“Because I saw her face, too. If she has the hunger, we have a responsibility to feed it. I’m glad you’re teaching her, Rowan. Either way, come tonight. Everyone wants to see you.”
Lea had always been pushy. Rowan had always said no.
Why did it feel different this time? This stirring of curiosity to take the next step on the beach and see everyone again?
“Maybe.”
Lea grinned. “Best answer I’ve had in a while. See you tonight at six.”
“I didn’t say I’d—”
“Let’s go, Brie.” Without another word, they left the shop. Rowan muttered under her breath. Things were getting messy lately, and she wasn’t sure how to clean it up.
She tried to push the thoughts aside to focus on the upcoming lesson.
And wondered if Everett would be there.
He’d made a mistake.
Everett watched Kelsey and Rowan out in the surf. His daughter’s hair was slicked back, with no care to how she looked. Her brows creased with concentration when Rowan corrected or taught her something. When she fell, she laughed instead of getting mad at herself. Everett had seen her throw a tennis racket with frustration, or drop a sport after the first game because she hated it. He felt like he was watching a different person.
But he shouldn’t be here.
He paced in the sand, half enjoying the sight of his daughter blooming, half worried about what he’d left behind. His brain kept running checklists. He’d delayed the progress meeting with New York. He’d walked away from a team who needed him to lead them past the finish line.
Instead, he was here on a beach.
His phone buzzed once. He ignored it.
Buzzed again.
Rowan looked back. “You can answer it.” Her voice was steady but crisp. “I’m not taking attendance and this isn’t a test.”
He shot her a look. “I said no phones.”
“You said you’dtry. There’s a difference.”
He exhaled through his nose. “You’re very literal.”
“Occupational hazard, teaching beginners. We have to explain basic things.”
It was supposed to land as a joke. It didn’t.
The phone buzzed again, long and insistent. He finally pulled it out. The screen glared in the sun—three missed calls and a message from Jessica, flagged urgent.
Shit.
He stepped back from the surf and read the text.
Full team at site now. Matthew asking for you.
His thumb flew over the screen.
Be right there.
He swore quietly, already moving toward the car. He’d tried. He’d made a mistake. Kelsey and Rowan didn’t need him as an observer. He was needed to do the job he promised and he’d lost the vision.
The image of his father’s cold stare chilled him, even though he’d been dead five years. But the memory was worse than disappointment or anger. It reminded him if he didn’t do his job, he was nothing.
