MY WET BRAID dripped a river of cold water down my spine as I walked beside Storm, heading home after surfing. I had a big wet splotch on my T-shirt between my shoulder blades, and it was uncomfortable. But it wasn’t the only reason I felt out of sorts.
I was edgy because Storm was. Something was off with him today. I could see the tension in the tightness of his handsome features, and sense it radiating from his stiff frame.
Gnawing my bottom lip, I glanced over at him again. He’d gone silent since we were surfing and I’d brought up the subject of his dad.
“Stop looking at me like that.” Giving me a glance, he bumped my shoulder.
“Like how?”
“Like you’re afraid I’ll come unhinged if you say the wrong thing to me.” He turned his head, and my breath caught when I saw how stark his expression was. “That’s how other people look at me. That’s how I feel about striking up a conversation, any conversation with my old man. But that’s not how I want you to feel when you’re with me, Lilly. Not ever.”
“I’m sorry I put you on the spot, asking about him earlier.”
“He’s never far from my mind. He’s not going away, and I can’t escape him if I stay here.” Storm scrubbed a hand over his face. “That’s why I have to leave.”
“Leave OB?” I asked softly, my heart sinking to dark depths. I didn’t like to think about anyone leaving, least of all Storm.
“Yes,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I have to. I’m sorry.”
“You’re talking about when you get older. Right?” We still had years to enjoy being friends, and for things to potentially change between us.
“No, not when I get older. Now. I applied for a job at the shipyard last week. They want me to start as soon as I turn sixteen.”
“But what about school?” My mouth parting, I gulped for air. My chest was so tight, I felt like I was breathing through a clogged snorkel.
“I’ve never been interested in school the way you are. I just want to play my music. I can work during the day. Try for gigs at night.”
My head spun. “You’ve given this some thought.”
“I’ve given it more than thought,” Storm said firmly. “It’s decided.”
“You decided something this big, separate from me?” I asked, my voice tinny with panic. My stomach hurt. Fear made me feel small and insignificant, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since Storm had become my friend.
“I’m telling you now. First, before I tell anyone else. I haven’t even told my brothers.”
“Oh.” My eyes filled with tears.
“Don’t cry,” he said, stopping and turning toward me in front of the gate to his backyard. “I can’t bear it if you cry.”
“Okay.”
I sucked the fear and hurt back inside, but doing so made my chest burn. There was no way I could contain the raging whirlwind of emotions within it.
“Whatever you feel like you have to do, I’ll support you.” I straightened my shoulders and looked him square in the eye. “I just wish you would have told me sooner what you were thinking.”
Storm placed his hands on my shoulders. “Nothing is going to happen right away. I just want you to be prepared.”
He opened the gate at the side of his house, propping it open with his body for me to step through. I entered the backyard, and the gate slammed behind him as he followed me. Side by side, we walked around the pool on the way to the outdoor shower. Resting our boards against the side of the garage, he flipped on the water. We didn’t talk, just exchanged weighted glances.
Did he feel as sad as I did? Like I had to savor each remaining moment together, knowing it might be our last?
“I’m scared,” I whispered after I showered, my wet hair dripping in my eyes like tears. “About you leaving.” It seemed like a dark cloud suddenly hung over us.
“Storm Peter Hardy!”
His father’s shout was a thunderclap that made both of us jump. With his black hair and sharply etched features, Graham Hardy looked nothing at all like Storm, who favored his mother.
My eyes wide, I watched Storm’s father step through the open sliding glass door from the house out into the backyard. His strides stiff, he marched around the pool deck straight toward us.
“What the hell is this?” he asked, waving a piece of paper