Page 107 of Between the Lines

“I think so. I didn’t see it, but they said you got pulled under, and I’m assuming by the injury, your board and face collided.” She flashes a sympathetic smile. “Is it your first time surfing?”

EMS lifts me onto a stiff board, and I manage a croaky laugh. It hurts to move my face.

There’s nothing I can do but stare at the blue sky as they carry me into the back of the ambulance.

But three hours later, I’m waiting at the curb of the ER, a large discharge bill in hand, with a splint on my freaking nose and pain meds in my system.

A truck pulls up.

“Dude, what the fuck happened?” Matt jumps out, arms stretched wide, forehead scrunched in concern.

I hold up a hand, unable to return any type of facial expression.

“Let’s not talk about it.”

The whole drive back to my house, Matt keeps peeking at me.

“Please stop looking at me.”

“Your face is busted,” he says, running a hand over his mouth. “You going to tell me what the hell you were doing out there?”

“No.” I turn to look at him, but the pressure in my head makes it near damn impossible. “But take it from me, never buy a surfboard from Bali.”

It’s quiet in the truck’s cab, then Matt busts up laughing, and I shake my head gently, a semblance of a smirk on my lips.

Oh, and never fall in love.

When we get home, the first thing I notice is that Fia’s car is gone. Not that I’d want her to see me like this.

I toss my shit from the hospital on the kitchen counter, not bothering to turn on the lights.

“Hey, you sure you don’t want me to stay for a bit?” Matt taps the counter with his knuckles, worry creasing his face. “Make sure you’re good and stuff . . .”

“You’ve done enough already.” I hold up my bottle of meds. “I’m just going to take one of these painkillers and knock myself out. Again.”

He nods. “Alright, well, let me know if you need anything. I know you have Fia right there, but still, I’m around.”

I close my eyes and give him a thumbs-up. Right now is not the time to divulge my recent fuckup with Fia.

“Right.” I sigh, a wave of tiredness hitting me. “Thanks again.”

I want to text Fia, I want to rush over to the guesthouse the moment her car returns and talk to her, tell her I know I fucked up, but I’m in no state to grovel. I would only make things worse. Maybe this is the universe forcing me to give her the space she asked for—the space I don’t want to give her.

When Matt leaves, I grab the painkillers, a water bottle, and head upstairs, leaving all the lights off. The doctors ruled out a concussion, telling me I was lucky to walk away with a few scratches on my legs and a broken nose, but as I pull the blackout shades shut and lower myself into bed, I feel anything but lucky.

42

Fia

I’m reading a reply from Eddie when the familiar sound of a vintage Harley rumbles in the nearby parking lot. Luckily, it’s overcast today, and the park isn’t too crowded. A few families picnic in the grass under some oak trees, but Daisy and I have the swings all to ourselves.

Eddie: Cleaning will be done Thursday morning, you can move in by noon!

“In four days, we’ll be home,” I tell Daisy, with a sigh. But the sigh doesn’t feel like relief, not fully anyway. There’s still a stabbing pain in my chest, a hurt that’s anchoring me.

There’s no text from Caden yet. Not that I’d even text him back if I’m being honest with myself.

“Wasn’t sure if you’d show.” I smile sheepishly at Jesse as he walks towards the swings with his motorcycle helmet in hand, black leather boots crunching the mulch below.