The Summer Between Us

Part 1 - Chapters 1 to 5

Prologue

Rowan Delaney is going to win. The heat clock ticks down on the North Shore as the winter swell marches in. A new sponsor patch sits on her yellow jersey. Her father died a few weeks ago, but they had been training for this competition together. She presses her fingers against the tattoo near her heart and tells herself today is her day. She will make her father proud.

Leilani straddles her board five yards away. People call them rivals, but that word does not fit the way they have shared hotel rooms and late-night laughter since they were juniors. Leilani has lined up against Rowan in final after final and forced her to carve sharper just to survive. It is not cruel. It is precise.

The scoreboard glows: Rowan has a pair of fives. Leilani sits on a seven-point-something. Two scoring waves each. The clock bleeds toward ten minutes. Priority is red.

A dark line thickens on the horizon. The smart call is to wait for the second or third wave, let the first unload on the shallow inside reef, then take the cleaner face behind it. But Rowan has lost a final once by holding back and watching Leilani build an entire campaign off the first bomb. She swore after that not to be polite anymore. Today, she intends to win.

She paddles. The swell lifts beneath her. For one perfect breath, she is body and balance and intention. Until she sees it. The lip thickening, the telltale feather across the top. The wave is about to pitch heavy and hollow. A clean barrel if she makes it. An explosion if she does not. Too deep. Abort. But she cannot. Not now.

Rowan drops in. She grabs the rail with her left hand, crouches low, pig-dogging the takeoff to stay tucked under the curling lip. For one perfect flash, she is inside the fury, perfectly calm, framed in a window of moving glass. Then it shuts. The lip throws farther than expected. She pumps once more to try to slip through a closing door. The board answers too late. The lip clips her shoulder. Her back foot slides, and her body goes forward while her leg stays behind. The twist comes with a pop, and her knee burns with a lightning pain that steals her breath.

Then comes the tumble. The world erases into white roar and pressure. She tucks her arms over her head, trying to protect the knee, but it is too late. The leash stretches and then yanks her backward. Agony rips through her as the joint moves in a way no joint should. Her lungs scream. She counts like always, one, two, three, and kicks for air. When she finally breaks the surface, she catches the sound of the crowd's collective gasp before the next wave detonates on her head.

Rowan tries to kick toward her board, but her left leg hangs helpless. The next hit spins her sideways, slamming the board against her thigh. Something cracks. She screams. When she surfaces again, the rescue Jet Ski is already there. The marshal pulls her onto the sled and tells her not to move it. The Ski roars toward shore. Every vibration rattles her bones.

She has seen it before, the moment a surfer's career cracks open mid-heat. Friends have torn things and returned different. Rowan told herself that would not be her. She was not just careful but lucky. Today, luck has run out. Leilani paddles through the impact zone. Their eyes meet for half a second. Rowan sees the horror, then the gleam of something fierce and sisterly that has nothing to do with medals. Rowan shoves down the burn, lifts her chin, and mouths, Go. Leilani gives a tight nod, turns, and paddles into the next set with purpose.

By the time they reach shore, hands are already lifting her onto a stretcher. The medic's fingers probe her knee, and his expression says everything. Could be ACL, he says. Meniscus, too. They will know after scans. He is sorry. Rowan turns her face away. The ice bleeds cold into her skin, and the pain digs in to stay. She lies there and pictures what is ahead: the surgeries, endless PT, the slow small victories, the nights awake with ache and questions. The pity of everyone around her. The sponsors' sympathetic excuses for pulling out and seeing how things go. She thinks of her father, who was supposed to be watching from above, but has gone quiet and eerily absent.

Her world narrows to the lagoon-green water glinting just beyond the tent. She can still see the peaks breaking, the crowd cheering as Leilani flies down another perfect face. The horn blares. The heat ends. Her career is over, and her father is gone.

Two Weeks Later

Rowan Delaney watches the girl on the beach from the open door of the surf shop. The girl walks up and down the shoreline, dragging her toe in the sand. She wears a white crochet bikini top, shredded denim shorts, and a fancy lace cover-up. Her sunglasses scream designer, and her wrists are stacked with Pura Vida bracelets. She stares out at the group of surfers paddling into the waves, utterly still. Then she ducks her head and goes back to making random lines in the white sand.

The pain in Rowan's knee is now a dull throb rather than a vicious slice. She pegs the girl as a wandering guest from a fancy hotel trying to escape her parents. Rowan turns away and begins organizing the new inventory of sun products. Tino has mixed up the brands again, cluttering the shelves in random heaps even though she instituted an organized spreadsheet. She methodically fixes the mess while Jimmy Buffett sings over the speakers about paradise.

