“You’re not thinking about keeping it, are you?”
“I don’t know what to think,” I say, my voice cracking. “I only found out a couple hours ago. I’m still trying to process it all.”
“You’ve known for hours,” he says quietly. “And I’m just finding out now?” He exhales sharply. “Zalea…we can’t keep it.”
“I know,” I whisper, my chest aching as the words leave my mouth.
Why does saying it hurt so much? I know better than anyone that we can’t do this. We can’t be parents, and I can’t be a mom.
“Okay,” he says, breathing out hard. “Good.”
I nod, silent, trying to make sense of the tangle of grief and relief and fear twisting inside me.
“I’m sorry,” he adds after a moment. “That I won't be here to go with you to…terminate the pregnancy.”
“Terminatewhat?”
Both of us snap our heads up, finding Zale standing a few steps away, and standing behind him are my parents. My dad’s face is already darkening, his hands curling into fists as his eyes lock onto Gabriel angrily. Gabriel jumps to his feet, backing away slowly as my dad approaches.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” I say, and sure enough, I double over as everything I’ve eaten today comes back up onto the porch.
ELEVEN
ZALEA | FLORENCE
“So you’re quitting surfing,”Gabriel says after a long stretch of silence, “because youmightnot be able to have kids one day?” He shakes his head slightly. “I don’t understand what those two things have to do with each other.”
I look away, disappointment settling in my chest. A normal person might offer sympathy, or maybe say something reassuring. But even now—after everything—surfing is still the axis Gabriel’s world spins on.
“I don’t want to look back on my life and only have surfing to show for it,” I say. My heart is hammering as the pressure builds in my chest.
“So then do you even actually want kids, Z?” he asks, brows furrowed. “Because right now it just sounds like you need a break from competitive surfing to find something else you’re good at.”
“I don’t know what I want, Gabriel,” I say, standing up. “That’s why I’m here. To try and figure out if I’ve just been using surfing as a crutch. A way to fill all my free time so that I don’t have to think about what a future outside of that could look like.”
“But you love surfing,” he says, genuine confusion threading his voice.
“No,” I shake my head, standing up. “Ilovedsurfing.”
And somewhere along the way—when he chose it over me—I started hating it without realizing.
“What changed?” He crosses his arms, leaning back against the wall, brow still furrowed.
I don’t answer right away as I search for a version of the truth that won’t crack me open. Gabriel doesn’t need the whole thing. It wouldn’t change how he feels, or how I’ve felt all this time.
“I think it just feels lonely now,” I say finally. “It’s not the same for me anymore.”
“Easy fix.” He straightens, clapping his hands once. “Rejoin the Saltwater Shredders. You probably just miss being part of a team.”
I scoff and walk past him to the window. “That team made me miserable.”
“I promise it’s different now,” he says quickly. “Your brother and I barely argue anymore.”
“It wasn’t just that, Gabriel,” I say quietly. “It was you too.”
His head snaps back. “Me?”
“Being around you all the time after what happened…it was too hard.”
