I turn my head slowly, looking at the closet of clothes and the displays of jewelry and watches. I think of all the art in the house and the cars in the garage that have nothing to do with me anymore. A home full of things that were never a part of me, and I no longer desire them to be.
“Can you call Christie’s in the morning?” I ask Mirai, pulling the closet door closed and twisting around to look at her. “Let’s hold an auction. We’ll donate the proceeds to their favorite charities.”
“Are you—”
“Yes,” I cut her off, walking out the door. “I’m sure.”
“Thank you.” I smile, taking the breakfast burrito and my receipt.
Walking out of the small shop, I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt, protecting my AirPods from the light rain as “The Hand That Feeds”plays in my ears. I cross the empty walkway, bypassing the pier, and head out to the beach, sand spilling inside my Vans as my heels dig in.
The dark clouds hang low as the waves roll in, the morning sun hiding and the beach blissfully empty except for a couple joggers. Two surfers paddle out, their black wetsuits glistening. I plop down and shimmy out of my backpack, taking out my water bottle and sitting cross-legged as I unwrap the foil around my burrito.
I take a bite and stare out at the ocean, the salt and sea in the air making me smile a little.
Six weeks.
Six weeks back in California, and the days are getting easier. The auction will be happening soon, I’ve redecorated my bedroom and revamped some of the furniture in the house, and I’ve chosen a design school in Seattle to attend college in the fall. I have a few months to travel or do just about anything I want to do before school starts.
I’ve called Jake. He’s called me.
But he’s not much of a talker on the phone, adamant that I just need to come home and he’ll talk to me there when I do.
I’m not going home, though. I need to do this.
I finish my burrito and stuff my trash into my backpack, lifting my water bottle to my mouth. I might not be any happier than I was when I left, but I respect myself, at least. There’s no other choice.
I lie back, falling onto the sand, ready to feel the small drops on my face.
But as I look up, someone stands over me, looking down.
“Hey,” he says.
Noah?
I yank out my AirPods and shoot up, pushing my hood off my head.
“So this is Surf City, huh?” he says, dropping his boots to the ground and plopping down on the sand next to me.
I gape at him, unable to blink. “Wha—where did you come from?”
He smiles that Noah smile, and I can’t control myself. Tears shake my chest, and I dive in, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask.
“Well, you weren’t home,” he tells me, his arms tight around me. “And it was raining, so I took a chance.”
I let out a laugh, remembering I’d told him about me loving to come to Huntington Beach when it rains. Clever.
“Actually…” He lets me go, and I sit back to take in his new haircut and sun-kissed face. “My dad snuck a tracking app onto your phone when you weren’t looking after the Holcomb incident at the lake last August.”
Is that so? I roll my eyes.
Holcomb.
I hadn’t thought about him in a while. He pleaded guilty, Jake told me, and got fifteen months for arson, along with a few other charges.
“So, when did you get in?”
He thinks for a moment. “Six weeks ago?”
“Six weeks?” I blurt out. “You’ve been in L.A. for six weeks? Why didn’t you come to the house?”
He’s been here as long as I have. I haven’t been able to get ahold of him other than texts. Did he intend for it to be a surprise? Because, if so, it took him long enough.
Six weeks…
His tone softens, and he looks thoughtful. “I kind of needed to be alone, too.”
I stare at him, but I’ve got nothing to say. I get it. Shit happened.
The wind blows my hair, and I push it off my forehead as the rain slowly wets it. “It’s so good to see you,” I tell him.
“I hoped it would be.”
Does he have a place, then? He hasn’t been staying in hotels this whole time, has he?
Either way, I hope this means I’ll see him more now. At least until I leave for school.
“I’ve got a sponsor,” he chirps.
“That’s great.” I smile wide. “So, you have a team now.”
“He’s building one, yes.” He nods. “I’m the lucky first recruit.”
“He?”
“Jared Trent of JT Racing,” he tells me. “He’s an interesting guy. Kind of like a cross between my father and Kaleb.”
The mention of Kaleb gives me pause. Like I’d been pretending none of it was real, and here comes Noah to kick me in the stomach. Everything suddenly hurts.
But I force a laugh. “Yikes,” I say.
“I know.” His lips twist up, kind of forlorn. “He doesn’t talk much, and then when he does, you kind of wished he hadn’t.”
Yeah. Kaleb and Jake are like that.
“But…he likes what I can do,” Noah continues. “That’s who I need in my corner.”
I’m glad he found what he was looking for. I hate that he thinks he never had that already, though.
“You have so many in your corner.” I gaze at him. “Just wait.”
I wrap my arms around his arm and lay my head down on his shoulder, both of us watching the waves roll in. I’ll be at every race I can, and I’m going to brag about him to all my friends.
As soon as I make some.
“You can ask me about him, you know?” he says in a low voice.
I drop my eyes, not saying anything. I’m desperate to hear anything about Kaleb.
And not. He’s obviously alive, so he’s eating, sleeping, and breathing just fine without me, even though some days I feel like my insides are on the outside.
“Dad says he left for the fishing cabin after you left, and he’s been gone ever since.”
I shake my head. “Let’s not talk about him.” I look up, meeting Noah’s eyes. “What about you? Are you happy?”
He looks down at me, and I wonder why it couldn’t be him.
He’s so easy to love.
“Do you resent me?” I whisper when he doesn’t answer.
He hoods his eyes, a gentle smile curling his lips. “You were right, Tiernan,” he says. “I was in love but with something else.”
Racing.
“I have my future now,” he tells me. “I’m really happy.”
I lay my head down again, letting out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding for months.
Laying his head over mine, he kisses my hair and we watch the ocean.
“He loves you to death, you know?” he says.
Needles prick my throat as a tear spills down my cheek. “He’s still in that car, Noah.”