"Hi." Rowan spins around. The girl stands behind her, sunglasses now perched on top of her head. Up close, Rowan realizes she is younger than she thought, barely a teen. A sprinkling of acne dusts her forehead. Ash-blond hair falls to her shoulders. Her eyes are big and blue and dominate her angular face.

She asks if they have water. Rowan points to the cooler. The girl lifts a rose gold Stanley cup and asks if there is a place to refill it. Rowan explains they just sell bottled water. The girl nods and bites her lip, revealing the bright blue inserts of her braces. She says she does not like to buy plastic bottles because of the environment. Rowan stops her and offers to fill it in the back, as long as she does not mind tap. The girl brightens like she has been given a gift.

Rowan walks around the counter and takes the overlarge cup. The girl's voice is bright and bubbly as she keeps talking, saying the shop is cute and tucked away like a cool surprise. Rowan calls back that they cater to locals. The girl says she bets these are real surfboards, not the overpriced designer ones used by fake surfers. Rowan's lips twitch. She has never heard of fake surfers before. The girl explains there are tons of people who think it is cool to surf once to say they did it, like jumping out of a plane. She asks if she is making sense.

Rowan hands her the cup. She says she gets it, but surfing is not for everyone. The girl laughs awkwardly and introduces herself as Kelsey. Rowan gives her name. Kelsey seems reluctant to leave and asks if Rowan surfs. Rowan forces a smile and says not anymore, she just sells the stuff. Kelsey says that is cool, too, and wrinkles her nose as if realizing she said something dumb.

Rowan feels the pang of discomfort with her. She remembers how hard middle school was, wanting to disappear and come back as a poised, confident adult. She gives a reassuring smile and says she gets to hang on the beach and score discounts. Kelsey laughs with relief and says she would love that. She cannot wait until she is old enough to work at a store rather than babysit. Toddlers give her the ick. But her dad says she needs to learn to earn money the old-fashioned way. She would rather pet-sit, but she does not live around neighbors with dogs, so she is stuck.

Amusement ripples through Rowan. She confides that she is not fond of little kids either, definitely more of an animal person. Kelsey brightens and asks if she has pets. Rowan says she has a rabbit. Kelsey's blue eyes widen. She does not know anyone with a pet rabbit and asks his name. Rowan says Bagel. Kelsey laughs with delight and says that is adorable. She would do anything for a pet but is not allowed. Longing flickers over her features. She asks if Rowan can bring Bagel one day so she can meet him. She is here for the summer and staying close by.

She is interrupted by the chatter of surfers entering the store. Rowan notices how quickly Kelsey shuts down, like a snail curling back into its shell. Two girls, regulars, their hair wet and salty, skin tanned brown, rifle through the cooler. They ask Rowan if she has pineapple ice pops. Rowan says just strawberry. Chelsea, handing a red pop to her friend, asks if Rowan can tell Tino to get more pineapple.

Brie asks if the shop is sponsoring anyone for the surfing contest next month. She scrapes back her wild curls and fastens them with a clip. She is the same on a surfboard. Rowan knows she is ambitious and has been amping up her practice hours. Brie's older sister, Lea, is already a well-known competitor on the circuit. Brie has some edge but a long way to go and little patience. Rowan says she thinks so and has to talk to Tino.

Brie gives her a long stare and says maybe one day Rowan will get back on her board and give Lea some real competition again. Rowan's body grows cold. Ice clips her voice as she says three dollars for the pops. Brie blinks. Chelsea digs the cash from her shorts at the same time Brie turns to study their quiet observer. Immediately, the two scent blood like the sharks they are.

Brie asks if the city girl is lost. Kelsey says no, just poking around, and gives an eager grin. She introduces herself and says she saw them surfing and they are incredible. She asks if they are joining that contest. Rowan winces. Why do the sweet ones get tortured? Brie only responds to strength, and it is obvious Kelsey is not finding any.

Chelsea shoves the cash into Rowan's hand and joins her friend. She says they are in training and her gaze takes in Kelsey's outfit. She asks why Kelsey is not at the fancy beach club, where they give her type lessons. Kelsey nibbles on her lip, an obvious nervous habit, and says she thought she would check out other beaches, see some real surfing. She would love to go to the North Shore.

Brie asks if she is interested in learning. Kelsey says it looks amazing. The girls share a knowing look. Brie says they will teach her with fake sweetness, but she has to ditch the jewelry, the bag, and those ridiculous shoes. Chelsea offers to hold them and says to come with them. They will show her a good time. They are pricey, but it will be totally worth it, much better than the loser instructors at the Hilton.

