Coast (Kick Push Book 2) (The Road 3) (22 page)

“I’m happy.”

“For the first time in a long time, I’m happy. Not as happy as I would be if I got to see you more often. But not as miserable as I would be if you gave up skating to be with me.”

He smiles at that, his hand cupping my neck while his thumb gently strokes my throat.

“So if one night with you is all I get, I’ll take it and carry it with me. And I’ll cherish it all the days we’re apart.”

—Joshua—

I wake up
the next morning and without opening my eyes, without feeling for her next to me, I know she’s gone. I know because she’s taken half my heart with her. It’s the same way I felt when I woke up the last time we did this. The last time we said goodbye without saying the actual words. The difference this time is that it doesn’t hurt. Because when I reach under my mattress for the worn envelope, the edges frayed, the content evidence of everything we are—hope overpowers the ache, overpowers the longing. And even though she’s gone physically, she’s not gone forever. And the fleeting words I spoke the last time she did this still hold the truth.
She’ll always belong to me
.

I pull out the envelope and flip it between my fingers, over and over, the weight of its content shifting like the weight of my heart between moments of Becca. My breath falters as I empty it, photographs spilling onto my chest. I pick up one, an image forever burned in my mind, and I scan over it, looking for a new meaning. I do this with all of them, one after another. Pictures of the wallpaper in her old room, a shovel in the dirt, dying flowers, Tommy’s sandpit, porch steps, fried pickles, and birthday cakes. There are dozens of Tommy, of Tommy and her, Tommy and me, and a single one of all three of us. I stare at that one the longest. I always do. And I wait for my heart to slow, for the reminder to hit me… that I lost her once, but I won’t lose her again. That I loved her once, but I’ll make her love me twice. And when I build the courage, those thoughts infiltrating my entire existence, I pick up the letter, her handwriting scrawled in bright red ink:

“If you want to learn what someone fears losing, watch what they photograph.”

- Unknown.

—Becca—

“I
spent my
childhood Christmases staring out of my living room window watching kids playing with their new presents out in the street, all while dodging insults from my mother. Occasionally, I’d dodge the empty bottles she’d down during those insults.

“I’d see the smiles on parents’ faces as they held each other, their children’s laughter bringing them more joy in that one day than I’d ever seen with my mother. It’s not to say she wasn’t a happy person. She was. Or, at least, that’s how I saw her. She’d laugh when she was drinking, smile when she had her boyfriends over. But it seemed her ultimate happiness came from my misery. Even when she took her own life and attempted to take mine with it, she was laughing. It was sinister, but it was there. There was never any real joy, though. There was never a moment where I caught her looking at me the way those parents had—with love and adoration.

“I’d spent almost eighteen years of my life without ever really knowing what that look felt like. I lived in silence, blinded by darkness, and even though I’d been with guys before, physically, they never looked at me the way I’d hoped. The way I longed for.

“And then I met Josh—who looked at his son the way those parents on the streets had. I wanted so badly to be that kid that I found myself envious of a three-year-old. But I had no reason to be, because in time, I’d know exactly what it felt like to be the object of someone’s affection. To be loved. To be adored. To be the reason for someone’s joy.

“We loved in ways that can’t be explained, hurt in ways that can’t be justified. We felt every possible emotion under the sun. Literally. I’ll never be able to feel the sun on my skin, never be able to hear the sounds of spinning wheels against concrete, never feel the safety of someone else’s touch—and not think of Josh Warden.

“My mother didn’t give me a lot. In fact, she did everything possible to deny me the basics of life. I never knew what I was missing. Not until she took my ability to speak. It wasn’t until I felt Josh’s love that I realized that even though I couldn’t speak, it didn’t mean I didn’t have a voice.”

Joey stares at me, his eyes wide in disbelief beneath his Santa hat.

I’d told Josh that I’d wanted to tell Joey about him, I just didn’t have the words. But last night, as I was preparing my equipment for the family photos today, it all came to me. I wrote it down in my journal, and Cordy just repeated it word for word.

“I’m sorry about your mom, Becca,” Joey says.

I smile, because even though I appreciate his words, I can see him trying to push down what he really wants to say.

“But holy shit! You and J-Ward!?”
And there it is
. “I don’t believe you. No fucking way!”

I roll my eyes and type, “
You don’t think your worshipped god would be into a girl like me?
”

He laughs as he picks up yet another plate donated by the fine families of Say Something. Every house we’ve stopped at for the morning appointments gave us a plate of leftover breakfast. Now we’re sitting in a practically deserted park, me with my gear and him dressed as Santa, taking advantage of their generosity.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he says, chewing on a strip of bacon. “It’s just… I mean… it’s J-Ward! The guy’s, like, the king of kings in the skate world. At least to me, and you—you’ve sat there and listened to me talk about him and this entire time you knew him? That’s fucking gnarly, dude. But I kind of still don’t believe you.”

I hold the phone between us and send a text to Josh.

Becca:
Hey.

His reply is instant.

Josh:
Hey! I was just thinking about you. Merry Christmas! How are the family photos going?

I show Joey the response, but he shakes his head, his shaggy surfer blond hair falling over his eyes. “I’m suspect. That could be anyone. It could be your dad and you’ve just put him in your phone as Josh. Is this a prank? It’s a pretty shady one if it is.”

I roll my eyes.

He mocks it.

Becca:
It’s going well. I’m in a park with Joey taking a little break. I told him about you.

