Keeping London (The Flawed Heart Series Book 2) (8 page)

“If you get bored of the beach, we can always head to the Beach Boardwalk,” Georgia suggests. “It’s like an old-fashioned amusement park. It’s fun.”

“That does sound fun,” I agree. “I definitely want to show Loïc what a real beach day is like. He likes to do all these exhausting activities when he takes me to the beach. Right, babe?” I playfully nudge Loïc in the side.

“To which activity are you referring? The boogie-boarding or the other activity we did in the water? Because, if I remember correctly, you didn’t complain about that.” He shoots me a wink.

I shake my head and laugh. “I was talking about the boogie boards, of course.”

“Well, that doesn’t really pertain here. You’re not going to want to get in the water anyway. It’s freezing this time of year,” Georgia informs us.

“There are a few surfers out in the water,” I mention, looking out to the water as one of them rides a wave to shore.

“Yeah, but they have serious wet suits on. Most people aren’t swimming in the water right now.”

“I don’t know. Lake Michigan is pretty damn cold early summer, and I manage,” Loïc offers.

“You go for it, babe,” I scoff. “I think I’ll hang on the beach.”

“If I go in, you’re going in with me.”

“Don’t you dare.” I scowl at him. “I hate being cold.”

“It’s an adventure,” he teases me.

“That’s right—one you can go on yourself.” I narrow my eyes toward him in warning.

Georgia lays down the beach blanket on the sand. “I agree with London on this one. It might be okay to walk along the beach and dip your toes, but I wouldn’t want to go in. No way.”

“All right. I’m going to run across the street to one of the stores. I’ll be back,” Loïc says to us.

“You go for it, babe. We’ll be here, relaxing and enjoying our beach day.” I smile lazily and lie back on the blanket.

“You two have great chemistry,” Georgia says to me after Loïc’s left.

“You think?”

“Yeah, totally. I can see why you’re so enamored with him.”

“I really love him, George. I feel in my heart that he’s the one, you know?”

“I see that, and you’re probably right. I can picture you marrying him.”

“I’m going to—someday. I just know it, but I’m in no rush. So, what’s up with this Ben guy?”

Georgia laughs beside me. “Oh, we’re just friends with benefits, nothing more.”

My sister and I chat and soak in the incredible California sun.

I’ve missed her. It’s hard being on the other side of the country from her, but I guess that’s what happens when people grow up. I’m so grateful I’ve had this long weekend with her, especially since she’s been able to meet and hang out with Loïc before he heads overseas.

All at once, I’m shrouded in shadow, and I open my eyes to find Loïc standing beside me with a gigantic grin and two large surfboards.

“Hell no,” I argue before he has a chance to say a word.

He tosses a wet suit onto my lap. “Suit up, baby.”

“Loïc,” I whine more than is probably acceptable for someone my age. But I don’t care. That water is cold, and the thought of going in it does not make me happy. “Are you serious?”

“Yep, we’re doing this. Come on, it will be fun.”

“Are you incapable of just relaxing?” I huff out.

“Babe, we can’t come to Cali and not take advantage of the waves.”

“Um, I beg to differ. Plus, I can’t surf.”

“I’ll teach you.”

“You can surf?” I tilt my head to the side.

“Of course.”

“Jeez, is there anything you can’t do?” I chuckle.

Loïc doesn’t answer, but seriously, the guy is like an outdoor-sports-enthusiast master. I stand reluctantly and grab the wet suit.

“Before you put that on, let’s practice on the beach.” Loïc starts to walk away.

I shoot my sister a save-me glare, to which she only laughs, and I hesitantly follow Loïc.

Loïc lays our boards flat on the sand. “Before we take it to the water, you need to practice getting up on your board. You can get the technique down perfectly on land so that it won’t be as difficult when you’re out in the water.”

“Okay.”

Loïc proceeds to show me the steps to getting up on the board, and I practice—a lot.

Standing on the board with my hands out to the sides, I pretend I’m on the water. “I totally got this!” I giggle, proud of myself.

“Let’s get our suits on, and we’ll go out,” he suggests.

“Great!”

Loïc’s love of surfing has officially rubbed off on me, like everything that he introduces me to does. I’m actually excited to get out there in the cold ocean and try to get up on an actual wave.

We suit up. Lying on our stomachs, we paddle out into the water. It’s a little chilly, but honestly, with the suit on, it’s not that bad. Once we’re out far enough, we paddle the boards around so that we’re facing the beach, and we wait for a wave. We’re not too far out from land. Loïc is starting me on little waves, which is definitely for the best.

“Paddle!” Loïc commands.

I listen as I swipe my arms through the water on the sides of my board.

“Up, London!” he yells.

I try to do exactly like I did on land.

The truth is, it is a hell of a lot harder to get up onto your board when you’re balancing on the water. I fall to the side, splashing into the ocean. Beneath the water, I swim upward until my head breaks the water’s surface, and I take a breath. Looking around, I see Loïc riding the wave toward the shore. Using more arms strength than I thought I had, I pull myself out of the water and onto the board. I wait while Loïc paddles back out toward me.

“I suck,” I say, defeated.

He laughs. “You don’t. Of course you weren’t going to get up on your first try. You’ll get there. Come on, let’s paddle back out and try it again.”

We repeat this process nine times, the outcome always the same as the first time. I’m exhausted. My entire body is screaming in pain as muscles I’ve never used weep for mercy. My arms shake from exertion, and my lungs burn. My cheeks are drenched with salt water—from the ocean or my own tears, I’m not sure. But I’m done. I’m definitely not a surfer.

I lay my head on my board, unable to pull my weak body atop it, and wait for Loïc to swim out to me.

“You okay?” he questions when he reaches me.

“I can’t do it again,” I whimper weakly.

