Page 32 of Seashells and Other Souvenirs

I linger on the beach a few minutes more, savoring the quiet of the early morning and the open space I have all to myself except for the two figures surfing in the distance.

It didn’t occur to me until just now that one of them may be Tyler, though it seems crazy early for him to be giving a lesson.

I search the shore above the surfers’ positions, hoping that Jude may be out taking pictures or helping in some other way today. But the sand is empty.

The breeze is perfect, and the only sounds are those of the waves and a few seagulls. It’s like a poem that’s written itself. I wish I had my notebook. I’m glad I don’t.

I watch the surfers emerge from the ocean and drop their boards side by side. One of them waves; it is Ty. The other starts walking toward me, and my heart rate picks up when it registers that I know him too.

He has a towel slung around his shoulders and a dry shirt in his hand; and why have I never noticed before how incredibly attractive he is?

He stops a few feet away. “You’re up early.”

“I thought you didn’t surf.”

He scrubs the towel over his wet hair. “I said I don’t surf well . Doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy falling off my board while Tyler catches some good waves before his first students show up.”

“Looked like you were doing okay to me.”

His eyes light up. “You were watching?”

“I didn’t know it was you.”

He removes his glasses, cleans them with the corner of his towel, and slides them back in place. “Come here often to check out strangers on surfboards then?”

“I came to see the sunrise.”

“Yeah?” He pulls the towel from his neck and drapes it over one of my shoulders, then tugs the shirt over his head. I look away.

“Last night, I realized that in all our years coming here and all my time here this summer, I’d never watched the sun rise over the ocean. That felt wrong.”

“And?” he asks as he takes the towel back, moving closer and making my pulse quicken again. “What’s the verdict?”

“It was amazing.”

He smiles. “I could have told you that.”

“But you didn’t.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and fidget with the charm at my throat.

“Some people need things spelled out for them. Otherwise, it could take entirely too much time for them to realize the goodness that’s been right there waiting for them if only they’d woken up and really seen it.

” I scrutinize his face as he absorbs what I’ve just said.

“Anyway, I’m going to head back for breakfast.” I spin on my heel and start walking, still in too much shock to process my own candid words.

I’m halfway up the stairs before he calls my name. When I turn around, he’s almost caught up. “Do you—?” He pauses, more breathless than he should be after such a short jog. “Can I buy you a cup of coffee?”

“It’s breezy this morning.” He sets his coffee cup on top of his napkin on the shop’s patio table as the wind threatens to blow it away. “Are you cold?”

“I’m fine.” I wrap my fingers around the warm mug in my own hands. “You’re the one wearing a wet bathing suit.”

“I’m good. But I should have run by the house to change; then we could’ve sat inside at least. Sorry.”

He’s nervous.

I am too, but my desire to put him at ease outweighs my own self-consciousness. “I don’t mind. It just reminds me of the night I beat you at Putt-Putt.”

He clears his throat. “You didn’t beat me; I forfeited. There’s a difference.” A thrill of satisfaction runs through me at the tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth. And the fact that I knew how to draw it out.

“How’s vacation been?” he asks, then grimaces. “Sorry about last night with the card game and the soccer thing. I wasn’t thinking. Hopefully I didn’t make things weird with your cousins.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him. “They know about us now.”

He hitches an eyebrow. “Us?”

“About me staying at your house, I mean.” My face burns, and I try to coach my brain to chill out, act normal. This is Jude, after all.

But once a wave starts to crash, there’s no stopping it. At this point, I’m hopeless and I know it. This is Jude , after all.

He gestures to the pastry on the plate between us. “Are you hungry?”

I’m about to answer when his comment from a few days ago hits me. I gasp. “You quit your job! Does that mean the city offered you the position?”

“I was wondering how long it would take you to bring that up. I half expected you to text me later that night.”

“I wanted to,” I admit, though I don’t tell him how many times I actually pulled out my phone and talked myself down.

“I wish you had. I’ve wanted to text you so many times, but I didn’t want to interrupt your family time.”

I pick a piece of pastry from the plate. “Well, you have your sister and nephew there now. I didn’t want to bother you either.”