Kelsey hesitates. Rowan says enough. All three girls stare at her. She lifts a brow and asks Brie if she is not due to pick her brother up. She knows Brie's mom mentioned having to work late this week. Probably not a great time for lessons. Her words have enough edge to get them to back off. Brie gives a half shrug and tells the city girl to come back later, they will have some fun. Chelsea giggles, and they walk out.

Rowan shakes her head and returns to the counter. She tells Kelsey that Brie and Chelsea are harmless, but she would not recommend paying them for lessons. Kelsey nods and glances at the door. She says she figured. She asks if they surf in competitions. Rowan says some, but they are still learning. She studies the girl's longing stare and tries to harden her heart. She says if Kelsey wants to surf, the hotels have some solid instructors.

Kelsey straightens her shoulders and says she is not at a hotel. They rented a place for the summer. Rowan asks with her mom and dad. Kelsey says just her dad, and Rowan catches the defensive tone. Damn if she does not feel worse. Kelsey explains her dad has this big business deal going on. She thought learning to surf would be cool. It is what she does not volunteer that tells Rowan the real truth. Her father is busy working and she is on her own for the summer. There is only so much shopping, sunbathing, and sleeping a young girl can do before getting bored. Rowan gets the impression that having endless time alone is more of a problem than a luxury for Kelsey. Not that it is her business.

Rowan offers that Waikiki is a great place for touring, snorkeling with the sea turtles is popular, hiking through Diamond Head. She is sure Kelsey will have a great summer. Kelsey offers a weak smile, gives a wave, and says see you. Rowan watches her walk out. Why does she suddenly feel like she kicked a lost puppy back to the streets? Ridiculous. Kelsey is sweet, but she belongs at the fancy beach clubs, where she can make similar friends. Not trolling for company at an ancient surf shack, hanging with a washed-up pro surfer who has nothing to offer. Shaking her head, she wipes down the sand-spotted counter and returns to stocking inventory. Returns to the same routine she has known for years.

Everett Hale's Rental

Everett Hale stands in the doorway of his daughter's room, wing-tipped shoes not crossing the threshold. I have a business dinner tonight, he tells Kelsey. Do you want Italian or Mexican? The rental is a change from their place back in New York.

Part 2 - Chapters 6 to 8

Rowan tries not to glance at Kelsey's father, but he is just as jerky as she imagined. At least he let his daughter stay, though his lip curls in disdain when he looks at her. His judgment of her clothes and the casual atmosphere brims with arrogance. She reads him instantly: a man who thinks money, a designer suit, and a corporate job make him smart. She has seen his type before—executives who leave lavish city lives to build tourist hotels that cripple the island's ecosystem, then fly home without a thought for the damage. Tourism is a necessary evil and Waikiki relies on the income, but respect for locals rarely lasts past the publicity. Underneath the polish, Everett Hale is a cardboard soul. Flat. Boring. Predictable.

Tino works the grill like a master, chicken and steak smoking with pineapple and mango sauce. When he asks what she is thinking about, she says the suit looks ridiculous. But she cannot stop replaying the way Everett marched over the sand in expensive leather shoes, evoking power rather than stumbling. The charcoal suit, the narrow pink tie—his only nod to the islands. The gym-hardened body, the clean-protein leanness, the air of superiority. His face is more interesting, with a slightly crooked nose and a jawline only Ken owns, lips hinting at fullness if he ever relaxed them enough to smile. Charcoal hair cut too short to curl. Eyes so dark she wonders if his pupils swallowed the color. When he trains his gaze on her, shivers creep down her spine. Not attraction. Irritation. He is too much, and too cardboard to be Kelsey's father. Kelsey is color and edges, on the verge of claiming her vision. Everett is already a lost cause.

Tino studies Everett and asks if she gave him a hard time. She grins. Maybe. He chuckles and says the man is probably doing his best, that being a single father is not easy. Rowan points out her own father did it and was amazing. Tino's eyes shine with understanding but no pity, a quality that makes her comfortable enough to mention her father at all, a topic usually too raw. He agrees her father was amazing, but his journey was different. The ocean spoke to him and gave him a true north. He had her, but also them. A makeshift family. She tips her chin, saying nothing as the memories tumble over her. If he were here, he would be working the grill, trading banter, sharing stories around the campfire. He was a respected pillar of the surfing community, but it was his other roles that carved a place in everyone's hearts. A great father. A loyal friend. A leader who cared. Without him she is adrift. He had been her safe place since she was a baby, and most of her path was shaped by his vision: be the best surfer on the competitive circuit, be a leader to the girls coming up, give to anyone who asked for help. She built her image on what he expected, and losing everything in one big sweep made her question all of it. If she cannot surf, who is she? If she does not have her father, where is home? She bats the questions away and refocuses.

