“All right,” she said, pinning his dad with a fierce glare. “I’m trusting you, Paul. You know him best, and I know you’ll keep an eye on him. No more than six ibuprofen in twenty-four hours.”
She turned back to Toff. “Christopher, if you plan to compete again, which I’m sure you do, please do as I say. Rest. Let your body heal. Then you can kick everyone’s butt like you always have.”
It took him a few seconds to process her words. He appreciated her compliment, but it didn’t diminish the frustration building inside him. “I don’t know how I’m going to survive.” He groaned. “But I’ll stay out of the water.” Maybe.
“Excellent. Come back and see me in two weeks.” She typed quickly on the computer, pausing to glance over her shoulder at his dad. “I hear congratulations are in order. I’m thrilled for you and Rose.”
Toff grimaced, thinking of Amy’s book again. He’d skipped ahead to the ending, skimming a few middle chapters full of makeup/breakup drama. The couple finally got their act together, and in the last scene, they were in love again and everyone was all, You two were always so perfect for each other, even in high school.
Blech. Who fell in love in high school? Besides Dallas and Viv, but they were the exception. Exceptional weirdoes.
“Toff.” His dad’s voice was sharp. “Are you listening?”
Toff blinked, yanking himself out of book brain into the present. Was this why Amy always had that dreamy look in her eyes? Was she reliving those books she read nonstop? Was she thinking about the non-gratuitous scenes she got all defensive about? How experienced was she in that arena anyway?
“Toff!”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m listening.”
“Dr. Brooks was saying how amusing it is that you’re getting a sister at this age.”
Toff met his dad’s gaze, surprised by the anxiety etched on his dad’s face. “Viv’s been like my sister forever,” he said. “This wedding thing just makes it official.”
His dad’s features relaxed, relief filling his eyes. Crap. Was his dad worried about him and Viv? Hell, that was the easiest part of this whole deal. Toff swung his legs around so they dangled off the table and grabbed his T-shirt, tugging it over his head.
“Thanks, Doc.” He needed to get out of here. Flashing her his most charming smile, he said, “I promise I’ll stay out of the water.”
Her eyebrows rose over her glasses and she shook her head. “I’m sure you leave a trail of broken hearts everywhere you go, Christopher.”
Trail of broken hearts? Hardly. He did casual, not relationships. And right now, the only girl he wanted to hang out with was Amy. It was strange for him, but he was going with it.
He slid off the table and shoved his feet into his flip-flops. Like he’d ever talk about girls with these two.
Dr. Brooks opened the examining room door and paused in the doorway. “I’ll see you soon.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “In the meantime, please behave.”
Toff shrugged. He didn’t feel like behaving.
As they left the doctor’s office, he struggled to get a grip on the anger slowly building inside him as the reality of his extended prison sentence sank in.
He felt so trapped by his own body, which was nuts. Doc had told him not to, but he wanted to run straight into the ocean. He craved the waves—ached for water and the wind and his board and the challenge of reading the swells and pushing himself to execute his most difficult maneuvers over and over, until his legs gave up.
Dammit all.
…
On the ride home, the anger continued to swirl inside his gut, his chest, clogging his throat. His body vibrated with it, coiling inside him like a snake ready to strike. Two more weeks landlocked. And miss the Summer Spectacular. Toff’s jaw clenched as he stared out the window.
He was so done.
“I want to go pro.”
“What? You think you’re ready after how you behaved today?” Dad snapped. “No way in hell.”
Toff’s head whipped toward his dad. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dad shot him a glare. “I know you. You’re not going to follow the doctor’s orders. You’re going to try to push yourself before you’re ready.”
“I am ready!” His hands fisted on his thighs, the coiled snake inside him rearing back, hissing. “Stop the van.” Toff unbuckled his seat belt, his hand on the door handle.
“What are you doing?” Dad gaped at him, his glare replaced by panic.
“Stop the damn van!” Toff flung the door open. His dad swerved to the side of the road, slamming on the brakes, horns blaring behind them.
