Blurred

He looks over to me. “My mom used to do that to me all the time when I was little.”


I laugh at the memory. “No, Trent, she did it the day I graduated high school.”

“Fuck, then that’s where my mom gets it from.” He laughs.

I pull his head to me. “Damn straight, so cut the fucking swearing already.”

“What’s so funny?” Serena asks, tugging the door to the rental truck down.

“Just boy talk. Nothing for you to worry about big sis,” I tell her.

“Right.” She smirks.

I nod my head toward the house. “Let me just give it a once over, then we’ll head out.”

She nods in response, moving to swipe Trent’s hair from his eyes.

I walk through my family’s house, which now seems so much emptier without some of my mother’s things, and slowly walk from room to room. My sister came back from Hawaii the minute I called her after my arrest and we both cried for forgiveness. I love her and I need her in my life—I finally told her that. We handled our grief in different ways, and I’m not saying either was right or wrong, but we now know we need to stick together no matter what.

We are all moving into the beach house for the summer and we’ll decide what to do with it in the fall. Right now we are donating some of my mother’s things to charity to make room for all of us to live there. This way I can train Trent and when the fall comes and he heads to the University of Hawaii, he’ll be ready to enter any surfing competition he wants.

As for Jason, he was involved in the case. When Caleb finally called me back almost two weeks after Bass told me that Hart was one of Jason’s informants, he confirmed that it was Jason who gave him the name. At first he told me Jason hadn’t worked the beat in years and just threw the name at him when he asked for someone to help him out, someone looking for money who was willing to take the fall. But I knew he was lying, I felt in my gut he was the missing piece of the puzzle.

When I confronted Jason, he pulled me aside. He told me to trust him. That he was way more involved than Caleb or I knew and he’d be able to tell me soon. Whether or not he is on the up and up—I still haven’t been able to figure that out.

I circle back through the living room and stand where my mother’s desk once stood. I look down at the naked space and it doesn’t feel right. I rush out the door and fly down the stairs.

“Serena, toss me the keys,” I tell her.

She looks at me. “Did you forget to pack something?”

“No, I decided I want to keep the desk.”

“Come on, Ben, it’s so old and broken. You can buy a newer, more functional one.”

“Just toss me the keys. I want that one.”

She looks at Trent. “Here, go help him so we can get out of here.”

I unlock the door and hop up on the platform. I move a few boxes aside and drag the desk to the end. We ease it out of the truck, but it’s top heavy and tumbles over, crashing to the ground.

“Fuck!” I yell.

“Fuck,” Trent mutters.

“Trent!” Serena says with her hands on her hips.

Something shiny catches my eye as I survey the damage and I bend down to retrieve it. It’s a key.

“What’s this?” I turn around to show Serena, who is still scowling at Trent.

She takes it from me. “It looks like a safety deposit box key.”

“Did Mom have one?”

“Not that I know of,” Serena answers. “But I’ll call Hale on our way to the church and see if he knows.”

I nod at her and think about how long it has been since I’ve seen my mother’s attorney. I motion for Trent to get in the truck. He points to the pile on the ground.

“We’ll clean it up when we get back. Let’s go,” I holler back as I hoist myself into the cab.

I pull out of the large circular driveway and glance back at the heap of wood in my rearview mirror, hoping I can put the desk back together.

As Serena and Trent argue about what station to put the radio on I reflect back on the last two weeks and how my life has changed. After Dahlia and I left the beach, she drove me back to LA and dropped me off at the impound lot. She was shocked to see I had a motorcycle, but then just grinned and said, “You always did like to feel the wind against your face. So it makes sense.”

“Don’t say it,” I teased her as I got out of the car.

“Say what?” she called back.

“That I’m a dog,” I said.

“That you’re a dog,” she said in unison.

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