I sat up and stared at him. “It’smyspot. Of course I still come here.”
He looked exactly the way he had the first time I brought him here. Showed him my secret spot and introduced him to my friends. Colt had passed without trying too hard. People liked him. He was easy to like, especially when he showed humility on the board.
He’d been decent. Better than most beginners. He had the athletic instincts and the body for it. Strong and athletic. But he’d been stiff, which was about the only thing he’d been doingwrong. I had spent a fair amount of time standing behind him on the sand talking him through it. And maybe all the touching wasn’t entirely necessary, but it sure had been fun.
He got really good in no time. I was still better, but back then, he was better than a lot of the locals. I wondered if he’d kept it up or if this was his first time back on a board since he’d stopped coming to Surfside.
“I heard about Front Street,” I said.
He exhaled through his nose. “Yeah.”
“Seaweed and dog shit, from what I heard.”
“A lot of dog shit,” he said. “A truly impressive amount.” The corner of his mouth pulled up despite himself. “Whoever did it was committed. You have to respect the effort even while you were gagging.”
“Someone’s sending a message.”
“It wasn’t you, was it?” He glanced at me sideways, that slow look that used to give me butterflies.
I smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
He looked at me, trying to find the truth. I did not have the energy or the collection of dog waste required for that kind of operation. But I was not going to tell him that. Let him wonder if it was me.
We floated in silence for a little while. The water moved us gently. I had forgotten how comfortable silence could be with him. That had always been one of the things that I appreciated the most. Most people filled quiet with noise. Colt never did. He seemed to crave it. I knew his life in Texas was stressful. His summers in Surfside were about relaxing, so I never hounded him with a bunch of questions.
“How’s your dad?” he asked.
“Good,” I said. “Really good, actually. Healthy. He’s in better shape than most men half his age.” I paused. “He moved outabout a year ago. Got himself a condo over at that new place on Pelican Drive. It’s a fifty-five and over community.”
“He gave up the beach house?”
“Passed it to me and Becca.” I trailed my fingers through the water. “I think he was ready. New chapter kind of thing.” I smiled a little. “He’s been walking with a woman named Sheryl.”
Colt looked at me. “Yeah?”
“Yep.”
“He’s a good man,” Colt said quietly.
“The best one I know,” I said.
“You good with it?”
I appreciated that he asked. “I am.”
“Have you met her?”
“Not yet.”
“Becca?” he asked.
“Good. Happy.” I looked back at the shore. “Her kids are incredible. River is seven and already reading books that make my head hurt. Ocean is nine and exactly like my dad. Two peas, those two.” I paused. “They’re living with me at the house. It works.”
“She get divorced?”
“Yes. Things got bad. She called my dad. He rented a U-Haul and moved her out that day. He moved her into the beach house with him. And after about nine months, he moved into the condo and I moved in with Becca.”
“Is he still around?” Colt asked.