Tino continues that they are not sure what path Kelsey's father walked. She jokes it is one covered with gold coins. He says that can be the loneliest path of all. She almost rolls her eyes at his stubborn ideals, since he never talks shit about anyone. She has wished many times for that kind of detachment, but her temper usually wins. She greets people who pass but does not stop to chat. Kelsey plays with younger children, her gaze pinned hungrily to Brie and her crew, who stand in a tight circle drinking punch, boards on the sand at their feet.

Then a shadow falls over her, and the leather wing tips give him away. She does not look up, just says she is surprised he can appreciate anything other than oysters and caviar. He grunts that he hates both, and sits, earning an arched brow. She asks what he is doing. Sitting. She tells him she just called him an asshole and there are plenty of other seats. He says he wants to know why his daughter seems to like her. She blinks and answers honestly: because she listens. Kelsey is lonely. Satisfaction flickers when irritation flashes across his face, and there is something about poking this man that gives her an adrenaline rush, something Tino would disapprove of. Everett insists he listens. Things are still new, they came in only two weeks ago, and he has been swamped setting up the new hotel. She will find friends soon. Rowan does not answer, refusing to argue about something that is none of her business, and keeps eating, figuring he will leave.

He does not. He asks how she got Kelsey into those clothes and got her to help with work. Rowan says she does not think Kelsey cares about designer clothes or makeup, that around here that stuff is not important, that they believe in freedom more than conformity. He asks who "we" is, the surf shop crew. Now she is the one narrowing her eyes. Yeah, she says, they take their T-shirts seriously. He snorts, and damn if it does not sound elegant. Expensive cologne drifts to her, clove and smoke, like a crackling campfire. A chunky silver watch on his sinewy wrist. He has not loosened his tie in the heat and somehow is not red or sweaty or wrinkled.

He asks how old she is. She shoots it back, and he grins, forking up steak: thirty-six. She is twenty-nine. He asks if she has always lived here. She nods, born in California, moved at five. He falls quiet, as if waiting for her to ask him something, and she takes her time, though talking is better than being studied. She asks if he is from New York. Yes, born and bred. He thought spending the summer away would be good for Kels. She starts private school in the fall and things will get harder, extremely competitive, a strict schedule. Rowan says that sounds like a real blast and asks if everything he does revolves around rigid structure and competition. He fires back that it beats hiding out in a surf shop with nothing to show for your life. She almost jerks back. Almost. Instead she gives an angelic smile and says, "Ouch." He rubs his head and apologizes, admits he can be an, and she finishes it for him. Asshole. He says they simply have different views on what is important, that having fun is fine as long as it is done in an, and she finishes that too. A scheduled way. His brows lower. She tamps down a laugh at how rigid and precise he is. Poor Kelsey. No wonder she is starved for wildness like the ocean. Rowan wants to ruffle his hair, rip off his tie, and see him barefoot in the sand, and wonders if he is that uptight in bed. She calls it a great chat, wipes her mouth, hopes his hotel is a banger, and rises to leave.

Everett opens his mouth, probably to get the last word, and then his eyes go wide. "Holy shit! What is that thing?" Bagel has hopped out now that the heat is bearable, after being holed up with his ice cubes, and comes to perch at Everett's feet. Ears pinned back, blue eyes as big as Everett's, giving him the eerie I-see-into-your-soul stare. Rowan says it is a rabbit. He says that is not a regular rabbit, that it is staring at him like it is about to eat him alive. Bagel. Does he eat carbs? Is that why he looks mad, because bagels outside New York are not worth eating? Her lip quirks. No, he is more of a salad guy. Just be careful, he does not like strangers. Everett stills, every muscle tense, and she smothers a laugh. She would have called Bagel out sooner if she had known it was this easy to freak him out. He asks why the rabbit is not moving. She says he is thinking about attacking. A tiny yelp from the big bad suit. Priceless. Bagel does his part perfectly, eyes locked, silent like an assassin before a strike. Everett asks if she is going to help him. A real smile curves her lips. Not sure.

Then Kelsey's voice cuts in, cooing at Bagel, asking if he is saying hello to Dad. Everett braces his hands in front of him and tells her to stay, that he can handle this. She drops to her knees and Bagel immediately cuddles into her, rubbing his face on her leg, practically purring. She says Bagel is the sweetest, a rescue who hangs in the shop. Everett's teeth snap together and he shoots Rowan a dangerous look, one where amusement mixes with something darker and more elemental, as if something compelling is bubbling underneath his plastic surface. Rowan doubts he will ever allow it out. He says Bagel looks like a deranged animatronic. Kelsey gasps and tells him to stop, that he will hurt the rabbit's feelings. Bagel blossoms under her attention, and it is odd how fast he bonded to the girl, since other than Tino he is not interested in most people. Maybe he sensed Kelsey needed friendship. He obviously does not like Everett, so his instincts are still solid.

