Page 9 of Call It What You Want
Heading down the back staircase that leads to the kitchen, I make a beeline for the back door. Normally, I wouldn’t surf this late in the day, but it’s the only other thing that can give me refuge and get me out of my head for a while.
The air outside is crisp, and I nod to the security guy, Yates, as I head across the lawn and down the dirt path that leads to Rush Beach. This stretch of beach is private, so the second my feet hit the sand, I start stripping down.
We have our wetsuits draped over the large boulders to dry. Naked, I slide into mine, then grab my shortboard, attach the leash, and head out into the water. The second the water hits my skin, I exhale, long and slow. All the stress from the past few hours melts away.
The salt stings my skin as I paddle out, but I welcome it. The waves are choppy as fuck at this hour, and the sun is blaring down, but it doesn’t matter. The quiet tranquility the ocean offers is fucking bliss, and I just sit on my board and wait for the waves I know won’t come…
My thoughts drift to the one face that’s haunted me for years now…
Ava.
For so long, she was this ethereal figure in my head, just a fleeting memory of the one time in my life when I was actually fucking happy. Until the fates intervened and my entire world went to shit…
Now, that ethereal ghost from my past is upstairs.
In my bed.
And she hates me.
How’s that for luck? The one person who’s ever felt like home hates my guts. But how can I blame her? Hell, I’d hate me too if I were in her shoes.
I’m out on the ocean for a couple of hours, and there isn’t one wave worth catching. Eventually, I paddle back to shore. When I get there, Christian is sitting on the sand.
“The waves are shit today.” He leans back casually, squinting against the sun.
I’m dripping wet, and I don’t have a towel. I remove the leash and set my board aside, then pull my wetsuit down to my hips. “Tell me something I don’t already know,” I say, sinking down next to him. “I needed to get some fresh air, clear my head.”
“Going that well with Ava, eh?”
“She’s pissed, but she’ll get over it eventually.”
Christian laughs. “That’s not my experience with women, but whatever. Speaking of problems that don’t go away easily…” He tosses Ava’s phone in my lap. “I handled the texts like you asked.”
Thankfully, she hadn’t changed her security code in three years.
“Thanks. What’d you tell them?”
Christian shrugs. “That she’s feeling overwhelmed, needs a break, and crashed at a friend’s place last night. But, dude, thatstory is only going to work for two, maybe three days tops. Eventually, the dad and the boyfriend are going to start asking questions.”
Ava’s phone feels heavy in my hand. “No worries. I’ve got things under control.”
Christian has his arms flung over his knees, looking at me. “So, um, I heard from Roman that Byron’s been asking questions about the article. About Missouri.”
Byron Pembroke is a member of the Burning Crown’s senior council—the older generation, who’ve earned their seats through blood and years of service.
Of course, Byron would be sniffing around. The Senior Council has eyes everywhere.
My jaw tightens. “What kind of questions?”
“The kind that suggests old business might not be as buried as we thought.” Christian hands me the blunt. “But don’t worry about it, man. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out.”
Yeah, I’m not so sure. And I can’t count on that.
I stand, my thoughts racing ahead to what needs to happen next. I’ve always been a planner, someone who maps out every angle, who never leaves anything to chance. And I’m sure as fuck not going to start now.
But, damn, Ava is going to hate me for this.
“I’ve gotta run,” I say, already moving toward the house.
