Neither could she.
We had exchanged a dozen or more of these love-sick grins since getting hauled out of the ocean on a jet ski. A single loop kept playing in my head:
Serena had saved my life.
And she still loved me.
“The good news is I don’t hear any fluid in your lungs,” the paramedic said. “The bad news is that as soon as the adrenaline wears off, you’re going to feel like you were hit by a car.”
I chuckled, then winced at the pull in my rib cage. “Thanks for that good news-bad news combo. I’m Cope, by the way.”
“I’m Serena,” my wife said. “And I think I’m already experiencing that hit by a car feeling.”
The paramedic grinned, shaking our hands. He was a tall Black man with square-rimmed glasses, about my age. “My name is Trevor. Nice to meet you both.”
“Is it normal to feel like my lungs were used as a punching bag by the ocean?” I asked.
“Unfortunately,” he said, handing us ice packs before writing something down on a notepad. “You both went through the earth’s spin cycle, basically.”
“Yay,” Serena said.
Trevor cracked another grin. “Having a sense of humor about it will help. Because it’s going to be terrible. Not your first wipeout though, right?”
“No, but my worst by far,” she said. “Did you see it happen?”
He grimaced. “I did. Until the hold down, the audience was going wild for you, though. You were the strongest competitor out there today. I’m no expert, but I do staff a lot of these events. You did great.” He looked at me. “Both of you.”
I shrugged. “I only showed up for the last five minutes. I don’t deserve any credit.”
He laughed as he handed Serena a piece of paper. “Nothing fancy here. Ice, heat, pain relievers, and rest.” He glanced over at Dora. “That means no training, no surfing, no swimming.”
Dora held up her hands. “The only thing on her schedule is to eat the cake I promised I would bake her.” She paused. “Also, can we hug her now?”
“Go for it,” Trevor said. “Gently.”
Serena opened her arms, and all three women latched themselves to her, talking over one another. They’d called the competition a half hour ago. Serena had placed third overall but probably would have won if she’d stuck that final wave and hadn’t wiped out.
When they called it, though, we were both still being examined—she was holding a bag of ice on her shoulder as Trevor checked her for sprains. I’d cast a curious look her way as they read the results, sure she’d be disappointed. Instead, she seemed ecstatic.
“That’s fucking awesome,” she’d said as she smiled.
“Do you see a lot of wipeouts in your job?” I asked Trevor.
“Some,” he said, leaning an arm against the ambulance door. “This was the first one where a surfer was rescued so dramatically by her…” He waved his arm in my direction.
“Protection agent,” I said carefully.
“Really?” He didn’t sound convinced.
“We have really good professional chemistry.” But I smiled at him, and he laughed, shaking his head.
“Say no more.”
I shifted and felt a corresponding zap of pain. He touched my arm, searched my face. “What hurt? Are you okay?”
“Just like…” I indicated all of me. “In here. Everywhere.”
“Make sure you see your doctor if any of it gets worse. If you hear a ringing in your ears or have muscle weakness, that kind of thing, okay?”
“I will, thanks,” I said. For some reason, Serena’s uncomfortable question from last night came back to me. Are all of your clients Bond villains? Between the thoughtful attention of Serena’s friends, checking her gear, and the paramedics patching us up with compassion, it painted a grim comparison of the people I worked for.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure, what’s up?”
I rubbed my hand across my jaw. “Why did you decide to become a paramedic?”
“Easy,” he said. “I really wanted to help people. Sounds corny, but it’s the truth. And I believe that in emergency situations, people deserve someone who’s kind and calm. A person who treats them like a human being and not just a body with symptoms. It’s the toughest job I’ve ever done, but I always feel useful at the end of the day. Like I did the right thing.”
A memory of my father floated up, a random sunny Sunday morning when I was probably eleven or twelve. He was making us breakfast, singing along to the radio, before we were heading out to help do a beach cleanup with some other surfers. I had wanted to sleep in, fuck around with my friends, and I definitely didn’t want to pick up trash all day. Partway through my complaining, he’d slid a plate of pancakes across the counter, stopping me mid-sentence.
On this planet, our actions have more impact than our words. So we always have to do the right thing.
I leaned forward. “Could I talk to you sometime about your job?”
“Being a bodyguard isn’t working out for you?”
I noted where I was sitting, in a vehicle full of life-saving medical supplies and devices. Thought about Arnold Sheffield, a man with totally gross levels of privilege and wealth, complaining about his $75 cup of coffee.
“You know, I’m starting to think it’s not,” I said. “Having someone to call would be nice.”
He scribbled his number down on that same white pad and handed it to me. “Don’t hesitate, honestly. We always need more good people out here.”
Another person grabbed him, mentioning something about dehydration, and he hurried off toward the beach. Not a second later, Dora was hugging me, binding my arms against my side. “Honestly, Dora, this isn’t really that gentle?”
“You’re such a brave fool.” She stepped back, covertly wiping her eye before lifting her chin. “Try not to do that again.”
“I wish I could promise not to be a fool around Serena, but that’s a promise I can’t make.”
