I started, then hurriedly stuffed the box under the bench. I frowned. Was that Joey’s voice?
Sliding my newly written letter under the mail I’d brought on board, I cleared my throat as I heard the unmistakable sounds of someone tying a kayak up next to mine. There was the dull and hollow bang of our fiberglass hulls colliding, followed by the rough sound of abrasive sliding.
I gritted my teeth at the way my heart fluttered. I’d been planning on staying here a while longer and maybe pulling out some of my dad’s old Duke Ellington records. Standing, I smoothed my shirt and glanced at my reflection in the tiny mottled mirror opposite me. Whatever. I ran my hands over my blonde hair that was pulled off my face like I always wore it for kayaking.
“Jazz,” he called again on a grunt as he presumably pulled himself aboard.
I hoped for a good tone. “Yeah? I’m coming.” I picked up the stack of mail. Sticking my head out, I grabbed the railing and made quick work of pulling myself up into the bright morning air and squinted against the sight of Joseph Butler in dark board shorts and a white fitted Under Armour shirt, the low morning sun just above his left shoulder. His dark blond hair was unkempt and wind tossed.
“Hey,” he said, an amused smirk dancing around his lips. “What’s up?”
“You’re wearing a halo,” I muttered with a scowl. “And I, for one, know that’s been misplaced. Step out of the sunbeam, Kelly Slater.”
“Hmmm. Naming me after a surf god. I’ll take that comparison. Thanks.”
“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes, but I was amused. “I was making reference to the surf bum look. The crazy hair. Not—”
“He’s bald now.”
“He shaves his head.”
“Because he’s going bald.”
“You know that’s not the point.”
“I know. You’ve never complimented me voluntarily, you’re hardly going to start now.”
I frowned. “I haven’t?” I stayed on the top step just below deck level and leaned my weight on one side of the opening, cocking my head. “And I didn’t realize you were tallying.”
Joey snorted, smiling, and ran a hand through his hair, darker blond from being away at college studying and not here on the coast where he’d grown up. “It’s hardly a memory challenge of keeping count. The number is always zero.”
“Well, what are you good at, then?” I asked, crossing my arms. “I’ll be sure to look out for it and compliment you.”
“Finding my sister’s best friend. Knowing her habits.”
I cocked an eyebrow.
“Annoying the shit outta her,” he added, reaching out a hand to balance on the mast when the boat rocked gently.
“Now you’re talking.” I pursed my lips.
“Why is that, by the way?”
“Why’s what?” The wind picked up across the water bringing the scent of bacon and biscuits from one of the marina restaurants serving breakfast. My stomach growled.
“Why is it that I annoy you so much?”
I shrugged. “You—” I stopped. Why was I getting drawn into this?
“You don’t even know why, do you?” Joey ventured.
Thinking back to the first time I met Keri Ann and saw her brother Joey, I rolled my eyes. “I do. But I doubt you remember it.” My stomach growled again, earning me an amused laugh.
“I’ll bet you breakfast that I do.”
“I didn’t realize you were already back for the summer.”
“Yep. Semesters over. You missed dinner last night. Keri Ann said you were coming over.”
I looked away. “My mom needed me. What are you doing out here, anyway?”
“I went for a morning kayak and saw yours. What are you doing out here on your own?”
I shrugged, unwilling to tell the truth that I just needed to feel closer to my dad today. “Breakfast sounds good.”
We climbed back into our kayaks, Joey holding mine steady, and pulled ourselves in silence back toward the marina. I’d never shared a meal with Joseph Butler, just the two of us. This would be a first.
JOEY’S EYES DROPPED to the stack of mail I’d put on our outside table at Sunrise Cafe. “You hear from him?”
I started, surprised.
“I assume you go to his boat when you miss him? Maybe?” Joey sat back in his chair angled away from the table and propped an ankle over his knee. “I wish there was somewhere I could go to feel closer to Mom and Dad.” Joey smiled crookedly, then cleared his throat.
A small burn stung my eyes and nose, my chest swelling as I acknowledged my own sadness for the loss both he and my best friend had endured when their parents died three years ago. Both their mom and their dad … gone.
My dad was just terrible at staying in touch. Some days though, I felt it would be easier if he was dead.