Page 95 of Between the Boards
“Colton.”
I stop talking.
He rubs a hand over his beard before looking straight ahead. “You don’t gotta explain yourself to me, and you sure as hell don’t owe me an apology for wanting a different life.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly as I blink at him.
He exhales slowly. “I shouldn’t have given you that ultimatum.”
The words hit harder than I expect and I have to look away so that he doesn’t see my eyes turn glassy.
“I was holdin’ on too tight,” he admits quietly. “After we let your sister run off to Hollywood, I think I panicked.” He lets out a humourless chuckle. “Thought if I held on hard enough, maybe I wouldn’t lose another kid too.”
“You didn’t lose me,” I say immediately.
Dad finally looks over at me then, eyes sharp beneath the brim of his hat.
“That so?”
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
A beat passes.
“Good.” He nods once. “That means you’ll be comin’ out here for Sunday dinners when there’s no competition, right?”
A smile pulls at my mouth before I can stop it. “Yeah,” I say softly. “I can do that.”
He lifts his beer bottle toward mine and I clink the neck against his with a quiet crack. From inside the house, music suddenly drifts through the open kitchen window. It’s some old country song my mother only ever plays when she’s in a good mood.
He groans under his breath. “Your mother’s celebratin’ already.”
I snort because knowing my mother, she was definitely standing by the window listening in.
A second later, my father starts singing quietly along to the chorus and I stare at him in disbelief for approximately two seconds before joining in under my breath too. By the second chorus, we’re both singing low and horribly off-key while pretending not to notice it.
Dad takes another drink before casually asking, “So I hear you got a girl. Will she be joining us for Sunday dinners?”
I choke on my beer, coughing hard into my fist. “Dad!”
He looks over at me, unimpressed. “What? I was just curious.”
I shake my head, wiping my mouth. “One thing at a time, Dad.”
He hums beside me. “Alright, alright.”
He takes another drink, resuming his humming, and I can’t help but smile at how painfully normal this feels, so much so that my chest aches. This is what I’ve been missing all these years, and I’m glad I could get it back.
Now all that’s left is to get Kairi back, for real this time.
THIRTY-TWO
KAIRI
Mood boards are spreadacross a massive oak table alongside product mockups, ingredient lists, packaging samples, and enough sticky notes to drive me crazy. In the five days that Colton’s been gone, Gabriel was able to find me a small but mighty brand—Costal Current—right here in the heart of Saltwater Springs to collaborate with to create products for surfers of colour.
Through the wall of windows next to me, I can see local surfers out on the early afternoon waves while tourists crowd the Saltwater Springs boardwalk below. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I belong.
“Okay, but hear me out,” Simran, a beautiful girl from Delhi, India, and the marketing genius behind this project, says as she leans forward in her chair. “If I paddle out with this sunscreen on and come back looking like a ghost, I’m never using it again.”