He breaks off a bite for himself. “I always want you to bother me, Alex. You’re my favorite person to be bothered by.”

I smile. “So? The job.”

“The job,” he repeats. “I haven’t heard anything from the city yet; they said it could take a week or two to make their final decision. I put in my notice at the show a few days before you left; I sort of had a moment of clarity that night we built the fort.”

“History is replete with epiphanies in blanket forts.”

He smirks at my joke, and I pop another bite of pastry into my mouth before pushing the plate toward him. “Sorry, I’m listening.”

He ignores the food and straightens his glasses.

“Well, I guess it mostly had to do with the reason I took that job in the first place, the reason I’ve been working such insane hours at multiple jobs.

” He sighs and squints at me. “How deep of a conversation are you prepared for this early in the day?”

I set my coffee down, noting it’s the exact shade of his eyes right now. “Whatever you want to share with me, Jude, I’ll hold it carefully.” He nods once, as if our hearts are shaking on a deal.

“A couple years ago, like I told you before, I was in a really bad place. There were days I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through. There were days—” He swallows and stares down at his cup. “There were days I wasn’t sure I wanted to make it through.”

I reach my hand across the table, and he takes it, squeezing it once before continuing.

“Mrs. Becky finally got worried enough that she ignored all my excuses and made me an appointment to get some help. I remember feeling so embarrassed walking in that first day. But a few weeks later, I didn’t know why I hadn’t gone sooner.

” His shoulders relax like he’s relieved to have set this information in front of me, like it’s been heavy to carry alone for so long.

“Anyway,” he goes on, “the next years were a lot of hard work and just showing up and making changes to make sure I was taking care of my own health the way I would for anyone else I cared about. Two things my counselor recommended were to always have something to look forward to and to surround myself with other people as often as I could. When I was alone, I’d get in my own head and fixate on all the worst things from my childhood, all the reasons I thought they were my fault.

Staying busy with work gave me somewhere to be other than an empty house.

And people to hang out with besides just Ty’s family.

Plus, what’s more fun than getting paid to pretend to be a pirate?

” He winks at me, and I tighten my grip on his hand.

“Eventually, I got to the point where I could talk some of my deepest stuff out and work through it in a healthy way. I learned how to filter out what’s true and to ask for help when I need it.

I got more comfortable with being alone, not so scared to sit with my thoughts.

This past year, I’ve been in a better place than ever.

And then you showed up on my porch.” He runs his thumb along my knuckles.

“And suddenly, I wasn’t only okay with being at home more; I wanted to be there.

The idea of you coming back from your vacation and wasting any of the few days I had left with you doing anything but spending as much time with you as you’d let me was absurd.

Especially when I could get another part-time job like this in a heartbeat.

I want the job with the city; I really, really want it.

” His voice breaks. “But more than that, I want a life outside of work. I want to be able to take my nephew to the beach and spend time rebuilding my relationship with my sister. I want—” He lets go of my hand and straightens up.

“I want to ask you something, but I need you to be completely honest with me.” I nod.

“Really, Alex. The last thing I want is for you to feel sorry for me or like you have to say or do something to make me feel better after I’ve told you all this; that’s not your job. We’re best friends, right?”

“We are.”

“So one hundred percent honesty, okay?”

“Okay,” I promise.

He’s nervous again, and I wonder what’s coming. “Remember our conversation about being willing to take risks when something is important to you? My last two shifts are next Wednesday night. On Thursday, I’d like to take you out somewhere. On a date. Would that be okay?”

This may be the easiest question I’ve ever been asked. I recapture his hand. “I’d love to go on a date with you, Jude.”

“Really?” he breathes.

“I just have a couple questions.”

His smile slips just a little. “Okay.”

“Will the restaurant make you give the pirate earring back?”

He scowls at me, but it loses its effect with the laugh he can’t hold in. “You are ridiculous.”

“Have you . . . have you told Norah yet?”

He rolls his eyes.

“Are you regretting asking me on a date now?” I tease.

The look he sends across the table chases any further silliness from my mind, and something flutters behind my ribs. “Not even a little bit.”