I love Renn’s friends. Growing up, they used to tail Pippa and me pathetically, vying for crumbs of our attention. We were older, wiser, and we did not smell like goats and socks. Which, naturally, gave us the shine of rock stars.
“I’m sure Ever could use a little time to relax,” Dad says sternly. “Not that there is anything wrong with your pot-smoking, wave-catching, job-avoiding friends.”
Actually, hearing him list all the reasons why Renn is friends with screwups reminds me of how much I used to enjoy hanging out with them. Renn’s crew are the least judgmental people I’ve ever met. They’d probably be chill if I decided to perform a satanic ceremony midsurf. And, yes, there is a chance I will burst out crying spontaneously—I’ve been doing that a lot lately—but I don’t think it would freak them out. Besides, I could use the opportunity to stretch my limbs. See if I really am bad at surfing after years of not doing it.
“I’ll go surfing.” I surprise both Renn and myself by saying this.
Renn hides his smile with a can of soda he pops open. “Damn, Dad. Nice work.”
“Can I borrow one of your surfboards?” I ask.
“No need. I kept your old one in pristine condition.” Renn winks.
My heart races in my chest. “You did?”
He nods. “That’s what good siblings do. Of course, you wouldn’t know anything about that.”
“This is going to work out perfectly. While you are out, I can move some of my things back here,” Donna says. “Your dad and I can grill a few things for dinner. How does that sound?”
It sounds perfect.
No, not perfect, I remind myself. Perfect doesn’t exist.
It sounds just right.
We go to Ocean Beach, Renn’s favorite spot. The waves can get up to fifteen feet high in the winter, and the winds are moody. It’s not SoCal flawless. The water moving in and out from under the Golden Gate Bridge shifts the sandbars, and sometimes it’s foggy as shit. But Renn says that there is something boring and obvious about surfing the perfect Malibu waves, and I tend to agree.
Renn drives his red Wrangler, both of our surfboards secured on the roof rack. The windows are rolled down. His red-blond curls dance across his forehead. The brine and salt and the mouthwatering scents of morning pastries anchor me back to our childhood. I think about Joe. What’s he doing right now? Who is he with? Sometimes I’m tempted to text him. But then I remember how much I’ve hurt him and think better of it.
“Are you seeing anyone right now?” I ask Renn. It is high time I take interest in my baby brother’s love life. Especially since he is not a baby anymore. Last time we spoke on the phone, he was in bed with someone who sounded way older.
“I’m seeing lots of people,” he says, evading the question.
“So you don’t have a girlfriend?”
He scratches his jaw. “A girlfriend? No.”
“But there must be someone,” I insist. “You’re being a smart-ass right now. If the answer was simple, you would’ve just said no.”
Renn rolls his eyes. “There is someone. But it’s not serious.”
“Why isn’t it serious?”
“That’s a question you should ask her husband.”
“Oh, Renn.” I gasp. I’m no prude, but this is pretty shocking. Renn sleeping with a married woman. Before he is even of drinking age. He is a good kid, with a good head on his shoulders. Why would he put himself in such a toxic situation?
“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you.” He takes a turn into the parking lot by the beach. “I knew you would jump to conclusions with Olympic leaps. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Explain it to me, then.” I fold my arms over my chest.
“She doesn’t nag or demand things from me. She’s not needy and doesn’t want me to go on double dates with her boring friends. She’s . . . more mature.”
“What’s more mature?” I ask. “Chronologically speaking. Give me an age.”
“Thirty—”
“Thirty!”
“。 . . two.”
“Renn!” I slap his arm.
He laughs. “Don’t Renn me, sis. Her husband’s cheating on her. He started it first! He is some financial-analyst big shot whatever. Always away. Screws his assistant on the reg.”
“How’d you meet her?”
“She came in for surfing lessons last summer. Her therapist had told her that picking up a hobby in nature would do her good, since she is not ready to confront her husband about it. The way I see it, if he is not faithful—why should she be?”