Toff jumped out and unleashed his fury. “It’s my life, Dad. My decision to go pro, not yours. If I screw up, it’s on me.” His breathing was ragged. “Don’t you want me out of the house anyway? So you and Rose can live happily ever after?”
Dad’s head jerked back like Toff had slapped him.
Fuck it. Toff spun around and sprinted off, the searing pain of his injury only fueling his anger.
“Toff! Get back here!”
Dad’s voice faded into the background as he ran…and ran…toward the welcoming cry of seagulls and crashing waves, ignoring the pain in his ribs.
And his heart.
…
Later that night, Toff was dozing on the couch, his video game paused on the TV, when a knock sounded on the front door, startling him awake.
He’d come home hours after flipping out on his dad. He’d hung out on the beach with his surfer posse, indulging in self-pity and too many beers. He’d had a couple of offers of another type of consolation, but he hadn’t been interested, especially when he thought about Amy’s soft lips. Soft everything. He hadn’t texted her, though. He didn’t want to see her with a mood on.
“Just a minute!” Toff yelled, blinking away his sleepy haze.
Dad wasn’t home. He’d texted Toff that he was at Rose’s and to call him when he got home, but Toff hadn’t. He felt sort of stupid about jumping out of the van. Okay, really stupid.
Maybe he should add a new hashtag to his and Amy’s posts: #FlipperFlipsOut.
“Don’t get up!” a familiar gruff voice called out. “I’ll let myself in.”
Coach Diggs. Damn. He was so busted. Toff sat up quickly, wincing as he swung his legs around to the floor. His ribs still ached from the run, but at least he’d pounded out the anger.
“Uh-huh,” Coach said, leaning against the living room doorframe. “That’s what I thought.” He scowled as he crossed the room, pausing to switch on a lamp. “Stand up. Let me check you out.”
Toff did as he was told, feeling like a kid caught cheating on a test. Coach huffed as he lifted Toff’s T-shirt and examined his midsection, poking and prodding as much as Dr. Brooks had. Toff tried his best not to react or show pain.
Coach glanced up from under his bushy gray eyebrows. “You know you’re supposed to call me immediately if you injure yourself.” He grunted. “Good thing Dr. Brooks let me know. And your dad.” He stepped back and glared at Toff, his dark-brown eyes turning almost black. “I just got back from vacation last night or I’d have busted your ass the day this happened.”
Of course Dad had ratted him out.
“You need to do what Doc says.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “And what I say. Stay out of the water. Don’t ignore pain.” He ran a hand across his stubbled chin. “Basically, don’t be a dumb-ass.”
Toff sighed heavily. Coach Diggs had been his mentor since he was seven years old. He’d been tough on him but also fair. He’d pushed Toff harder than he pushed anyone else, and Toff had risen to every challenge.
“You’re not messing this up, Nichols. You’re the best damn surfer I’ve seen in years. You need to stay on target if you want to go pro after your senior year.”
Toff blinked, unsure he’d heard right.
Coach had pushed hard for that, but Dad had shut it down. Where was this coming from?
Coach tilted his head toward the sliding door. “Go outside and sit. I’m grabbing myself a beer. You want anything?”
“Gatorade.”
“You got it.” Coach grabbed the remote from the footstool and turned off the TV. “These games rot your brain from the inside out.”
Toff rolled his eyes as he headed for the deck. The man was as predictable as the tide. A few minutes later, Coach plopped down next to Toff and handed him his drink. The full moon reflected off the sliver of ocean visible from the deck.
“We both know your dad wants the best for you,” Coach said. “Which in his mind is a college education.”
Toff’s shoulders tensed. “Can we not talk—”
“But he also wants you to be happy.” Coach barreled right over him like a Banzai Pipeline wave. “And it’s not like your dad didn’t have a hell of a good time when he was on the circuit.” He took a swig of beer, then leaned back in the deck chair, looking up at the stars.
What the…? Why was Coach…?
