Axel Black is a legendary surfboard shaper. He burst onto the scene a year or so ago before I started on the Championship Tour, a young upstart with a knack for creating beautiful, utterly rideable boards. Soon he was making boards for the best in the business, a superstar in his own right, his waiting list a mile long.
Then he just disappeared.
Closed his workshop, put a single statement on Instagram saying he was taking a break for “personal reasons,” then wiped his social media and vanished off the face of the earth.
Now his boards are more sought after than ever, second- or even third-hand ones commanding huge prices. The rack of gleaming fibreglass in his workshop is worth a small fortune.
I’ve wanted one for ages. I found one online, a little while ago, but made the mistake of telling Zach about it. He flew to Hawaii, taking it for a test ride before I even knew he was gone, then buying it for himself and bringing it back. To be fair, it wouldn’t have been the right size for me, but the fact he did that still rankles within me. Another spike to the pain of being with him.
My mood drops again. I haven’t dared check my phone for any more messages. I wonder if I should block him, even though I know it will hurt him. Despite all the many ways he hurt me over the years, I don’t want to be cruel. And I know him better than just about anyone. There’s a deep vulnerability beneath the flash and glamour, a need to prove he’s good enough that he can never quite sate. Me dumping him is already a blow. Cutting him off completely will be another, and I can’t do that to him.
At least I have the cabin to hide in for the next few weeks. I still cannot believe my host is Axel Black. I have so many questions, but don’t want to ask them. He made his choice for his own reasons. It’s none of my business why he lives here now. Just as it’s none of his business why I’m here, either. I suppose I should have recognised him, but it’s been a while, and it’s not like I ever met him before or anything. Plus, as I say, he’s the very last person I expected to find when I came here.
I also hadn’t realised how hot he was. I’ve seen photos, of course, but it’s not the same as seeing him in person. His hair is longer now but, more than that, there’s a magnetism to him, something drawing me closer. It’s the only reason I can think of why I was so rude.
When he came out from the back of his shop, all tousled hair and broad shoulders, his tall frame clad in a black T-shirt and cargo shorts, I should have thanked him for letting me stay in his cabin, or at least asked if he could fix my board.
I should have realised he was the guy I bumped into on the beach. Should have apologised for how I acted, let him know I got help, say anything except ask him to sell me the surfboard. I don’t know what the hell was wrong with me.
Instead, I muscled my way into his workshop like some sort of idiot, ignoring his clear boundary. But that rack of boards! I barely registered the poster of me on the wall next to them, I was so taken by their pristine lines. It was like I was on autopilot. I wanted to apologise almost straight away.
That feeling dissipated somewhat when he took an attitude with me. Why the hell does he think I’d tell anyone about him!
Of course I thought about it, when I realised who he was. Just for a split second, I wanted to call Zach and tell him. The urge passed, leaving another little needle of pain behind. I can’t call Zach any more, and that hurts. We were friends as well as lovers, despite all he did to me.
But there’s no way I’m going to share Axel’s secret. I’ve only been here for a couple of days, but I get the feeling that this place is secret for a reason, that it somehow protects the magic held here, the alchemy of land and sea, of people living in harmony with it all. Telling people would mean an influx of tourists, probably more than the island could handle. And this paradise would be lost. I understood all of that in the time it took Axel to come so close he towered over me.
I kick at a loose stone, trying to blot out the memory of that face so close to mine. But something happened between us, something strange. Heat and dust and the warmth of him blending into some sensual alchemy. I kick another stone, harder, trying not to think of his strong jaw and well-moulded lips, or how much I wanted to kiss them.
It’s fucking ridiculous. I’m not here for romance, I don’t want to kiss Axel Black, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I was this close to telling him where to shove his deal, but then I thought of Dora. She would want the board repaired. I could wait, but I know Axel is one of the best. He can do it justice.
Bitterness sits like salt in my chest as I reach the cabin, the peaceful tropical setting at odds with the turmoil inside me. My leg is killing me, and I flop down on the bed, lying back, gazing up at the diaphanous canopy, the white painted timber ceiling. The fan whirs lazily, air drifting across me, feather-light. I watch it turn until my eyes close.
When I wake up it’s dark. Faint golden light comes around the shutters. I don’t know where I am for a moment. Then, as I sit up and swing my legs down, pain rushes through me and I remember. Hobbling to the window, I open the shutters to reveal a gold-streaked sky over a darkening ocean. The air is warm and soft, and all I can smell is the sea. It’s gorgeous.
And I’m alone, with a sore fucking leg, unable to surf for the next week at least.
Forget about finding myself, at least for tonight. I need to find some other people, or I’m going to go mad. I wash down a couple of painkillers with a glass of water, then grab a banana from the bowl of fruit. I eat it quickly, then get changed.
A few minutes later, I’m out the door.
ChapterTen
Jade
It’s only a short walk back to the village, the well-lit road lined either side with deep jungle. I don’t feel afraid, though. Something about this place feels as though violence has no place here. I’m not naive, of course. But there are far more monsters lurking among so-called civilisation than here beneath the rustling green leaves.
When I reach the village, the bar is open, thank God. I head inside, through the opening in the hedge. The empty space I saw yesterday is now full of people, some dancing, others sitting at tables or the bar. Fairy lights hang from the vaulted timber ceiling, candles glimmering on tables and along the bar. On the stage a three-piece band is launching into a cover of “Dangerous Woman.” It’s not too bad, to be honest, the lead singer hitting all the high notes.
I grin, weaving through the crowd, finding a stool at one end of the bar where I can sit and people-watch. This feels more like it. The bartender, a woman with dark hair shaved at the sides and long on top, a sleeve of tattoos along one arm, comes over.
“What’ll you have?”
I wonder whether to have a shot. But that might be a bit too hard, especially as I’ve just taken painkillers. I notice a specials board. “Uh, the frozen coconut daiquiri?” Hopefully it will dilute the alcohol enough.
I haven’t eaten enough today, I realise. So maybe I’ll just have the one drink and go. But it’s nice being here. Nice being anonymous, not being hustled into a VIP area or pushed out of the way by girls trying to get to Zach, not realising I’m part of the deal as well. Nice just to sit and watch people, without them watching me.
My drink arrives and I pay, tipping generously. It looks amazing, icy and pale in a large bowl-shaped glass, a chunk of coconut balanced on the frosted rim. It tastes like tropical heaven. I polish it off quickly, and order another. Relaxation pours through me. I close my eyes, enjoying the feel of the ice sliding down my throat.
