20. Jack

20

JACK

I wake with grit in my eyes, a stiff back, and a hard body beside me throwing off some serious heat. As my eyes adjust to the hazy glow of morning, everything that happened last night comes rushing back. The turtles, talking, soft lips against mine. Jesus fuck, that was the most sensual night of my life, and we didn’t even have sex. My heart feels achy at the idea that I shared parts of myself with Aaron that I haven’t with anyone in a long time. And he’ll be leaving town tomorrow morning.

I sit up gingerly, resisting the urge to wake him. I need to get some distance, clear my head. But it’s no use because he stirs beside me, his eyes blinking open.

“Hey.” His smile is dreamy, his gaze so filled with affection that I have to look away.

“Hey.” I stretch, then stand and head toward the coastline, trying to put space between us.

Suddenly, he’s there next to me, as if remembering too. “Are there any left?”

“Doubt it.” My toes meet the water just shy of some remnants of their dangerous journey in the foaming surf.

Aaron crouches to study the evidence. I hear a stifled gasp, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s as much of a softie as he claims I am, and it makes me want to pull him into my arms.

We inch down the shore without spotting any more debris.

Aaron breathes out in relief. “Feel like a walk?”

My head angles toward the towpath. “You mean…?”

“I mean on the beach. We’re already here, no one is around, and it’ll probably feel good.”

“Sure, why not?”

We’re alone for a short while, but as the sun rises across the horizon, more people show up to walk or swim.

“So you used to do this a lot?”

I’m momentarily startled, but then I remember that June mentioned my hiking habits to him when he first arrived. “Yeah…my mom and I had a thing about finding fully intact sand dollars. It started when I was a kid.”

He smiles. “That’s a nice memory. Have you ever been to Sand Dollar Beach?”

The memory hits me squarely in the chest. It’s a beach near Big Sur, and given the name, you’d think they’d have hundreds of them.

“Yep. But we came up empty that weekend.”

“Scandalous. They need to change the name,” he teases. “Do you still collect them?”

My gut churns. “I haven’t since…but I’m not sure why.”

“Too painful?” he asks hesitantly.

“Yeah, maybe. Probably why I stopped coming to the beach as well.”

“Do you want…?” He motions behind us. “We can head back. I’m sorry if?—”

“No, it feels good. Glad you suggested it.”

When we reach a bend, we decide to turn around and head back to our stuff.

Just as our blankets come into view, Aaron stops suddenly, studying something in the sand. “Look at this one.” He squats to pick up a perfectly round, unbroken sand dollar, save for a wonky edge. They’re so delicate it’s hard to find any that haven’t been damaged by the tide or wind. “Do you want it?” he offers.

“You keep it,” I reply, feeling strangely emotional.

“I’ll keep it for you,” he says, closing his fist. “To remind me of Aqua Vista.”

I’m speechless, my chest so tender I reach up to soothe it, when a familiar voice cracks through the peacefulness of the morning. “Uncle Jack, is that you?”

I turn to see Cain heading toward us with his surfboard.

He looks between us, then down at the blankets. “What’s up?”

“We watched the turtles hatch,” I reply, as matter-of-factly as I can muster. As if it’s no big thing that we spent all night on the beach. And for someone like Cain, with his surfer-dude, laid-back attitude, it’s not.

“Then we fell asleep,” Aaron adds awkwardly, and I try not to meet his eye.

Cain smirks. “Totally rad. Well, I showed up early to get a head start on the others. See you around.”

We watch him as we gather our belongings, how at ease he is on his board, riding the waves. Like it’s where he belongs. Always been that way.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I say as Aaron seems to marvel at Cain. “I used to be young and carefree once too.” Though nothing like Cain. In fact, I only did it for fun, whereas he takes competition very seriously.

“Proof or it didn’t happen.”

I chuckle. “Thank God there were no smartphones or social media back then.”

Soon, real life intrudes, and we’re heading back up the towpath.

The car is silent as we pull into my driveway as if we’re both soaking in the bitter reality of what is most likely our last time together, especially with his friend in town.

Aaron’s hand reaches for the door handle. “Better head back to the hotel before Rocco wakes up.”

“Yep, I gotta get to the station and then to help Johnny set up for his annual rib fest.” I take a cue from Cain on the beach as I plaster on a tight smile. “So I guess I’ll see you around.”

He nods but doesn’t meet my eye. “We might grab a bite at Johnny’s later. But if not, is it all right if I stop on my way out to say goodbye?”

My heart rises to my throat. “I don’t like goodbyes.”

“Makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Yeah, it does.” Aaron’s eyes are shiny when they focus on me. “So then I won’t say goodbye. You agreed to keep in touch, which means we’re friends.”

For the first time, my stomach settles into something resembling peace or maybe conciliation. It’s better than nothing. “Suppose it does.”

He pushes open the door and steps out. “See you around.”