She pursed her lips. “If you won’t listen to me, maybe your mother can talk some sense into you.”
I turned around in my seat, and there she was, looking equal parts amused, scared, and grateful. I’d asked Dora to call her, still gasping, as we were pulled onto the beach. The last thing that woman needed was to see video of her son being rescued on some breaking news segment. Not after the hostage incident. And not after my father’s drowning either.
I opened my arms to her, only grimacing slightly. She came in for a hug. She was only shaking a little bit, but I held her extra tight until she finally went still.
“Were you terrified?” she asked softly.
“Out of my mind with it.”
Terrified couldn’t really describe the sudden realization that I was stranded in the middle of the ocean with Serena and a thirty-foot wave charging towards us. The fear was like an icy, endless well, and it was only Serena’s level-headed composure that had gotten me through it. I’d barely had time to process that her sheer strength and expert training had saved us both.
I was prepared to thank her for that for the rest of my life.
“So really bad wipeout, huh?” she said as she stepped back, eyes shining but voice steady.
I grinned. “Dad would be proud.”
She squeezed my hand. “Dad would be proud of everything you did today.” She opened her right arm to Dora, hugging her close. They gazed at each other like old friends. “It’s good to see you, Theodora.”
“You too, Helen. I’ve missed the whole McDaniels family,” she said with a wry grin. “And your mother’s right, Cope. Your dad was always first in that water whenever anyone called for help. And his wipeout prescription was pretty similar to what Trevor said, except it also included first stopping for California burritos from Taco Surf Shack.”
I still had a crystal-clear memory of my dad teasing Billie while eating that exact burrito with an ice pack on his knee. That one hurt. Had my throat closing with the sharp ache
of missing him.
“He wasn’t wrong about his burrito choices,” I finally said.
My mom peeked at Serena, who was still turned away and watching videos of the event with Prue, Kalei, and a few other friends. “You forgot to mention who your new client was.”
I gave her a sheepish grin. “Does ‘my bad’ suffice?”
“No, it does not.”
“What about ‘I’ve been so busy’?”
“Try again.”
“‘I’m sorry’?”
She smiled. “That’s better.” She studied me with an expression of maternal wisdom. “Are things… okay between you two?”
“Getting there. I hope.”
She sighed, dropped her voice low. “I always thought your breakup was more of a pause than an ending. Couples, especially those as young as you both were, sometimes need space to grow. To branch out, to figure out who they are without a partner. Your father and I met when we were twenty-one, and even though it’s exhilarating to be in that young-love stage, it was also when we had most our issues.”
I laughed beneath my breath. “That is a truth we are both now learning.” I glanced over at Serena before looking back at my mom. “I watched her for the very first time today.”
I didn’t have to explain more. She understood.
“It changes everything, doesn’t it?” she said kindly.
I nodded, remembered her surfing across that wave like she had wings. Serena, you are a masterpiece.
“Surfers really live the life they’ve been given. It attracts those with wild and unruly spirits and a hunger for adventure. It’s why I fell in love with your father. And it’s why I’ve always loved Serena.” She rested her hand on my shoulder. “They teach us a lot about living fully in the moment, no matter what we’re doing.”
I mulled that over. I’d certainly felt that way since taking this assignment, but that was absolutely the Serena Effect and not the role I played as her paid security. The four years without her had flown by in a mixture of heartache, yearning, and being really bored with a job I believed was my birthright.
Maybe I was wrong about all of it.
“Helen?” Serena’s eyes went wide when she realized my mom was here.
Then my mom was hugging her. It took a second for Serena to hug her back, like she wasn’t sure she was real. But my mother held her close, and Serena relaxed into the embrace with a shy smile.
“I was worried about you when Dora called and wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Oh, thank you.” Serena’s smile widened. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Of course, I did,” she said.
The unspoken words hung between them. Serena didn’t have a lot of people in her life who worried about her. I knew it meant something that my mom had come without judgment or expectation.
“It’s so good to see you,” Serena said.
“And you,” my mother replied. “You were flawless out there today. Queen of The Wedge.”
Serena grinned. “Thanks, Helen. That means a lot.”
Dora reappeared by the ambulance. “You’ve both been cleared to go. Want me to give you a ride back home?” She didn’t even hesitate to include me in that destination which was good. I wouldn’t have left Serena’s side for anything.
“Please,” Serena said. “Trevor wasn’t joking about that whole hit-by-a-car thing.”
“Your brother is meeting us there by the way,” Dora said. “Called in backup for food and other provisions.”
I slid off the back of the ambulance and held my hand out for Serena. She took it, hopping down gingerly, and the electricity that sparked between just that casual contact rippled through my entire body.
“My brother is extremely good at provisions,” she said. “And I’m about to fall asleep on my feet.”
I felt it too, a deep exhaustion yawning ahead of me. I shook my head and grabbed my jacket and tie from where Prue had collected my shed clothing on the beach. Checked my phone, but no messages from Quentin.
Everything okay? Any updates? I texted.
As we started walking through the crowd with my mom and Dora on either side of us, people were making room, clapping for Serena, waving ecstatically. Still no David or Marty, and not a single Aerial employee came running over to see if their brand ambassador was okay after her massive wipeout.
