I perk up, turning around in time to see Willow gliding through the double glass doors at the front of the store. Her smile beams as she rises onto her toes and hugs Everett. “Hi.”
“Are you coming over for dinner later?” he asks as he pulls away.
“Yeah.” She nods. “But I’m closing up Honeysuckle for my mom tonight, so I’ll be a little late.”
Everett’s wife, Dahlia, is Darby’s sister. Their daughter, Lucille, is Livia’s wife. The entire dynamic of this family and the people I’m working for is confusing as hell to me, but I can at least make out that much.
“How are you...” Everett’s words dissipate as his eyes dart to me. I immediately lower mine to the register in an attempt to not make it obvious my attention isn’t on the two of them. “Okay?”
Willow takes a beat to respond, but a soft, “Yeah. Okay,” leaves her mouth.
“Good.” His voice turns low, and I keep my gaze down, fiddling with the cash register.
I don’t know what to do with my hands. I press the button for the cash drawer, and it opens with a deafening pop. I jump back, startled.Why did I do that? I knew it’d make that noise.
I lift my head and find them both watching me. Everett’s brows are furrowed, lip slightly curled like he’s fighting the urge to ask if I’m stupid. Willow’s head is cocked, and she’s blinking at me with a bemused smile.At least someone finds me entertaining, I guess.
“Okay...” Everett drawls. “I’ll see you tonight, kid. Love you.”
“Love you!” she calls back as Everett leaves.
My mind has been stuck on Willow all week. Fixated on her bare skin since this morning. Reeling over the fact she wasn’t okay on Monday, but she seems better now. Everett all but confirmed my suspicions. Something happened to Willow, and I’m so damn curious to know what it was. If someone hurt her. If she’s truly okay now, or if that’s a mask she’s putting on to placate those she cares about. The same mask I wear around my foster parents.
Though I imagine the job is much tougher for her. She has so many people who love her.
I’ve never known what that feels like.
I told myself earlier, after making a complete fool of myself during my first training opportunity with Leo, that I’d stop thinking about her. I’d stop the curiosity from roaming free in my mind. There is absolutely no reason for me to be concerned about this girl I hardly know.
Our interaction this morning threw me off, and I was already tired from my practice with Livia. As soon as I got into the water with Leo, it was like I’d forgotten every basic aspect of surfing I’ve known all my life. I was way too aware of her. My eyes kept drifting to the far side of the cove where she paddleboarded in the calmer waters with her mom.
I lost focus. I looked awful. Leo was short and impatient. Frustrated with me, I think. I should be much better than the way I performed today. I am better than that. Today I was not the surfer he agreed to train. Today I wasted his time.
I can’t do that again.
So I vowed to stop thinking about her. To stop theorizing about what happened to her or who she is. I’m in Pacific Shores to get my life back on track. To be the surfer I was destined to become. It’s the only way to make sense of my life—and every terrible thing that happened to me and led me here. Every good thing too.
I can’t allow it to be all for nothing.
Plus, regardless of my curiosity—possible interest, even—she’s off-limits. Her father has already drawn a hard line—I’m not to entertain his daughter more than a passing greeting. Not that I needed the confirmation from him, anyway. I know I’d never be good enough for a girl like Willow.
“Hey, Wes?—”
“Do you need something?” I ask, my tone coming out far more accusatory than I intended. I meant to sound distant, uninterested, yet polite. Because I need to be distant. I need to be uninterested. But fuck—I’m not rude.
Willow rears back, pink lips pouting, blue eyes wide and blinking. “Oh. Um...” She crosses her arms, kicking out a hip defensively from the other side of the counter. She’s wearing a yellow tee and a pair of denim shorts beneath a white Honeysuckle Florals apron, and another pair of hand-painted sneakers. These are sage green, with multicolored flowers dotting the sides. “I just came by because...” She shakes her head, appearing flustered. “I normally close Honeysuckle around the same time as the surf shop, and I noticed your truck wasn’t in the lot when I pulled in earlier. I thought you may have walked here? Figured I’d ask if you wanted a ride.”
“That’s okay,” I say gruffly, but the words get trapped in my throat. Clearing it, I add, “I like walking.”
Which isn’t a lie. It’s also true that my truck sometimes refuses to start, and I’m too embarrassed of that happening in Darby and Leo’s driveway, so I haven’t even tried since I’ve been here.
“Are you sure? We’re actually all having dinner at Everett and Dahlia’s tonight... although it sounds like you heard that.” She laughs quietly, and I drop my head, heat creeping up my neck. “You know you’re more than welcome, right? We can go together after work.”
More than welcome? I hardly know these people. I’m certainly not family to them. I imagine being at that dinner party would feel a lot like looking at a completed puzzle and realizing you're a piece of something else that got stuck inside the box.
“That’s all right. I’ve been up since five this morning, so I’m pretty tired.”
She sighs, and the sound pulls my gaze back to her. Her eyes narrow, studying me in quiet agitation. “Are you always so... aloof?”