“Baby, you can do it. I know you can.” Loïc’s voice is lined with amusement, but I’m too tired to care.

I’m sure I look like a sniffling wimp, and I’m cool with that as long as I can be finished with this surfing adventure.

“Can I go in?” I plead.

“Look at me, London.”

I lift my head from the board and stare into his beautiful blues. “You can do this. I know it. Let’s try it one more time, and promise me that you’ll give it everything you’ve got.”

“Okay.” I nod.

So, we repeat the process again, swimming out a little ways before turning our boards toward land.

Loïc tells me when to start paddling as the wave starts to build. Then, he yells, “Now!”

I grab ahold of the sides of the board and hoist my body up into a standing position. My feet land exactly where they should, and I stand with my arms out to my sides.

Oh my God, I’m doing it!

I manage to stay atop my board as the wave carries me toward shore. With my arms outstretched and the ocean breeze in my face, I feel like I’m flying. It’s the most incredible, freeing feeling in the world.

The board hits the beach, and I bend to remove the Velcro strap attached to my ankle.

I sprint toward Loïc and throw myself into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. “I did it! I did it! It was so amazing,” I screech as I cling to him.

His strong body shakes with laughter beneath mine, and he hugs me tight. “Awesome, right?”

“So awesome. I loved it.”

“I knew you would.”

We head back out into the water, and I’m able to ride two more waves in. Though I desperately want to, I can’t manage another. I’ve never been so sore in my entire life.

Once again, Loïc urged me to do something that I would never have done without him, and I ended up loving it. I thought my life was perfect before Loïc, but the longer I’m with him, the more I realize that it was lacking in so many ways. He brings a zest for life that I didn’t have on my own. He helps me push my limits, and because of that, I’m a better person, a more fulfilled one. I was cruising through life on autopilot, but with Loïc, I’m actually living it, and it’s awesome.

“Oh my God, you have to try that, George. It’s so fun,” I say as I fall on the blanket. “You can use my wet suit. Loïc will teach you.”

“I know. I love surfing,” she replies.

“I didn’t know you surfed.”

“Of course. I live in California, Londy,” she says by way of explanation. “I’m good though. We should pack up and go get something to eat before heading back. I don’t want you to be running late for your flight.”

“Stupid flight,” I grumble.

Loïc and I are taking the red-eye back to Michigan tonight. I wish we didn’t have to. It would be great to hide away from life in California with the ocean and warm sun. Back in Michigan, we’re going to be stepping off the plane into coldness—in more ways than one. Not only is the weather freezing, but the looming date of Loïc’s departure also gives me a chill. I can’t even think about it.

I just want to flee reality and get lost here in paradise, but unfortunately, that’s not an option.

Loïc

Age Fifteen

Amarillo, Texas

“Because of everything I’ve lost, I can’t lose Sarah, too.”

—Loïc Berkeley

I wake with a start. My back pushes into the gravel beneath it before I jolt up. I reach my arm out to the side, patting the spot beside me, and I immediately notice that Sarah isn’t there. Her comforting warmth is unmistakably missing.

Something’s wrong.

I’m surrounded by darkness, save for the tiny tease of light rising from the horizon in the distance, indicating dawn’s impending arrival. It’s early.

Sarah would never just leave me. She wouldn’t.

“Sarah! Sarah!” I call out.

A sad echo of my voice bounces back from the metal above me.

We’ve been staying under this overpass for about a week now. I found some temporary work in town that pays me cash to sort and load produce onto trucks. It’s long hours and tiring work, but I can’t turn down money. Plus, I’d rather be working than standing on a street corner, holding up a cardboard sign, begging for handouts, even though the latter scenario has been more familiar as of late. Not too many people are willing to hire a teenage boy with no identification and a less than desirable appearance. I’m hoping my current employer will keep me around long enough, so I can afford to get a few clean sets of clothes and some newer shoes for Sarah and me from the Salvation Army, and we could each use a haircut. I’m sure I could get more work if I looked better.

Sarah and I try to stay clean. Every day, we brush our teeth and wash up at gas station restrooms, and at least twice a week, we pay to take showers at truck stops.

Maybe she had to go to the bathroom?
I walk to the edge of the overpass. The loud traffic sounds overhead, and the metal shakes as large trucks zoom across.

“Sarah!” I call out.

Nothing.

I pace around, continuing to call her name. There’s no response.

Where could she be?

Sarah and I are very careful. We don’t split up often, and when we do, we make specific plans as to when and where we will meet up. It’s not like I can just call her. She’s never just left without telling me before.

A vague memory from when I was young surfaces. My dad and I were standing in front of an amusement park of some sort, and he was going over what I should do if I got separated from him. I remember him telling me to stay put, that if I stayed right where I was, then he could backtrack to all the places we’d been until he found me.

Stay put.

Should I just wait here and hope she returns?
This thought doesn’t sit well with me.
What if she’s hurt? In trouble? Lost?

I can’t imagine the latter. Sarah’s better with directions than I am. She’d be able to find her way back here.

Unless…

All the ways in which Sarah could need me enter my mind.
What if she was found? What if she’s been picked up by social services? What if she’s screaming for me to help her?

I have to find her. But where do I start?

With my arms raised to my head, my fingers grasp my hair, pulling.

Where do I look? Where do I look?
I think as I bend at the waist, the feeling of dread pulling me down.

Suddenly, I think about the corner where she panhandled a couple of times this week while I was working. I remember her telling me about a guy who works at the grocery store right there.

Pedro is his name.

Yes, Pedro, and he brought her a delicious deli sandwich from the store for lunch the past two days. She spoke about him like she had developed a friendship of sorts with him.

Maybe he’s seen her today? Or perhaps she mentioned something to him yesterday when she was there?