“Whose truck is this?” Trix brings over a stack of towels she’s folded and places them on the tailgate while I slide the surfboards into the bed.
“It’s mine.” I shove the towels in the back and take the ice chest from Isaac to load it up. “Drove it in high school.”
She runs her hands along the faded blue paint. “I can see you in this. It’s”—she shrugs one shoulder—“you.”
I slam closed the tailgate. “Thanks. I think?” I nod toward the big white van that is now filled with sandy kids. “Hate to see you go, but I don’t want you on the road too late.”
“Okay.” She knots her hands together and chews her lip.
I stare at her, licking my lips, so desperate to kiss her but knowing I can’t, not with the six sets of eyes that are peering out of the van windows. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow.” She throws her arms around my neck in a tight hug, her lips finding my neck where she drops a kiss, hidden from prying eyes. “Text me later.”
“Drive safe,” I say into her hair, making sure to draw in one long breath before releasing her. Trix always smells amazing, but her scent mixed with salt water and suntan oil is fucking euphoric.
My eyes devour her legs as she climbs into the van. Twenty-four hours and those’ll be wrapped around my hips. Hang in there, man. I adjust my board shorts to accommodate the raging hard-on that seemed to rise up instantly.
Trix waves at me from the window before reversing out of her spot.
I stand in the lot, watching until the red glow of her tail lights disappears around the corner.
“Things are going to change when we get back to Vegas, Surfer Girl. I just hope you’re ready for it.”
Twenty-four
Trix
My dad’s birthday party is in full swing. A yard full of kids and a few dozen friends from church all huddle around, laughing and eating cake. Mason showed up about an hour ago and was nearly tackled by my brothers and sisters the second his feet hit the front porch. Even Isaac seemed eager to get Mason outside to throw the football. With a quick hug and kiss to my forehead, he indulged my siblings.
It’s selfish, but part of me is ready to get back to Vegas so I can have him all to myself again. I plop down on an old swing my dad hung from a tree back when he brought Svetlana and me home for the first time. My fingers absently trace the letters “S&B” that we carved into the edge after they brought Isaac home from Thailand. We’d never had anything that was just ours before and wanted our new brother to know it was off limits.
What we didn’t expect was how much we’d love him. We mothered that poor kid every chance we got and continued with every other child that my parents welcomed into our family.
Mason runs across the yard, the football tucked under his arm, as at least ten kids descend and wrap around his legs. He drags them along, taking big wide slow steps while they squeal and giggle themselves silly.
“Lana, what should I do?” I whisper to no one, but hope she can hear me. “Everything is so confusing.”
Before, finding Lana’s killer was all that mattered. Now, my plight seems completely pointless.
It’s only been weeks since I met Mason, but he’s fallen right into my life and clicked into place like a missing puzzle piece.
Lana is gone. Nothing done on this earth is going to bring her any peace. It’s me. I’m the one who’s been searching for something that I thought I’d find in my quest for vengeance.
But now, that empty place in my heart, the hole I’ve been so desperate to fill after Lana died, doesn’t feel so empty anymore.
Maybe my dad was right, and I should just leave Lana’s case unsolved and allow God to sort out the rest.
“That was a sick pass!” Isaac high-fives Mason, both men laughing as the team of little football players tries to take out their legs.
“He’s a really good guy, Svetlana.” I breathe in deep, taking in the cool mountain air and desperately searching for my sister’s presence. “Tell me it’s okay to move on. That I’m not letting you down.” I cast my gaze toward the sun and close my eyes, needing her guidance now more than ever. “Please . . . tell me what to do.” A sign, something. Anything.
A twig snaps and my eyes dart open.
Mason.
His hand extends toward me. “You ready?”
I blink up, taking in his peaceful smile, soft eyes, and the sun shining behind all that blond hair that makes him look like an angel. “Is it time?” To move on?
“Yeah, baby,” he whispers.
I suck in a shaky breath and grip the big wooden seat. “I think I am.” I brush my fingers along our carved initials. I’m scared.
The warmth of his hand slides behind my neck, coaxing me off the swing and into the solid strength of his chest. “I know it’s hard to say good-bye.”
He has no idea.
I sniff back tears that threaten to spill and simply nod.
“Bea, we gotta go or you’ll be late,” Isaac calls.