It was concerning, but my brain was also getting fuzzier and fuzzier as the adrenaline drained away.
“Serena?” All four of us turned at the voice—it was Rosa Hernández, the reporter from two days ago. There was a camera guy next to her, and she was holding a microphone. “Oh my god, are you okay? We were all so scared for you.”
Serena brushed a few strands of hair from her forehead. “My body has certainly felt better, but yeah. I’m okay.”
Rosa peered over her shoulder like she was confused. “This is a weird coincidence, but we were scheduled to cover a press conference with the Lattimore brothers today,” she said. “You haven’t seen them, right? Because it’s looking like they blew off my interview.”
Serena shot me a covert glance. “That is weird, actually. I saw them yesterday, and they said they’d be here.”
I peered toward the parking lot, squinting my eyes against the sun. Didn’t see the SUV anymore.
“Well, do you feel up for a couple questions?” Rosa asked. “Especially since it seemed like you had more to say at Trestles before you were interrupted.”
Understanding dawned on Serena’s face. “I sure did have a lot to say.”
Rosa nodded and spoke quickly to her camera crew. Then faced us with a camera-ready smile. “Serena Swift, you had an absolutely incredible day today, which culminated in a two-wave hold down and a dramatic rescue. How are you feeling?”
Serena shrugged but grinned. “Honestly? Like I was run over by a couple trucks the size of a thirty-foot wave.”
“Everyone on the beach was watching with bated breath,” Rosa said. “We are so happy to see you okay and standing up. How do you feel about coming in third?”
“I feel proud of myself,” she said. “And proud of the women I competed with today. I’m in awe of their talent.”
Rosa touched her earpiece and tilted the mic back toward Serena. “Is there anything you want to say about what today means to you? Or to Aerial?”
Serena drew herself up to her full height. The wind caught her long hair, tangling it behind her shoulders, making her seem even more like an ocean goddess. “I won’t speak for Aerial, but I will speak for myself, as a woman competing in an extreme sport dominated by men. I just survived a brutal two-wave hold down in pursuit of excellence, for a sport I’ve dedicated more than a decade of my life to. I wasn’t here today for men’s approval or their amusement. Unlike the messages that are pervasive in this industry, women surfers are not objects or sex symbols. We’re elite-level athletes asking to be treated equally and for our blood, sweat, and tears to be taken seriously. And whether we deserve to be surfing the same big waves as everyone else isn’t up for debate.”
My heart soared for the woman in front of me—comfortable in her skin, bold with her words, strong in her voice. There was no wavering or diminishing. She was telling the truth, and it deserved to be heard.
Rosa’s face was surprised and then approving. “I have to say I agree. You’ve always been a role model, and we’re all very excited to see you getting a larger spotlight.”
Serena’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, well, thank you.”
The reporter brought the microphone back down to her side, ending the interview, and the camera man stepped back.
“I’m so sorry about the other day,” Rosa said. “I was hoping I’d get a chance to talk to you without David and Marty around. My mom and my sister surf, and you are their favorite athlete.”
“It’s really okay,” Serena said warmly. “I appreciate getting the do-over. And tell your mom and sister to come to my spot in La Jolla. We can surf together.”
�
��They will—and I’m not joking here—literally die with happiness when I tell them this.”
Serena grinned as Dora started leading her away toward the parking lot. “Thank you again for the opportunity.”
The reporter smiled. “Thanks for always speaking up.”
I followed behind Serena, Dora, and my mom as they stepped gingerly through the sand. I saw Dora wrap an arm around Serena’s shoulders and squeeze.
“I’m so proud of you, kid.”
“I was only doing my best you impression,” she teased back.
Dora laughed as she led us to my car. “After everything that happened today, I think I’m going to have to bake you two cakes.”
36
Cope
Caleb had, indeed, brought the provisions.
Serena’s brother showed up right after Dora had left, driven back to her house by my mother. Both women had given us long hugs with suspiciously wet eyes and strict instructions on rest. The second they left, Caleb arrived, fully dressed in his white Coast Guard uniform, having come straight from base.
He took one look at us standing on the front porch—wobbling and exhausted—and said, “Ouch. Wipeoutville. Population: You, huh?”
Serena tried to punch Caleb in the arm but ended up yawning instead. He laughed, following us inside with his arms full of groceries and supplies.
“I can only stay for a minute, but I went out and got everything we tend to use after a big rescue job.” He set the bags down and walked into the living room, where he immediately began making up the old yellow couch, pulling out the bed inside. As he grabbed sheets and pillows, I turned toward an extremely sleepy Serena. We hadn’t had a moment to ourselves to discuss what had happened between us—the danger, the rescue, saying I love you—and I couldn’t resist lifting the messy curls from her forehead to plant a kiss there.
“You need to sleep,” I said softly.
“So do you.” She could barely keep her eyes open. Neither could I, but my unease with Aerial was a steady thrum that, while severely muted, had me wondering if the two of us were safe right now. “Have you heard from Quentin?”
Out of the Blue Page 26
