Nah. She was out ofhisleague. She was very much in mine. Beautiful. Bold. Fearless in a way that still had my veins surging with the thrill of the rescue.
Either I’d just had my first mermaid encounter, or I’d met a true goddess of the sea.
And I missed my fucking chance.
CHAPTER 1
SUMMER
7 years later
The sun beat down on my shoulders as I stood waist deep in the ocean, watching my surfing students, also known as my little fish, navigate their boards with increasing confidence. Grinning, I shielded my eyes with one hand while using the other to point to a swell coming in that would be perfect to practice their pop-ups.
“Remember to keep your weight centered,” I called out to Lily. “You’ve got this!”
She flashed me a determined grin before heading out again. Her arms paddled ferociously, sending sprays of water up her back and over her board. A few other kids gave chase, but they couldn’t keep up with her broad strokes and body awareness. She kept her core tight, just as I’d taught her, and that helped her ride the waves as they rolled beneath her without costing her distance.
Brave little minnow,I thought.
The stronger Lily and my other students got, the less likely they were to become a statistic out here in the ocean. I’d had my fair share of bad falls and wipe outs, knocked my head a few times, and learned just how terrifying it could be to be dragged under a wave, raked across coral, all while having only a little bit of air left in my lungs. If my little fish listened, practiced, and didn’t panic, they’d know how to handle even the most terrifying situations out there on the waves.
Minus shark attacks. They were shit out of luck if that happened.
“Miss Summer?” Tyler, one of my more advanced students, paddled toward me. “How come you don’t have a husband?”
The bright sun probably illuminated every furrow in my brow as I blinked at him. I laughed, not having the heart to tell him that was just a little rude.
“Well, little fish, not everyone wants to get married,” I said, reaching out to ruffle his salt-crusted hair.
He pursed his lips and looked way too thoughtful for his young age. “That’s not what my dad says. He says every woman wants to get married.”
“Your dad sounds like a wise man,” I replied diplomatically. In the back of my mind, I thought I would like to have a conversation with the man teaching his son such bullshit, but this was not my kid and definitely not my husband. Not my problem. “But let’s focus on your stance. You’re leaning too far forward on your drop.”
The deflection worked, and Tyler was soon absorbed in perfecting his technique. I smiled as I watched him paddle out again, thinking about his question. It wasn’t the first time I’d heard similar sentiments. But I was twenty-seven, not eighty-seven. And even if I was an old lady, it was still my choice. Not everyone wanted to get married. Not everyone needed that tofeel complete. Besides, who could compete with what I already had?
I watched my students pop up and ride the waves back toward me. Some fell. Others shot their arms in the air after their first victorious ride of the day. Some, like Tyler, coasted calm, cool, and collected until the swell died and they dropped back down on their boards. Behind them was nothing but the expanse of blue horizon.
I had everything I needed right here in Surfside. And then some.
After the final lesson of the day, I collected my boards and trudged up the beach toward home. The late afternoon was at my back. My muscles were twitching after the last swim to rescue one of my students who’d fallen off. She was in no real danger, but there was always that sense of urgency that made my muscles clench.
“Hey, Aunt Summer!” River called from the porch as I approached our beach house. She was sitting with her feet propped on the railing, face buried in a book. “Your nose is sunburned.”
I paused at the bottom of the patio steps, struck a pose with my hand on my hip, and showed her my profile. “It’s my signature look.” I ran my index finger down my nose from my brow to the tip. River giggled. “Where’s your brother?”
“Inside with Grandpa.” She turned a page without looking up. “They’re playing chess again.”
I continued up the steps. “Ah, that’s why you’re out here.”
Grandpa and Ocean were very competitive. My dad did not believe in letting anyone win, even if they were nine years old. Ocean was not the kid to back down and he gave as good as he got, which was why my dad loved hanging out with him. Two peas in a pod despite fifty years between them.
I pushed through the screen door, which squealed before falling back with a loud clap. The interior of our beach house was blessedly cool. The floorboards, which had been painted white a decade ago and had been peeling ever since, creaked beneath my steps. Sheer white curtains fluttered softly in the afternoon breeze rolling up the beach. Our little home was nothing like the monstrosities that had popped up along the shore in the twenty years since my father owned the place, but it was ours. It was home. And it worked for us.
I jogged upstairs to my room to take a quick shower to rinse off the salt and sand. With a towel wrapped around me, I started the process of moisturizing. My skin took a lot of maintenance with all my time in the saltwater and under the sun. I applied coconut oil to my sun-kissed skin, a ritual I’d adopted when I first started teaching surfing. It was the only thing that kept the scaly-scaries away and ensured my year-round tan looked more “radiant goddess” and less “Sahara Desert.”
My phone buzzed on the dresser. Capri, my best friend, biggest cheerleader, and confidante.
“Hey, you,” I answered on speaker as I rubbed the oil into my legs.