Everett's nose wrinkles. Wash your hands after, he tells his daughter, and then they had better head out, since he has an early morning. Kelsey asks if they cannot stay a little longer, it is not even sunset. He has been out since six and still has things to do. She struggles, then gives up, shoulders dropping, and disappears into the shop to get her things. Bagel twitches his nose and hops after her. Everett seems to be waiting for Rowan to make a sarcastic comment, but she stays quiet. As Kelsey comes back out, Brie and the girls whoop and grab their boards, racing over the beach to ride the sunset in, a flash of brown limbs, bikinis, and joy. Kelsey gives them one last longing look, then walks to Rowan and quietly thanks her for letting her help, apologizing if she bothered her. Rowan hugs her quickly and tells her she does not bother her, then offers to set her up for surf lessons with her friend Pamela, who is a great teacher. Kelsey gives a small smile and declines. She is not meant to surf. She does not want to try again with a stranger.

Everett speaks up then, saying surfing can be dangerous anyway, that there are better ways to spend her time than chasing waves for no reason. He will book tennis lessons at a court close by so she will be fresh when she gets back home. Nice to meet you, Rowan. Have a good summer. The dismissal is clear. Rowan bristles and fights the impulse to lose her temper and tell this infuriating man all the things he does not know, but Kelsey is already walking away, the happy energy gone like air out of a balloon. Rowan watches her shoulders drop a little more with every step until she disappears. This is not her problem or her fight. Kelsey will find her way, make a few friends, and in a few months she will be back in New York at her prep school with Hawaii as a distant summer memory. Just like Rowan.

An Old Friend on the Sand

The ache in her knee pulses with the tide, and old habit has her shifting weight to her right leg, foot digging into the cool top layer of sand for steadiness. The breeze carries brine and charred pineapple. Someone's Bluetooth speaker goes tinny, then dies. The lanterns throw soft circles that cannot compete with the orange smear of the oncoming sunset. "Ro," someone says, and she does not have to turn to know. The syllable slides down her spine, the husky tone familiar. She turns anyway and her throat does that strange catch, like going under and forgetting to exhale. Lea stands a few yards away, hands shoved into the pockets of cutoff jeans, brown hair twisted in its usual braids, barefoot and dusted with sand, her easy posture contradicting the air of wariness radiating off her. Eyes the color of polished slate. Mouth unsmiling, as if afraid to give too much away. Her T-shirt proclaims Luana Boards as her new sponsor, and irritation rises. As Tino's competitor, it is a shitty move. She expected more of Lea, but then again, she has not seen her in months. It was easier to let her go. They are not in the same world anymore.

Rowan tries deflection, asking if she is staying for the cleanup crew. Lea glances at the trail where Kelsey vanished and asks who the girl is. Rowan shrugs. Just a tourist kid. Lea takes a step closer, the distance between them tasting like a rip, and says Kelsey has that look, that she caught her staring at Brie and everyone. Rowan asks what look. Lea's mouth softens for just a second: the first time you smell a board and your whole chest goes weird. The first time the ocean calls you by your name. She asks what the girl's story is, and Rowan says her dad is staying for the summer building some luxury hotel, that she wandered into Tino's and asked about surf lessons. That's all. And you told her no. Rowan's stomach tightens. She told her she does not teach. Lea tips her head toward the tables. She heard. Rowan turned down a kid who wants to surf. Rowan blows out an annoyed breath and says she is trying to get her to take lessons from Pam, who is perfect with beginners.

Unbelievable, Lea says, spreading her hands, all that clean, strong surfer's confidence honed by years of balancing on knife water. She reminds Rowan that she used to stay out with the groms until their lips were blue, coach them through standing, wipe out with them on purpose so they would not be scared. She used to love teaching groms. What happened to her? It lands like a punch, air leaving Rowan's lungs. She grips the hem of her T

Part 3 - Chapters 9 to 11

Everett Hale shows up for Kelsey's surf lesson, surprising Rowan. She figured he would send someone else to confirm she isn't a criminal, but here he is, looking like a grumpy security guard forced into a double shift. He's removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, revealing muscled forearms and an expensive watch. Rowan pretends not to notice.

They spend the first part of the lesson perfecting Kelsey's pop-up. When it's time to hit the water, Rowan watches Kelsey paddle out with determined strokes. Something about the girl keeps dragging Rowan back to the past, reminding her of the first time she realized the water was her second home. She was lucky to have her father protect that spark. She hopes Kelsey finds someone to do the same, because it certainly won't be Everett.

