Page 94 of Between the Boards
My mouth actually falls open.
“And when that article came out about you and Griffin fighting at the bonfire like a year or two ago?” Cooper shakes his head. “Dad almost drove down to Saltwater Springs himself to pick a fight with Griffin.”
I stare at him, completely speechless. My father has never called, never said he’s proud, and most definitely has never said he misses me. Cooper just smirks at the look on my face before nudging his horse forward.
“C’mon, surfer boy,” he says over his shoulder as he takes off down the hill, and after a stunned second, I follow.
By the timewe ride back up to the house, the sun is higher in the sky, and sitting on the front porch steps, elbows braced on his knees with a beer bottle dangling from one hand, is my father.
Well shit.
Cooper notices him at the same time I do and glances sideways at me slowly, already looking amused.
“Nope,” I mutter immediately, pulling lightly on Chestnut’s reins. “Not happening.”
“Oh yes it is.” Cooper grins.
He reaches across the space between our horses and shoves hard against my shoulder.
“What the fuck?—”
I nearly fall right out of the saddle, barely catching myself before my boots slam awkwardly into the dirt. Chestnut huffs in annoyance beside me and Cooper grabs both sets of reins before I can recover.
“Looks like you’re walkin’ from here.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you need to talk to Dad.” He starts leading both horses toward the stables. “I’ll go muck the ranch for ya.”
“You mean muck the stalls?”
“That too.”
“Coward,” I call after him.
He just lifts a hand without turning around while I stand frozen in place debating whether I can run off somewhere into the hills, but eventually I force myself to head toward the porch to get this over with.
My father looks up as I approach and for a moment, neither of us says anything. He reaches beside him, grabs a second beer bottle, and holds it out. I stare at it like it might explode.
“Thought we might try this again,” he says gruffly.
Kinda early to be drinking, I want to say—but I don’t.
Instead, I slowly take the bottle and lower myself onto the step beside him, the wood creaking under my weight. He twists the cap off with ease before taking a long pull from his own bottle.
“Your mom told me to sleep out on the front porch until I make nice with you,” he mutters. “Managed to sneak back in halfway through the night and cozy up on the couch.”
A laugh threatens to break free from my lips immediately and I try to hide it behind my beer bottle, but apparently I inherited none of my mother’s subtlety because my father catches it instantly.
“Little shit disturber,” he grumbles.
A laugh bursts out of me, and my fathers mouth twitches like he’s fighting one too. When the silence settles between us again, I stare out at the property, taking a slow sip of beer.
“I’m sorry for letting you down, Dad,” I say quietly.
He sighs heavily beside me but I keep going.
“I shouldn’t have left things the way I did,” I continue. “I just…I wasn’t happy here anymore and surfing was the only thing that ever made me feel?—”
