Page 146 of We Are Just Us

Aubrey threw her arms around Rory’s neck. “I knew you’d win!”

“I didn’t win, bug.”

“You did to meee.”

Rory laughed and hugged her back. “Thanks.”

They stayed for another hour. Watched the other heats. Cheered for surfers they didn’t know. Aubrey built three more sandcastles and knocked them all down.

And Kieran took it in, watching them—a family. And for the first time in months, years, grief didn’t follow the thought.

FORTY-TWO

The day had stretched longer than Kieran had expected.

Heat after heat. Bracket after bracket. Surfers paddling out, catching waves, paddling back. Scores posted. Eliminations. Advancements.

Rory barely survived the first round, but the semi-finals were different. He surfed as if the pressure had finally released, sharper, more aggressive, and finished second. Good enough.

And now, here they were, late afternoon, the sun already starting its drop toward the water, and Rory was in the finals.

Kieran was more nervous than Rory seemed to be. Which was saying something, because Rory had been tense all morning. But now, watching him paddle out for the final heat, he looked calm and focused. Like he’d found some quiet center and was holding onto it.

Samantha, on the other hand, was not calm.

She’d been cool all day, encouraging but measured, commenting on technique, explaining scoring to Kieran when he asked. But Kieran had noticed that the longer the day went on, the more she started twirling her ponytail. A nervous tic, maybe. Or just a habit she fell into when she was trying not to show how much she cared.

Now, watching Rory paddle out for the final heat, she was practically wrapping her hair around her finger in a continuous loop.

“He’s got this,” she said. More to herself than to Kieran.

“He does,” Kieran agreed.

Aubrey had fallen asleep an hour ago, sprawled on a beach towel with her bucket clutched in one hand. Samantha had covered her with a light blanket, shooing away seagulls that got too close.

The announcer’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker, calling the final heat. Two surfers. Thirty minutes. Best two waves counted toward the final score.

Kieran could see Rory out there. Blue board. Sitting up, straddling his board, bobbing gently with the swell.

Next to him, maybe fifteen feet away, was the other surfer, younger than Rory. Confident posture.

The whistle blew. The heat started.

Kieran’s heart was pounding. He didn’t know why he was so nervous. It was just a surf competition. Local. Nothing huge. But it mattered to Rory, which meant it mattered to him.

The first wave came. The younger guy caught it. Rode it clean, pulled off a decent cutback. Solid score, probably.

Rory let it pass. Waiting for the right one.

The second wave. Rory started paddling. Kieran leaned forward, hands gripping his knees.

Samantha had stopped twirling her hair. She was watching, motionless.

Rory caught the wave. Popped up smooth. Started carving, fast, aggressive, exactly the kind of surfing Samantha had said he needed to do.

He pulled off a snap turn near the top, spraying water. Kieran heard people around them cheering.

Rory rode it almost to shore before kicking out. Clean. Strong.