “I’ve always been so busy with work I never thought much about adding something else into my schedule, but there is this one thing…”
I perk up at that. “What?”
I realize she’s not looking at the ocean—she’s staring at my surfboard, propped up on the wall next to her potted plants, right where Anthony left it.
“Surfing?” I exclaim, more excited than I’ve been since I broke my leg. The darkness that I’ve kept hidden retreats. I haven’t touched the ocean since the accident, and just thinking about it makes something loosen in my chest. The idea of sharing that with Helen? It hits me low and hard, sparking a happy, fizzy anticipation I didn’t expect.
She pulls her eyes away from the board and looks at me, uncertainty shimmering there. “It’s a stupid idea—”
“No! No, it’s not,” I say, practically bouncing, at least as much as I can with my cast. “I can help you. I can teach you.”
“I’ve watched the surfers from my balcony, and it looks so beautiful, how they move in the water. Almost like a ballet in the waves. I…well…” She hesitates, then rushes on, “I wondered if I could do that too. I mean, it’s right out my back door. Seems like a waste not to learn, but I’ve been intimidated. I didn’t have time before.” Her chin wobbles, and I know she’s thinking about the suspension, but I meant it when I said she’s strong. She proves it when she presses her lips together and pulls up tall.
“Maybe I can learn?” Looking up from under her lashes, she hesitantly asks, “Do you really think you can teach me?”
“Absolutely,” I say with total confidence, which is probably unearned since I’ve never taught anyone before. Heck, no one taught me. Jamie and I just started throwing ourselves into the waves, mimicking what we saw the more skilled surfers do. That’s how I learned, but I’m sure I can translate how I surf into words that will teach Helen. There’s so much I don’t know, things I’m not confident about, but surfing is the one thing I’m good at. Out on that board is where I feel most myself.
“How’s it going to work?” She casts a doubtful look at my cast. “You can’t go out on the beach right now and definitely not into the ocean.”
I laugh, my first real one since I almost drowned. “Surfing doesn’t start in the ocean. You graduate to that level. It starts on dry land.” I rise from the couch and hop on my good foot toward the balcony.
“Come help me drag the board in here,” I call over my shoulder.
