Page 43 of Chasing Riddick

T he waves were the biggest they’d ever been, and as usual, my emotional response to the terrifying walls of water was excitement, not fear .

My board was freshly waxed, thanks to Riddick, so I hit my first twenty-foot wave with sticky feet and perfect form.

It would have been the best day of my life if Riddick had been there to see me do it.

Instead, I was with Jet.

Surfing with Jet was much different than surfing with Riddick.

Riddick was a drill sergeant. He never smiled and he was constantly scanning the beach for threats.

When Riddick trained me, he was always barking orders, frantically reminding me to pay attention, and constantly trying to instill the fear of fucking God into me each time a new wave came in.

Jet was easier. We were similar in temperaments, and he was always smiling.

Sure, Jet offered me instruction, but he usually let me do my own thing first, then gave me constructive criticism in areas he thought I could improve.

He treated the water with a healthy dose of respect, but he didn’t seem to be tense and terrified I might die the entire time like Riddick was.

I wasn’t sure if that was because he hadn’t suffered the same trauma Riddick had or simply because he didn’t care about me as much as Riddick did… which was a sobering thought.

Because I didn’t have Riddick there looking out for me, I found that I instinctively took my own safety more seriously.

For some reason, I didn’t feel quite as safe with Jet.

Not because he was doing anything wrong but because he just wasn’t as hyper-aware of me as Riddick always was.

I hadn’t truly understood just how much Riddick was always looking out for me until he was gone.

Feeling off-kilter without him, I found myself actively trying to remember to always scan the horizon, to make sure I was avoiding traps that might drag me out into the death zone and making a conscious effort to strategically plan my path through the pipe so that in the case of an unexpected break, I wouldn’t plummet twenty feet.

By the time the day was over, Jet was shaking his head in disbelief, beaming at me.

“You’re pretty amazing, surf star,” he praised me as we paddled back to shore.

I grinned at him, though it felt strained.

Surfing without Riddick had been unexpectedly stressful. I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on him watching my back. I was missing him even more than I had been that morning.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” I replied as we scooped up our boards and headed back toward the natural stone steps that led up the cliff.

“What are you doing for the rest of the afternoon?” he asked, and I had the feeling that he was asking me to hang out.

Riddick’s demand that I be home for dinner was ringing in my head, but I was also pissed enough at him that I didn’t want to just blindly obey him as if nothing had changed between us.

“Uh, I don’t really have plans,” I lied, and Jet beamed at me.

“Cool. I was gonna swing by Jake’s grave quickly since it’s right around here; then you wanna watch a movie or something?”

“Riddick’s grave is close by?” I asked, shocked, and Jet nodded.

“Yeah, we buried him on the property. We figured he would want to be close to home.”

Suddenly, I needed to see Riddick’s final resting place more than I’d needed anything in my life.

“Can I come with you? To his grave, I mean.”

Jet gave one of those soft, gentle looks he sometimes got when he was talking about Riddick, and my stomach warmed.

“I would like that, surf star.” He smiled, jerking his head in the opposite direction of the steps.

“Let’s go see the legend himself.”

Riddick’s grave was a simple, old-school tombstone set in a shady corner of the brush. The stone read:

Jake ‘Riddick’ Whittling.

Friend. Lover. Leviathan tamer.

1986-2024

I frowned, glancing at Jet.

“Lover?”

Jet pursed his lips and nodded. “I told you, we used to be close.”

A strange feeling twisted in my gut at this new piece of information.

Had Riddick been so worried about us hooking up because he was jealous of me? Or because he was jealous of Jet?

I chewed on my lip, and Jet misread my expression entirely. I jumped as he reached out with his pinky finger, gently curling it around mine .

“And like I said… you remind me of him. A lot.”

Heat flushed my cheeks, and I felt my eyes widen.

Okay, that was DEFINITELY a flirt…

Maybe Riddick wasn’t being so ridiculous after all.

I cleared my throat and tugged my pinky away, stepping back.

“Jet… I…uhm…” My face was so hot it was embarrassing.

Understanding flooded his expression, and he held up his hands playfully as if showing me he was unarmed.

“Oh, shit… did I totally misread that? I’m usually pretty on point with the gaydar. If you’re not into dudes, my bad.”

“What? No, it’s not that… I’ve been known to dabble.” I chuckled, awkwardly rubbing the back of my neck.

Jet frowned and cocked his head to the side. “You seeing someone then?”

“Uhm… It’s… complicated,” I muttered, and he watched me carefully, his kind brown eyes searching my face.

“I see…” he said softly. He stepped in closer to me, and I swallowed thickly. His warm, spicy scent filled the space between us, and he curled a finger under my chin, gently tilting my head back. “Well, if someone has you , and they’re making it complicated, then they’re probably a dumbass.”

A surprised laugh puffed out of me, and I didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to my mouth, that easy, half-cocked grin tilting on his lips.

I stepped away again.

“He can definitely be a dumbass,” I mumbled, and Jet let me go, dropping his hand back to his side.

“I have no doubt,” he murmured.

We stood there in strangely comfortable silence for a beat before he shrugged, adjusting his shortboard under his arm.

“Maybe we can take a rain check on that movie, then.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” I said, digging my toe into the pebbly ground.

“If you ever change your mind and you feel like… watching a movie, let me know.” He smirked, and I glanced at him, unable to stop myself from smiling.

“Sure… But I probably won’t. Change my mind, I mean…”

He clapped a hand on my shoulder and nodded.

“No worries. Still up for shredding again tomorrow?”

My grin widened, and warmth curled in my gut. Jet was a pretty dope dude. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

He winked at me and nodded.

“Later, surf star,” he said, throwing the ‘hang loose’ hand signal over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving me standing at the grave of the dead man I’d turned him down for.