“She doesn’t, really.” Cork’s brows dipped. “But she doesn’t want me lifting alone.”
Journey’s eyes widened. “Why the fuck not?”
“Can I talk to you a minute?” I gestured to the balcony. “Alone.”
“Sure.” Journey nodded, and I led the way, something that I was sure irked him.
I slid the door open. He closed it after he stepped out onto the balcony with me.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, and I turned around to face him.
“I wanted to talk privately. I don’t want Cork to feel bad or awkward about what I tell you.” I let out a breath and gave it to him straight. “My brother had a surfing accident when he was thirteen. Because of that, he can’t do certain things on his own anymore.”
I left out the more painful details. How terrible it had been for Cork to come to terms with his new life, and for my dad and me too.
“What happened?” Journey frowned. He wasn’t going to let me get away with skimming.
“Cork took to surfing from his first lesson and started entering competitions. He made the finals every time. Everyone was amazed at what he could do at such a young age. His air-reverses were effortless. I loved watching him, and so did my dad.”
Tears sprang to my eyes and my throat closed. I stopped, swallowed, and suddenly found myself wrapped up in Journey’s tatted arms. I leaned into him. His fresh ocean scent and his strength stabilized me.
“The day Cork’s accident happened, he was showing off for me here in OB, doing rotations one after another while darting between the pylons under the pier. He miscalculated, hit one, and got knocked off his board. Then another huge wave came along, slamming him into yet another pylon. His leash got severed and he went under.” I shuddered, seeing my brother disappear beneath the waves all over again.
“Lotus, fuck,” Journey said, his voice rough, and tightened his arms around me. “That must have been terrible.”
“It was the worst,” I said, clinging to him. “I was too far away on the shore to do anything. I felt so helpless.” And responsible.
“It’s not your fault, you know.” He eased back, lifting my chin with a finger, and gave me a firm look.
Stunned, I froze. No one had ever said so directly. I’d never admitted my guilt. I hadn’t even now, only thought it. But somehow, Journey knew.
I realized in that moment that the familiarity I’d felt in LA wasn’t because he looked like anyone I knew, but because he acted like someone I’d known. Storm had always intuitively understood me like that.
“But if—”
“Babe, I don’t know why this happened. No one knows why bad things happen to good people. I just know that it sucks that they do. And I know that you’re not responsible for what happened to Cork.”
“If I hadn’t been there . . . if he hadn’t been showing off to impress me . . .” I sucked in a breath, wishing like I always did that I could rewind time and change what happened that day.
“People make the choices they do. Cork made the choice he did. A thirteen-year-old boy?” Journey arched a brow. “I was a handful at that age, and I imagine he was too. Do you really think you had any control of him when he was in the water? Or anywhere else, for that matter?”
“I guess not,” I mumbled.
“Definitely not.” He framed my face and swiped the tears that had fallen away with his thumbs. “Who got him out of the water?”
“A nearby surfer dove down and got him. But I swam out and helped bring Cork in. There was so much blood. He wasn’t moving, and I thought he was dead.”
“But he wasn’t,” Journey said softly. “He’s here now. And he seems like a great kid.”
“He is a great kid. The best brother ever, but he hasn’t advanced cognitively the way he should. His judgment is dangerously faulty at times, so things like the weight room, surfing, and crossing streets unsupervised are out.”
“I’m sorry. Sorry for him. Sorry for you.” Journey moved his hands to my upper arms, gripping me firmly but gently. “It must be difficult for both of you.”
I nodded once, trying to extract myself from his arms because I should, not because I wanted to. I felt more secure in his embrace than I’d felt in a long time. But he only gripped me tighter.