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“Don’t look for a wave that’s too big,” Hayden added.

“Put your arms out for extra balance.”

“Don’t stand up too straight at the start.”

“If you have to, just kneel up.”

“Or surf in on your belly until you get a feel for it.”

“You can do this.”

She ignored our advice, her entire focus trained on the waves.

“Babe…” I said as she paddled past the whitewash and out into the bigger waves. “Jamie!”

“Don’t.” Hayden reached over and slapped me on the chest, stopping me from going after her.

“Those are real waves,” I snapped. “She could get hurt.”

“Some would argue dating three brothers is equally as risky, but Jamie manages it just fine. Anyway, look.”

When my head whipped around, I saw it. Surfing was more of an art than a sport, less constructed of angles and velocity and more something you did by feel. She sensed it right now. The crest of the wave and when to pop up, where the board needed to sit and how she’d need to balance upon it. My girl, she was surfing. She was fucking surfing on a reasonable sized wave and it was just then that she realised it.

Her eyes going wide, the breeze lifting the wet strands of her hair, then the look of pure delight, I’d remember the way she looked that day until I lay on my deathbed. I let out a big whoop of excitement, Hayden doing the same and even Brock, the sand hating grump, came running down the dunes to witness it. She rode that wave down to the shallows, then flopped down into the water, the sounds of her laughter drowning out the hush of the sea. Hayden and I rushed over, sweeping in to collect her up in our arms, Brock splashing forward to join us.

“You did it!” Hayden threw her up in the air, making her squeal. “You did it!”

“Of course she did.” I grinned then and when she returned to Hayden’s arms, she smiled right back. “There’s nothing my girl can’t do.”

“Including do burnouts at the Summernats in the HQ?” she asked Brock slyly.

The Summernats were one of the biggest car meets in Australia, with people converging from all over the country to show off their hot cars and this year we were all going. Brock’s jaw muscle flexed in response to that idea.

“Hey, it’s usually blokes who do the driving and girls that get their tits out, right?” I said. “I could rip my shirt off, give the crowd something to cheer for.”

“Or want to pour bleach into their eyeballs,” Brock replied. Jamie hung on his every word, but I wasn’t sure why. There was only one answer for our girl. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Was I peeved that she was more excited about burning rubber than surfing? Nope. I’d eye the pretty cars, but I couldn’t tell a HQ from an LMNOP. “Yes!” she threw her arms up and then ran around on the sand, doing a victory lap while we focussed very hard on the fit of her bikini.

“Blokes are gonna try and get her to flash her tits for them,” Hayden growled. “You know that right?”

“Over my dead body.” Brock and I looked at each other and snorted because we’d said that at the exact same time. We rarely had moments where we were of the same mind, but it was happening right now.

“We keep an eye on her the entire time, punch the shit out of any fucker who tries to mess with her,” Brock continued.

“So same old, same old.”

When I grinned, they did too, right before we ambled closer.

“Ready to tear up the road to Canberra?” I asked her.

“I was born ready,” she said, grabbing her surfboard and rushing towards the car.