Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 278(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Carson makes a pained sound beside me and drops to his knees. “Sean!”
I put my arm around my friend, watching in utter horror as the guards try their best to stop the bleeding and perform CPR. It’s no use; by the time the paramedics arrive, Sean is declared dead. The pain and anguish that swarms my body when they tell me those words makes me fall forward into the sand and cry out with a pain I didn’t know existed.
Carson is silent beside me, his face blank, his eyes distant.
People are crying around us.
Police are on the scene.
It’s chaos, but I can hear nothing but the sound of my own agonized roars.
Someone tries to help me.
To help Carson.
Somehow we end up off the beach and are sat at a table on the grass. Police are asking questions, cameras are everywhere, and the world is utter fucking chaos. I can’t hear them or see them. All I can hear and see is my friend, bleeding to death on the sand.
His life completely ripped out from beneath him.
Carson is beside me, head hung, body slumped.
I reach over and take his hand.
He squeezes mine back.
And then we fall into a deafening silence once more.
Sean is gone.
15
NOW – MERLEIGH
I throw my head back in a wild laugh that trails across the quiet night. Carson is beside me, chuckling too. We came back to my shack, one thing led to another and we found ourselves having a few drinks and frying up some steaks on the grill. Carson is so easy to get along with, it feels like I’ve known him forever.
“I have never gotten along with someone so well before,” he says when he finishes laughing.
I don’t even remember what we were laughing about, it just feels good to do it.
“I have to say the same, it’s a pretty nice feeling. I have rarely met people in my time who I’ve gotten along with so well.”
“Well, I’m glad I knocked you over with your armful of sticks.”
“Carson?”
The voice comes from the left of my porch, and it’s a familiar voice. Bohdi. My head whips around to see him standing near the front steps, staring up at us, his face scrunched in an unfamiliar expression of pain, and rage and wait ... how does he know Carson?
I blink.
“Bohdi? Bohdi, is that you?”
Carson stands, his eyes wide, and he walks over to the railing to stare down at Bohdi, who is looking at him like he’s seeing his best friend for the first time in years. They know each other? How the hell do they know each other? Through surfing?
“You two know each other?” I ask, confused.
Bohdi walks up the stairs, staring at Carson, his eyes narrowed. Carson stares back, shaking his head in confusion. “You’re dead. Isla ... she said you had an accident ...”
“I’m not dead. It’s a long story.”
“Fuck,” Carson says, his voice strained. “Is this a dream or is it really you?”
“It’s me.”
“Fuck.”
He lunges forward and throws his arms around Bohdi and, to my surprise, Bohdi returns the hug, hanging onto Carson so tightly it’s almost painful to watch. It’s like a brother who hasn’t seen his family in years, or a wife who has had a husband at war. The intensity of their hug shows a relationship that goes back a long while.
Carson pulls back, and I see him swipe his face with the back of his hand. He’s crying? What the hell is going on?
I stand, and Bohdi looks to me.
“How do you know Carson?”
“We met today, actually,” I say softly. “How do you two know each other?”
“Bohdi is my best friend,” Carson says, his voice gruff. “We grew up together, surfed together, been through thick and thin together. He’s basically my brother.”
Oh.
Oh, boy.
What are the chances of me meeting Bohdi’s best friend and forming a connection with him? It makes sense now, why I get along with Carson so well. The two of them are so incredibly similar, and they’d have to be to be such good friends. Bohdi is broodier and quieter, sure, but I understand now why I was drawn to this new stranger.
He reminds me of Bohdi.
“What are the fuckin’ chances?” Bohdi murmurs. “You two just ran into each other?”
“Yeah,” Carson laughs. “I knocked poor Merleigh here over, and asked her out for a coffee. She accepted and here we are.”
Bohdi stares at me, his eyes flashing with something I haven’t seen come from him. Is it jealousy?
“It’s a small world, I guess,” I say with a sheepish shrug as both eyes turn to me.
“How do you two know each other?” Carson asks.
“Merleigh is friends of some people that are in the club I joined. We know each other through that. I’m teaching her to surf.”
Bohdi’s explanation is so very ... plain. Like we’re just two acquaintances.