“Wait a minute.” Toff tugged at his hair as the puzzle pieces slid into place. “Did Dad send you over here?”
Coach shrugged, taking another pull from his beer bottle.
Son of a…
“Are you telling me Dad’s suddenly cool with me going pro?” He didn’t believe that. Not after the way he’d smacked him down about the doctor visit.
“I’m saying you oughta have a civilized conversation about it.” Coach side-eyed him. “You and your dad have always been tight. More like brothers.”
“Not lately,” Toff said. “He’s riding my ass all the time.” He missed his chill dad. The guy he laughed with, surfed with.
“Lots of changes ahead,” Coach bit out. “Your dad getting married. You graduating, figuring out what’s next.” He took another swig of beer. “You scared the hell out of him with that wipeout. Parent’s worst nightmare, getting called to the ER.”
Toff glugged his Gatorade, wishing it was a beer. “Didn’t know you were a therapist, too.”
Coach side-eyed him again, and Toff laughed.
“Will you give me your word you won’t do anything stupid until Doc clears you to surf?” Coach asked, appraising Toff through narrowed eyes.
“Can’t do that. You know me. I do stupid at least once a week.”
“I’m talking surfing stupidity. The other stuff is out of my jurisdiction.”
“Aw, Coach. I love you, too.” Toff grinned and tilted back in his chair, closing his eyes and inhaling the briny scent of the ocean floating on the night breeze.
“Christopher Nichols, I know God gave you a brain. For once in your life, use it.”
Coach wasn’t kidding around. He looked genuinely worried. Toff huffed out a frustrated sigh as he faced the guy who’d been like an uncle to him for the past ten years.
“Fine.”
Relief flitted across Coach’s features. “Fair enough,” he muttered. They sat in silence, staring out at the moonlit sliver of ocean that called to Toff like a lighthouse beacon in the darkness.
“Maybe your dad can keep you busy in the workshop,” Coach said, breaking the silence.
Toff nodded. “Yeah, maybe, but I don’t want to take away paid hours from Slammer. He needs the cash.” Toff shifted in his chair and cleared his throat as Amy’s red curls and flashing eyes came to mind. “I’ve got some other stuff to do that’ll keep me busy.”
“Do I want to know?”
Toff grinned. “Probably not.”
Coach squinted. “Just remember what I tell you idiots every year: Don’t make a life; don’t take a life.”
Toff laughed. He and the other incoming seniors on the surf team were going to get Coach’s infamous slogan printed on T-shirts and wear them at graduation. “Not planning to do either.”
“Good,” Coach replied. “Just get through these next couple of weeks, and then your life can go back to normal.”
“Trust me,” Toff said, a deep sigh gusting out of him, “back to normal is what I want.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
“I didn’t love this one, sweetie. What else have you got for me?”
Amy smiled as the elderly Mrs. Sloane handed over a sci-fi romance to trade in for bookstore credit. She was a regular customer at Murder by the Sea and an active participant in the Lonely Hearts Book Club. She also loved books with lots of those scenes, the same ones Toff liked.
“What are you in the mood for?” Amy asked. “Cowboys? Billionaires? Scots in kilts?”
She knew exactly what, or who, she was in the mood for, but she hadn’t heard from him since yesterday. She hoped his doctor appointment went okay. He’d probably spent all afternoon surfing and forgotten he’d said he’d text her.
Mrs. Sloane tapped her chin, studying Amy through her thick glasses. “I still need to read our book club choice. How about that one, and maybe a football player?” She patted her silver hair and cleared her throat. “None of those men who shift into grizzly bears or panthers. That doesn’t do anything for me.”
Amy nodded, trying to keep a straight face. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
After Mrs. Sloane was settled, Amy disappeared into the romance aisle. She grabbed the gothic for book club and perused the shelves for a good football hero, deciding on a popular series about a Chicago NFL team, an oldie but a goodie.
The bell on the door jingled. Returning to the front of the store, she put on her best “Welcome to the best bookstore ever” smile and came face-to-face with Toff and a couple of tourists.