Rowan forces herself to focus on the girl, not the father pacing the shoreline with a phone pressed to his ear. Kelsey pops up and falls off. Rowan grins, calling it the nicest tumble yet. Kelsey surfaces laughing. Rowan steadies the board as Kelsey clambers back on. She watches as Kelsey finally catches a small wave, her laugh carrying to shore. Rowan loves this part, the joy on a new surfer's face when they realize the ocean doesn't care who they are as long as they show up.

She turns to check that Everett is watching. He isn't. His eyes stay on his screen. Rowan bites back a sigh and tells Kelsey to try a few on her own. As soon as the girl is out of earshot, she mentions hoping his stock portfolio is worth missing what Kelsey just accomplished. His head jerks up. Rowan explains Kelsey stood up for almost five seconds, a big deal for a beginner. He blinks and says she'll tell him all about it later.

Rowan suggests he could just watch it happen. He pockets the phone, his gaze cooling, and says he's watching now. Rowan turns away. She hates how Kelsey lights up when her father arrives. Soon she'll want nothing to do with him, with boys and girlfriends becoming her focus. Rowan remembers feeling that push-pull at fifteen. A bite of regret sinks in. She wishes she could tell her father she was sorry for being difficult.

Kelsey paddles in, panting but glowing, asking if her father saw that. He says he did, calling it impressive in a voice mild enough to make Rowan want to shake him. Kelsey beams and paddles back out. Rowan remarks that the girl is working hard. His gaze tracks the horizon as he says she's always been determined and gets that from him. Rowan counters that maybe she gets it from herself. Something wounded flickers in his eyes before he covers it with a faint smirk.

Rowan says she used to teach before she can stop herself. His brow lifts, asking if she taught school. Surf camp, she says shortly. He notes that she also competed. She doesn't answer. Kelsey's shout breaks the silence. Rowan forces a smile and calls back that it was perfect form.

Everett speaks again, his tone lecturing, saying he's not sure what she thinks he's doing but it's not his stock portfolio. She raises her brow. He fires back, asking what she did today. Rowan lists her day: got up, walked, fed Bagel, came to the surf shop, did inventory, sanded boards, spoke to customers, had lunch, took another walk, made calls, and showed up for Kelsey's lesson. He takes a step closer and asks if she wants to know what he did. He woke up at six a.m. to field calls, was at the office at seven, had a contractor meeting, dealt with a disaster in hospitality, approved marketing plans, fired a staff member, fought with linen suppliers, and kissed his chef's ass so she wouldn't quit.

Rowan asks why he fired someone. He says they didn't show up for training on time. She asks if he doesn't give second chances. No, not if he wants perfection. Rowan says he must get disappointed a lot. She smirks, saying it's obvious who had the better day. His low growl makes the interaction worth it.

When the lesson wraps, Kelsey jogs to shore. They walk to the shop with Everett following. Kelsey yells that she needs to use the bathroom and disappears. Everett pulls out a sleek black card, asking Rowan's rate. She says no charge. He frowns. He tells her she must not know anything about business. Rowan says to consider this his lucky day. His eyes heat. He insists he can afford her fee. She says she can't afford his. She tells him she has a feeling the moment he puts a monetary value on things, he thinks he's in control. Her decision to teach Kelsey is hers.

His jaw locks. He calls it ridiculous, that he pays for services rendered. Rowan says Kelsey is a kid who needed someone to show her how to stand up on a board. That's not a service, it's a favor. He asks if she's doing him a favor. She's doing it for Kelsey. She doesn't want his money.

Everett crosses his arms. He asks if she doesn't like money. She doesn't like what people think it buys. She tells him she's not for sale, Mr. Hale. He corrects her, saying his name is Everett. The idea of saying it aloud keeps her in stubborn silence. Something flares in his dark eyes, then is extinguished.

The moment breaks when Everett looks down and freezes, asking what that thing is doing here. Bagel sits at his feet, staring up at him. Rowan says Bagel is part of the staff and supervises. The rabbit sniffs his pant leg and gives a decisive thump. Everett stiffens. Rowan confirms it's his way of saying Everett isn't welcome. Everett mutters that he's six two and Bagel is twelve inches. Rowan tells him size doesn't matter, Bagel runs the place.

Kelsey bounds out, delighted to see Bagel. Everett frowns, saying he dislikes livestock and suggesting she'd have more customers if she kept the rabbit home. Rowan says Bagel keeps negative energy out of the shop. Everett's mouth firms, but she catches a glimmer of amusement. Kelsey interrupts, saying she needs to change and asking her father to wait.

