Storm - Michelle Mankin Page 0,59

stow away all the beach gear.

“You got a few good ones too,” he said.

As he tied a knot in a rope to secure our boards to the roll bar, his biceps flexed distractedly. All of him was distracting, whether he was in his wet suit, or simply wearing a heather-gray tank top and aqua blue board shorts like he was now.

“Not like you.” I caught his eye, experiencing another shiver of pleasure from the visual connection.

Journey had a vastly different approach from mine to surfing, like a lot of things. He took on each wave like they were foes to be conquered, not friends to be won over.

“I got lucky a few times.” He shrugged a muscular shoulder.

Sadly, that shoulder shrug wasn’t as potent as it would have been before he’d gone to the public shower to change. No more wet suit turned down at the waist to reveal his dripping-wet chiseled torso and colorful skin.

“Cork was the one to really watch out there,” Journey said. “Even the shitty waves, he transformed into something spectacular.”

“Yeah.”

An analogy could be made to my life. Cork transformed even the bad stuff to good.

With love in my eyes, I looked over at my brother. Rinsed off and dripping water, he sat in one of our chairs with a beach towel draped around his hunched shoulders. He’d surfed until the last possible moment and was now scarfing down his second sandwich. The first one he’d practically inhaled.

“He has a symbiotic relationship with the waves.” I returned my gaze to Journey to find him watching me closely. “They lend him their energy, and he pays them homage.”

“I can see that.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Your style’s not much different.”

“I’m not at his level at all. Not even close.”

“Maybe not, but you’re experienced. You’re elegant out there. You dance on the water.” He swept his gaze over me, and even a foot away, I felt him and his gaze like a caress. “You’re beautiful to watch, Lotus.”

“Thank you.” I refocused on my brother, trying to catch my breath and get my rapid heartbeats to slow. “Cork turns everything into something good, not just the waves he surfs.”

“You two are really close.” Journey moved beside me, his gaze on Cork now too.

“He’s authentic, kind, and selfless.” My gaze burned like my heart did as I wished things were different for Cork. “Nothing about him is difficult to love.”

“You’re a lot like him,” Journey said softly.

I turned and stared at him, my mouth agape. His expression was sincere, his gaze steady, but I couldn’t allow myself to believe a compliment of that magnitude.

“You don’t really mean that.” I swallowed hard and looked away.

“I do. I mean it. I see you,” he said in that low rumble of his that melted me.

I trembled, fighting the current that had drawn me toward Journey since the beginning. It would be so much easier to surrender to that current than to fight it.

“You’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Aptly named. A delicate blossom above the water line like the flower you’re named for. That’s what most see, but there’s also those other captivating qualities beneath the surface.”

“How can you say that?” I swung around to look at him, barely able to frame the question as I reeled from his words.

“Abandoned by your mother. Your brother injured. Your father gone. Your own dreams certainly lost. But you remain who you are—lovely, sweet, and caring to Cork and your friends. Even to a new one like me. You’re a survivor. I am too, in my own way, but I do it for selfish reasons. You do it mostly for others. That’s pretty fucking amazing.”

How am I supposed to resist Journey when he says wonderful things like that?

Tears pricked my eyes. The desire to throw myself at him was strong. Too strong. I needed a moment to compose myself.

“Thank you,” I murmured as I backed away. “It’s getting late. I’d better go rinse off the saltwater and change.”

Turning, I walked away as fast as I could from him in my flip-flops. Ducking beneath the arroyo willows, I went, my rubber soles snapping on the packed sand. My nerves were frazzled. To anyone looking, it was obvious I was freaked out. Luckily, I didn’t run into anyone.

The facility was just a cinder-block building with a couple of restrooms and two rudimentary outdoor showers. Next to it was a concrete half wall, convenient for leaning surfboards against or throwing wetsuits over.

No one else was around at our section of the

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