“Welcome to Murder by the Sea,” she said to the tourists. “Please make yourselves at home and look around.”
“I’ll be with you in a moment, sir,” she said to Toff. “I’m with another customer right now.”
Toff raised his eyebrows and sent her a delicious smirk. No. Not delicious. She could not let her mind go down that dangerous train of thought, even though the rest of her was totally on board for a train ride with Toff.
She handed the books to Mrs. Sloane, whose eyes lit up as she checked out the covers.
“These look wonderful.” She leaned over and snuck a peek at Toff, who was repeatedly tossing a hacky sack up in the air and catching it. “That young man is very”—she lowered her voice and stage-whispered—“cover-worthy.”
Amy blushed. “Cover-worthy” was a secret code used by the book club members to describe real-life people who were kissable. And, uh, beyond. Which he definitely was.
Mrs. Sloane put the books in her tote bag and stood up slowly, leaning on her cane, Amy helping her.
“You have enough credit for all of these,” Amy said as they walked toward the door. “I’ll update the system.”
Toff rushed over, surprising Amy by extending his arm for Mrs. Sloane. “I’ll walk you out,” he said. He smiled at Amy. “You can go help the other customers. One of them’s in your favorite section.”
“Thank you, young man.” Mrs. Sloane paused in the doorway to examine him. “My. You are handsome, aren’t you?” She tilted her head. “You could do with a haircut, but I suppose girls like all that messy hair, don’t they, Amy?”
Amy did her best not to look at Toff, but from the corner of her eye, she saw him toss his head like a horse tossing its mane. She bit back a laugh.
“Amy, dear, introduce me to your young man.”
“Oh, um, sorry. Mrs. Sloane, this is Toff Nichols.” And he’s not mine.
“What kind of name is that?” Mrs. Sloane asked. “Isn’t that used in historical novels? A toff is a dandy, isn’t it? A pretty boy.” She smiled up at him. “I suppose it fits.”
Toff gaped at Amy, who laughed out loud. “I’ll explain later.” She smiled at Mrs. Sloane. “In this case, it’s short for Christopher.”
“Ah, much better.” She patted Toff’s arm and smiled at Amy, eyes twinkling behind her glasses. “You behave yourself with this young man. If you can.”
Gah. Mrs. Sloane was the biggest troublemaker in the Lonely Hearts, hands down. “Bye,” Amy said. “I’ll see you at book club.”
Toff escorted Mrs. Sloane to the senior center’s minibus, smiling and leaning down to listen to her as they slowly made their way across the parking lot.
Nice to little old ladies. Her heart squeezed as she watched him help Mrs. Sloane onto the bus. Fortunately, the other customers had a stack of books to ring up to refocus her attention.
When Toff returned, he flopped into a chair and waited, scrolling through his phone and drinking a smoothie. He had an addiction. Maybe he needed Smoothies Anonymous.
After the customers left, she approached him slowly, like he was a hungry predator and she was dinner.
“How was your doctor’s appointment?”
He shot her a guilty look. “Sorry I didn’t text yesterday.” He shrugged. “It sucked. I can’t surf for another two weeks. I’ll probably miss the Spectacular.”
“Oh no. That’s awful.” She sat down across from him.
“Yeah.” He propped an ankle on his thigh, leg bouncing. This must be what bottled-up surfer energy looked like. He exhaled roughly, then forced a smile. “But the good news is I was asked on a date.”
Amy blinked, her stomach twisting. “You were?”
“Yep. With Mrs. Sloane.”
She laughed, ridiculously relieved. “She moves fast.”
“Can you blame her?” He winked. “Jealous?”
“Why would I be jealous?” She leaned back in her chair, doing her best to look like she had no interest in him at all.
Toff grinned like he saw right through her. “I’m glad you’re so open-minded, Ames, and willing to share me with other women.”
“I— What?”
He stretched out his legs and cupped the back of his head with his hands. “You should keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t put the moves on your coach.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
The Bookworm Crush Page 21