Silence falls. He stands near the counter, looking around like he's conducting an inspection. He asks what she does here. She tells him her most important task is making sure the sunscreen is stocked and keeping all the ice pop flavors everyone wants. He stares with suspicion, asking if she's messing with him. She says she doesn't like firing people. His shoulders snap back. He says he doesn't either, but that's what running a successful business requires. Rowan cheerfully says not all of them can live with a clear conscience. His fists clench, then uncurl.

Everett picks up a bar of surf wax, turning it over. Rowan tells him he's supposed to rub it on the board, not evaluate its molecular structure. His mouth twitches. He sets the wax down and asks if she organizes them by scent or price point. Rowan says by whatever makes Tino happy. He says so there's no system. She says they have a system, he just doesn't recognize it.

Everett's gaze slides to her, dark and assessing. He says he's starting to realize that about a lot of things here. She picks up a leash and begins coiling it. He counters that it must be nice for her not being accountable to anyone. Her hands still. He gestures around the shop, describing it as the whole beachside minimalist thing, no boss, no schedule, no pressure to actually build something. Heat flares in her chest. She tells him she helps Tino build boards, custom work, each taking weeks. He asks for what, a few hundred dollars. She shoots back that it's for someone's dream, that not everything is about profit margins. He agrees, saying some things are about hiding.

The words hit like a slap. Rowan demands to know what that's supposed to mean. Everett takes a step closer. He says Kelsey told him she was ranked in the top ten, sponsorships, magazine covers, and now she's stocking sunscreen. Her throat goes tight. She says she got injured. He notes it was a year ago. Rowan's hands fist. She wants to shove him, tell him to get out. But he's standing close enough now that she can see the clean line of his jaw, the small scar near his eyebrow, the way his pulse jumps in his throat when she lifts her chin.

Her voice ices over as she tells him he doesn't know anything about her. He says he knows she gave up. She laughs, saying she knows when to let go. She takes a step forward, closing the gap, telling him he holds on too tight, that it must be exhausting building his empire, controlling every detail, firing people for being five minutes late. She asks what happens when something breaks that he can't fix. His teeth grind together as he says he doesn't let things break. She says everyone breaks. He insists not him. She says especially him, softly. He's one wave away from it, Suit.

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes. His hand comes up, not touching her but close enough she feels the heat of his skin near her arm. He says don't. She asks don't what, tell him the truth, that he's wound so tight she's surprised he can breathe. He says she's so loose she's barely tethered to the ground. She says at least she can still feel things. His voice drops, rough at the edges, saying he's feeling plenty. Her breath catches. Anger swirls, but underneath is something worse: want.

For a brief moment, Rowan feels it from him too, the way his gaze dips to her mouth, the tension in his shoulders like he's fighting the urge to reach for her. She says he doesn't even like her. He agrees he doesn't. She says she thinks he's everything wrong with the world: greed, ambition, caring more about bottom lines than people. He says he thinks she's wasting her life playing in the sand. She tilts her head, asking why he's looking at her like that. He asks like what. She says like he wants to kiss her just to shut her up. His breath hitches. For a moment, she thinks he might actually do it. His hand lifts another inch, his gaze drops to her mouth. Neither of them moves, both refusing to look away first.

Kelsey's voice rings from the back. Everett steps back like he's been shocked, dragging a hand through his hair. Rowan turns away, pulse hammering. Kelsey bursts through the door with wet hair, ready to go. She says goodbye and they leave. When they're gone, Rowan slumps behind the counter with a groan. What the hell just happened? Was it a weird hate thing that caused that sexual tension, or is she finally losing her mind? She needs to push the entire episode from her mind and go sand some boards. Hopefully he won't show up tomorrow.

Everett walks Kelsey to the car on autopilot. The late sun is brutal. He can still feel Rowan's breath on his mouth like a phantom. Kelsey asks if he's okay, saying he's doing that thing with his jaw. He asks what thing sharply. She grins, saying the clenchy thing, that he looks like he's trying not to yell at someone in his head. He exhales. Apparently his thirteen-year-old daughter can read him better than half his executive team. He says he's fine and tells her to get in and put on her seat belt.

Rowan's voice replays in his head, uninvited. You're one wave away from it, Suit. It's ridiculous. Immature. Dangerous. He starts the car. Kelsey, still buzzing, asks if he saw when she almost ate it and then recovered, saying Rowan told her her feet were finally in the right spot. He clears his throat and says it was impressive. She beams and turns to the window. After a beat, she adds that she likes Rowan, casual in the way that means it isn't casual at all.