Josh:
About me? Or us?

I hold the phone right in front of Joey’s nose, my eyes wide in question. “See?” I mouth.

He scoffs. “That’s nothing.”

Sighing, I type:

Becca:
Us.

Josh:
Huh. So you finally found the words?

Becca:
They’re as close to worthy as I can get.

Josh:
Can I see them?

Becca:
One day. Maybe.

Josh:
I’ll take it. So… this Joey guy? Do I need to be worried?

Becca:
lol. He’s harmless. Trust. Besides, he has more of a boner for you than he does for me.

“Don’t tell him that!” Joey yells.

Becca:
He doesn’t believe me anyway.

Josh sends through a picture of him, his goofy grin from ear to ear. He’s sitting at Grams’s kitchen table, probably having lunch with her. I show Joey the image, but he just shakes his head. “That could be taken from any online image search.”

Becca:
He’s still suspect.

Josh:
Give the kid your phone.

I hand it to Joey, who’s practically bouncing with anticipation. A second later, the phone vibrates in his hand, alerting him to a video call. He hits answer, and swear, he actually squeals like a girl when Josh’s face lights up the screen. “Dude!”

Josh smiles. “Yo. What’s up?”

“Shut the fuck up right now. No way!”

Josh laughs as he walks outside, closing Grams’s door behind him. “It’s Joey, right?”

“Y-yeah, man. Holy shit!”

“Nice Santa costume.”

Joey rips off the Santa hat and fake beard from around his neck. “Fuck!”

With a chuckle, Josh says, “It’s all good, man. It’s a cool thing you guys are doing.” He walks across the driveway toward the garage and a moment later, I hear the door lift. “What size do you ride?”

“Um. A 7.75.”

“Dude, I got plenty of those,” Josh says, flipping the camera so it’s pointing away from him. The screen fills with a bunch of different style boards. “Take your pick.”

If possible, Joey’s eyes fall out of his head. “Dude!”

“I have the new J-Ward signature one. You want that?” Josh asks.

“The one that hasn’t been released yet?!” Joey yells.

I wish I could speak so I could get in his face and say,
“I told you so!”
But I can’t, so instead I just watch and listen to Josh acting in a way I’ve never seen before. The old Josh would’ve shied away from the attention like he did the first time he took me to the skate park. This Josh… I don’t even know this one. But I think I
want
to. And that has to mean something.

Josh records himself signing the board. “I’ll send it to Becs. You should have it soon. I gotta jet, though. Becca’s grams is waiting on me.” He waves, a cheesy smile on his face. Then he hangs up, leaving Joey with his mouth open and me with a cocky grin.

“Holy shit, Becca! I just… Josh fucking Warden.”

Before I get a chance to respond, I get another text.

Josh:
I’ll be in Oregon during your spring break. I’m going to buy you a plane ticket. I’ll e-mail you the details.

Josh:
In other words, I miss you and I really want to see you, Becs.

Josh:
If you can make it, I’ll be the happiest man on earth. If you can’t, I’ll cry myself to sleep.

Josh:
No pressure, though.

—Joshua—

“T
wenty-one,” Ry says,
settling next to me on the plane to Dallas.

“What’s twenty-one?”

“That’s the number of days it takes to create a habit.”

I shake my head and eye him sideways. Ry’s the newest member of the team, plucked by Chris from a skate park somewhere in Cali. He’s only eighteen and had never left the state until Chris knocked on his door, wooed his mother, and he’s been with us ever since. That was three months ago. Now, he’s attached himself to me, calling me his big bro. Not that I mind. He’s more on my level than the other two guys. Maybe because he’s young and new and the fame and rewards of the skate world haven’t ruined him yet.

We spend most nights on the road skating in random places, while the others hit up bars and hit on girls.

“What habit?” I ask.

He points to the phone in my hand opened up to a picture of Becca pouting. She’d sent it to me New Year’s Eve with the text, “I miss you.” I hadn’t known what to make of it, or why she’d sent it, but I didn’t care. I missed her, too, and I wished she was with me, or I with her, it didn’t matter, and I told her that. We spent way too long, stayed up way too late, texting back and forth with promises to keep in touch. It was the only promise we made. Nothing about who we were to each other, or what we’d be the next time we were together. She’s in my life and obviously thinking about me, and for the past two months that’s been enough.

Ry says, pulling me from my thoughts, “If you don’t talk to her or look at her for twenty-one days, she should be out of your system.”

“Who says I want her out of my system?” I ask incredulously.

“Your face.” He laughs once. “Who is she, anyway?”

“Becca!” Reece shouts, taking a seat opposite us. “One day, young Ry, you’ll know all about Becca.”

“She your girl?” Ry asks.

Reece answers before I can. “She’ll always be his girl. Even if she has no idea she is.”

*     *     *

Becca:
How’s Dallas?

Josh:
Not as good as Oregon will be. You’re still coming right?

The minutes feel like hours while I wait for her response.

Becca:
I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I’m going to try my hardest to make it, but there’s so much going on at the moment, I don’t know if I can get away.

Josh:
But it’s spring break!

Becca:
I know, but I have this huge paper due right after and all the volunteers at Say Something leave for break but the kids don’t so…

Josh:
Crushing my heart, Becs. But I understand.

I don’t. Not really. I
should
, but I don’t.

Becca:
Are you mad?

Josh:
No.

Becca:
You’re mad.

Josh:
I’m not mad.

I’m a little mad.