“Better than that,” Lea said. “You lived.”
They floated for a long while, the horizon opening wide around them. Rowan traced the koa wood down her board. “I thought I lost this part of me.”
Lea nudged her board close. “You don’t lose who you are, babe. You just forget for a bit. Then you paddle back.” Rowan swallowed hard, salt and sunlight mixing in her throat. “Next comp’s in the fall.” Her voicewas super casual. “You don’t have to enter. But I want you there. Even if it’s just on the beach with the girls.”
Rowan’s smile wobbled. “You never quit, do you.”
“Wouldn’t be any fun if I did.”
They shared a grin. And when they caught the next set together, Rowan didn’t think—she justmoved. And for the first time in years, it didn’t hurt.
It felt like coming home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Everett Hale didn’t expect to see Wolfe Wells walk into the Purity lobby without warning.
The man still had a presence that made people straighten instinctively. Broad shoulders, sleeves rolled to his elbows, that snake tattoo curling over his collar like it had its own pulse. The matching leather bracelet cuffs he always wore had spawned a host of men trying to imitate the look, reminding Everett of the friendship bracelet craze with Taylor Swift. He looked more like a legend who had wandered off a surfboard than a billionaire developer and the owner of Purity Hotels.
“Holy shit,” Everett muttered, already moving from the front desk, where he’d been holding a short meeting with staff. “Wolfe?”
Wolfe grinned when he spotted him. “There he is! The golden boy of Waikiki.”
“Didn’t know you were coming,” Everett said, shaking his hand. “I would’ve had the red carpet—”
“Relax,” Wolfe cut in. “I don’t do red carpets. Or warning emails. Figured I’d drop in, see what you’ve built before I start hearing about it from the suits in New York.”
Everett gestured around them. “Then welcome to Purity Waikiki.”
Wolfe’s gaze swept the open lobby: the sky-high ceiling embracing sunlight, the spill of fresh flowers throughout, the comfortable seating arrangements sprawled throughout the endless space. The floors weremilled from reclaimed monkeypod wood polished to a low satin glow that invited bare feet more than designer shoes. Handwoven lauhala mats softened the walkways, and the air carried the faint, clean scent of plumeria and salt.
Instead of glossy marble, the reception desk was carved from a single slab of koa, the edges left raw so it looked as though it had drifted in from the beach. Behind it, a living wall of native plants climbed toward a skylight, their leaves shifting in the trade winds from the open doors.
“Feels alive,” he said after a beat. “Like it belongs here instead of sitting on top of it.”
“That was the goal,” Everett said. “Can I give you the grand tour?”
Wolfe grinned. “Exactly why I dropped in.”
“Let me get our GM here to accompany us.” Everett shot out a text and moments later, Matthew strode toward them. His smile was polite, but there was a subtle ownership to the way he carried himself, as if he assumed Wolfe was here to evaluatehisdomain.
“Mr. Wells,” Matthew said smoothly, shaking his hand. “A pleasure. Welcome to Purity Waikiki. I’ve been overseeing final preparations.”
Wolfe nodded. “Good to meet you.”
They started the tour. Wolfe moved with relaxed confidence, while Matthew hovered half a step ahead, clearly positioning himself in Wolfe’s line of sight.
“We built the foundation with local volcanic aggregate to limit imports,” Everett said as they walked. “Solar panels handle seventy percent of the power needs. Water filtration’s fully recycled. Even the decor—woven pandanus, reclaimed koa wood—all sourced from the islands.”
Wolfe whistled low. “You’ve been busy.”
“We’ve also begun auditing guest experience pathways,” Matthew said. “Some of the local elements may be overwhelming for high-end travelers, so we’re curating which pieces stay and which get streamlined. A cleaner aesthetic appeals more universally.”
Everett shot him a look. “The point wasn’t universal appeal. It was authenticity.”
Matthew smiled, politely dismissive. “Authenticity within reason. Guests expect luxury, not an anthropology lesson.”
Wolfe’s gaze skipped between them—interest piqued, but his thoughts unreadable.
