His eyes jump to me over her shoulder and they’re not friendly. My jaw tightens, but I keep my face neutral.
I’ve been coaching him since he was fifteen—before I ever created The Saltwater Shredders surf team. He has raw talent but too much ego and not enough discipline. I shaped him into the surfer he is now, and pushed him harder than anyone else would.
He used to look at me like I was untouchable, like I was someone he looked up to, but that was before I left town and his sister when she needed me most. And in Zale’s mind, that’s unforgivable.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” I say evenly.
“Didn’t think I needed permission,” he replies, setting his sister down.
“You don’t.”
He narrows his eyes at me like he’s trying to decide whether that answer irritates him or disappoints him.
“Is the rest of the team doing okay?” I ask.
“Griffin’s holding down the fort like you told him to,” he answers.
“Good.”
His jaw shifts slightly and Zalea looks between us, tension rising.
“You’re staying with us, right?,” she asks quickly. “We have an empty guest room, but I can buy a bed tomorrow?—”
“No,” Zale cuts in. “I’m not making you buy furniture.”
“It wouldn’t just be for you.”
“It’s fine. I’ll take the couch.”
“You’re not sleeping on a couch.”
“I’ve slept on worse during comps,” he mutters. “Remember Huntington? I literally slept on a board bag.”
I almost smirk. “You complained the entire time.”
Zale looks at me, annoyed that I’m inserting myself into his conversation with his sister, but I could care less.
“Because you booked the cheapest Airbnb in all of California,” he shoots back.
“It built character.”
“It built back pain.”
For half a second, it feels like old times. Zale must realize it too because he straightens and his gaze hardens.
“You good leaving Koa and Maliah for this long?” he asks.
I hold his gaze. “I check in with them every few days. They’ll be fine.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t,” I reply, certain of it. “And even if it does, I’ll figure something out.”
Zale studies me for a long while, and then his eyes shift past me to the grocery bags in my hands.
“You do your own groceries now?” he asks. “Thought you would’ve hired someone for that.”
“Well, I don’t have a whole surf team to feed here,” I reply. “I can manage a couple bags.”
