13. Poppy Wells

13

Poppy Wells

T he sound of children screaming and giggling startled me from my thoughts. When I swirled around, I saw at least ten of them charging down the sand towards me, wetsuits on and boards in hand. Panic arose in my chest but soon faded as I realized they were only little. It was a reflex .

Dragging myself out of the water, the blue rash guards with the surf school logos on them came into my view.

“Poppy!” One of the kids yelled out to me. She looked around eight, maybe? That would be my guess, anyway. She looked vaguely familiar, same ocean blue eyes, brown hair that tumbled past her shoulders and a face structure the same as… Lia .

“Little Davis?” I asked as she came running towards me and threw her arms around my legs. I returned her hug, rubbing her back gently as I fell to my knees, so I was on her level. For some reason, I didn’t feel nervous. Maybe that was because she was eight…but whatever. I’d officially talked to someone knew.

Beat that anxiety, little fucker .

Her tiny brows crossed as her lips pulled into a frown. “I have a name, you know. People never remember it. And I hate being called Lia’s sister.”

Her quick remark made me smile. “Hey, little Davis is a great nickname,” I praised, partly because I had no idea what her name was and felt so fucking guilty to ask her for it after she just said that. “I think it makes you sound super cool.”

“You think so?” Her lips tugged up almost immediately into a smile, though her words tumbled out hesitantly.

I nodded. “Sure do. Is your sister here with you?”

Her smile immediately left at the mention of Lia and it hurt my heart to see that small frown return. I barely knew her but she’d given me less hatred and glares in the last two minutes than residents of this town had given me in an entire lifetime, so that made her officially number one in my Christmas card list. Not that I did cards anyway. We didn’t have the money to spend on them, and I never had many friends anyway so it didn’t feel like I was missing anything.

“No, she’s grounded. In the dark.”

“What do you mean by in the dark?” I questioned carefully.

The girl shrugged like it was a usual sentence for her.

“You can’t see her or he’ll get mad. He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way. I know that. Lia told me what to do and what not to. I’m his good girl, that’s what he tells me. He doesn’t tell that to her though. He calls her names. Bad names. She tells me not to worry about it. That it’s just him being sad. I don’t believe her though. Not really. Do you believe her, Poppy?”

I couldn’t breathe. What the fuck should I do?

What she said made no sense but I guessed not all kids did.

Hell , sometimes adults didn’t even make sense.

You can’t see her or he’ll get mad.

He doesn’t like it when things don’t go his way.

Who was this he? Was Lia in danger?

I should talk to her…but that meant getting her address from Jasper and I had no intention of seeing him.

Ever again .

Unless I absolutely had to and there was no possible way out of it.

And even then, I could guarantee I wouldn’t enjoy a single second of it.

But I guess I could put aside my grudge for this though, right ?

My dad…he never abused me, not really.

At least, that was what I spent years trying to convince myself.

He hit my mom more than he hit me. But he always apologized afterwards. He was there on the beach when I surfed, never missing a heat. Ever . He had always been there for me, so the little comments and digs at my skills and body…I just brushed them off because I thought that was just how he was.

That he was just like that.

I guess that was why it fucking hurt when he left without a word.

I was forgotten, replaceable .

Now I made sure no one could ever get close enough to me to leave me again.

That way, I couldn’t be hurt again in the same way he hurt me when he left.

“I believe her,” I rasped, forcing a smile. I didn’t want to worry her about any of it, especially if it meant that I was wrong. Maybe I’d misheard her. I probably did—there were loads of kids here and they weren’t exactly talking quietly.

“Are you taking the surf class?” I asked.

She nodded. “Yup,” she replied, popping the P .

“How about you get everyone lined up and check they all have sunblock on whilst I go and see where your teacher is? Sound like a plan, little Davis?”

“Yes!” She beamed at me before taking off in the sand, running over to where the other kids were standing.

My chest felt heavy and restricted with every step I took towards the surf school. I couldn’t get what she’d said out of my head, even if I had imagined it in the first place. I was sure it was nothing but somewhere, deep down in my gut, was a feeling that told me it was real. And I had no idea what to do with that.

With every step towards the school, my chest tightened. My fingers grazed over the wooden door, the red paint peeling away at the corners. I scrunched and flexed my fingers as my hand hovered over the door.

Fuck it.

I knocked.