He swallows, saying she seems to, calling Rowan unusual. Kelsey shoots back that it's in a good way, then asks if he likes her. His grip on the wheel tightens. He thinks of the way Rowan stepped into his space like she wasn't afraid of him, the way she called out his life and landed closer to the truth than anyone had in years. He thinks of how close he came to grabbing her by the shoulders and kissing that infuriating mouth just to see if it tasted as sharp as her words. He says carefully that he thinks she's good for Kelsey's surfing. Kelsey sighs, pointing out he didn't answer the question, but lets it go, calling him weird today.

He drives them back to the house, answers her questions distractedly, and makes a dinner he barely tastes. Once she's in her room, he pours himself a drink he doesn't need and stares out at the dark line of the ocean. Normally, the day would have sorted itself inside his head by now. Instead, all he sees is the look on Rowan's face when she said everyone breaks. He wants to tell her she's wrong, that some people are built to carry more. But something in her eyes makes the lie stick in his throat. He takes a swallow of whiskey. What bothers him most isn't that she called him out. It's that a part of him worries she's right.

Maybe that's the reason he doesn't show up at the next lesson. He has an instinct Rowan will care for his daughter and keep her safe, and he doesn't need to show up in the middle of a workday. It was a one-off, an almost-kiss he's already forgotten. Everett sticks to what he does best and focuses on Purity. The second day, Tom texts a quick got her, boss and Everett pockets his phone without a reply.

Part 4 - Chapters 12 to 14

Kelsey invites Rowan to hike Diamond Head. Rowan says yes. Sunday morning she meets Kelsey, but Everett shows up too—basketball shorts, Mets cap, looking normal and human. Rowan still dislikes him for building luxury hotels and neglecting his daughter, but she can't deny the attraction. They trade barbs. Kelsey laughs.

The trail is hot and steep. Everett admits it's harder than the YouTube tutorial he watched. He confesses he's mostly guessing at parenting, trying to be the opposite of what he grew up with. Rowan tells him nobody knows what they're doing. She admits things haven't been easy since her injury and losing her dad. He says she seems strong. A shiver runs up her spine.

They meet an older woman struggling on the trail. Everett offers water, invites her to walk with them, matches her pace. He's patient and charming. At the summit, the view opens wide. Everett thanks Rowan for being more than a surf instructor to Kelsey. He invites her to a luau. She hesitates, then agrees. He teases her, says maybe she needs to give him another chance. His voice drops: to show her other things. The air between them goes electric. She steps back.

On the descent, he brings up the shop moment—when she said he wanted to kiss her. She says forget it. He asks what if he doesn't want to. He steps close. She warns him he's getting close to things he can't control. He murmurs that's the problem. She says they're a terrible idea. He whispers that if they're such a bad idea, why does it feel like they've already started. Kelsey interrupts. At the parking lot, Rowan says she's in trouble. The kind that could wreck everything.

Everett at Home

Everett can't focus on work. He keeps thinking about Rowan. He peeks at Kelsey sleeping, thinks about how Rowan makes the world interesting for her in ways he can't. He admits he'd give his soul to kiss Rowan once. He steps onto the deck, memories of his father surfacing. Twelve years old at dinner. His father's cold lessons: you're either useful or in the way. Feelings are for men who can afford them. Everett learns to cut out parts of himself. He gets his one time at bat and pops up. His father reminds him he hasn't helped. He never plays baseball again.

He texts his assistant to clear three to four for a personal block. At 2:45 he leaves the hotel for the beach.

Trouble at the Surf Shop

Leilani and Brie visit the shop. Things have been strained since Rowan quit surfing. Lea invites Rowan to a get-together. Brie accuses Rowan of abandoning them for months, then teaching some rich haole. Rowan explains she's teaching Kelsey for free. Lea pushes her to come at six.

At the lesson, Everett watches Kelsey surf. She's improving, laughing when she falls. His phone buzzes repeatedly. Rowan tells him he can answer. He snaps that it's about the thing that pays for everything. She says he looks the opposite of sane. Lea calls out—Dad, did you see that? He missed it. He apologizes and leaves. Rowan asks if everything's okay. He explodes: he has responsibilities, she has none. She makes him forget his. Her face shuts down. He drives away without looking back.

Chapter Thirteen

Rowan invites Kelsey to the get-together. Kelsey is nervous but agrees. At the beach, the surfers welcome Rowan back with some tension. Siena calls her a pain in the ass. They laugh. Kelsey paddles out with Brie and Chelsea. She falls repeatedly but keeps getting up. Lea tells Rowan she needs to get back on a board or she won't be whole. Rowan admits she freezes when she thinks about surfing. Lea says Kelsey might be the key.

Kelsey runs up triumphant after staying upright five seconds. Brie gruffly says she did well for a kook. Lea offers Rowan an extra leash. Rowan admits she has no board. Lea insists she get a new one. Rowan stares at the horizon and doesn't look away.