Objectively, she’s stunning—long dark hair, golden sun-kissed skin, hazel eyes that shift between green and brown—but I never understood it. How people could fawn and obsess over someone they didn’t even know. When I was on trial, other inmates would fixate on magazines—models and actresses.
I’d never felt anything when I looked at photos of those women, never felt anything when I looked at men either.
Even standing in front of me now, she doesn’t cause my heart rate to pick up. I don’t feel anything—outside my frustration with this current training regimen.
“Being here centers me now. It brings me back to myself and the reason I do this, the reason I love to surf. I’m not focused on the waves or what performance I’m going to pull from them. I’m focused on myself. Tricks and shock aren’t the reason we train in Celestia Cove. It’s purpose you need to find here before you go anywhere else.”
Surfingismy purpose.
I thought that was made clear before I arrived here. What else is there for me to discover?
It’s not worth arguing with her, though. She’s tough as fucking nails, and she has two Olympic medals to toss in my face if I want to try telling her I think she’s wrong. Plus, she’ll make me do push-ups until I’m crying, which was what most of my Tuesday morning looked like.
I like Liv, though. We’ve developed a camaraderie over the past week, and I find myself secretly hoping she’ll continue to train with us this summer, even after Leo returns. She says she sees something in me, and she doesn’t peg me as the type of person who says things she doesn’t mean. It’s been motivating.
“I know what you mean,” I murmur.
Her lips tilt up. “I’m sure.”
I head over to the cooler we bring down every morning, filled with electrolyte drinks and water. I pull one out and guzzle it down when I notice three figures descending the stairs from the top of the cliff.
Leo is unmistakable, leading them with some kind of huge backpack strapped to his shoulders. I assume the woman behind him is his wife, Darby, because the person trailing her is also unmistakable.
Willow.
I haven’t seen her since Monday morning. She’d clearly been crying and tried to hide it as soon as she realized I’d joined her. I hadn’t intended to impose, I just didn’t expect to see anyone else at the beach so early. She was painting, and though clearly incomplete, her canvas was beautiful. I don’t hold a particular interest in art, but I’ve spent enough time in the gallery to know something good when I see it, and Willow’s painting was great.
I wondered if I’d find her working on it again Tuesday, but she wasn’t there. Not any other day this week, either. I never saw her around the boardwalk, or even on her parents' property.I almost wondered if she’d disappeared, if maybe she was something I’d imagined, but now that she’s in front of me again, I’m reminded she is very, very real.
Her tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes haunted me all week. I wanted to ask her what was wrong, and then I’d question why I cared to begin with. The longer I went without seeing her, the more curious I became—and I don’t have time to be curious.
I’m supposed to be focused, and I’m supposed to stay away from her.
I should be annoyed, because I’m certain her presence is why her father has been unavailable. I was angry about it, about what he said to me on Friday evening—telling me to stay away from her like I’m some kind of fucking pariah. I mean, sure, I had a felony charge on my record. Knowing the background I came from, I’d wouldn’t want my daughter going anywhere near a guy like me either, but it wasn’t as if I’d been planning to pursue her. If he’s so confident I’m a threat, why did he allow me here to begin with?
After I found Willow crying, I started putting two and two together. Something happened to her, and Leo needed the week off to take care of it. I thought it would bother me, but instead I’ve found myself longing to ask them what happened, ask where Willow is, and if I’d see her again.
Now, instead of being angry with Leo, I’m upset with myself for being so goddamn curious about his daughter.
When the Graham family reaches the beach and I get a clearer view of Willow’s face, she appears completely fine. All evidence of Monday’s tears is gone. They stop first at Liv, each hugging her. Liv holds Willow’s face, and whatever conversation they’re having seems serious. It’s hushed, Willow’s eyebrows are drawn, her lips twisted as she listens intently. The only thing I’m able to make out is a quiet, “I’m not going in the water, and I’mjust going to sit.” Liv responds, but I can’t hear it, and after a moment, Willow nods before they hug again.
I pull my gaze away and find Leo’s fixed on me. His face is stern, but as he closes the distance between us, a smile spreads over his mouth. “Hey, Weston. How has the week been?”
“Good.” I place the cap back on my drink.
“Liv said you’ve been doing well, and she has notes for me. I’ll evaluate those over the weekend, and we’ll develop a real regimen for you on Monday.”
“So you’ll be back Monday, then?”
He nods. “I will. This week has been...” He sighs. “Unexpected. But we’ll be able to really get started Monday. Liv also mentioned you have an attitude problem, but she has the worst attitude of anyone I’ve ever met, so I take that feedback with a grain of salt.” He grins. “Everett said you’ve been doing well at the shop.”
“Puedo escucharte, idiota,” Liv mutters.
“And I can understand you, Livia,” he teases.
My eyes flit to Liv, but more so to Willow standing beside her, laughing quietly. She turns her gaze to me, her eyes flaring before she slowly lifts her hand, offering me a wave. I wave back.
“Are you working today?” Leo asks.
