by Teagan Kade
The future. God, what does it even mean now?
The place has been swarming with cops and detectives ever since, some for protection, others looking into the shootout. When Deacon told me about the guy who’d been watching me, I almost threw up. They caught him an hour out of Hobart, connected him to another rape since he skipped parole. Funnily enough, he had nothing to do with the brothers.
Bo’s been in good spirits considering. There’s an extra guard on him as well. The US office didn’t want any chances being taken and assured all of the brothers proper witness protection. Not that Deacon trusts them or plans on going through with it. He doesn’t seem to trust anyone but his brothers and I these days.
*
“Nervous about flying out tomorrow?” I shout.
The super low has arrived. Massive, pounding surf has been smashing the coast line since yesterday and turning Shipstern Bluff on in full.
I stand with Deacon on the beach watching the maelstrom, the wind nothing compared to the cold.
I look up at the cliff line, the ridge above the scrub. People are gathered. Some with cameras and tripods, others rugged up against the wind that sweeps out from the land. “Guess it won’t be a secret spot for much longer, huh?”
A light rain whips across Deacon’s face. “It had to happen eventually. Everything beautiful has to come to an end.”
I take his hand and squeeze. “Not us. Not ever.”
He draws his board out of the sand. “You ready for this?”
I look out to the break. It’s big alright, massive waves building on the horizon against a charcoal sky. I think of Dad. “I am.”
Razor pulls up beside me. I’ve never seen him so excited.
“Fucking pity Bo couldn’t be here,” he says. He hoists up his board underarm. “It’s fucking big, boys and girls. First to wipe out’s buying beers.”
I punch him in the shoulder. “Guess you’ll be doing the buying then.”
I run towards the water, my legs scissoring below me. I’m nervous, yes, but I’ve trained for this. I’m ten times stronger now than when I arrived in Finke. It’s given me strength, but so much more. I have Deacon. I have a family. Okay, a very twisted, testosterone-slanted family, but it works and I sure don’t want to be anywhere else. I wouldn’t give it up for the world, danger or not.
I hit the water and paddle, Deacon right beside me smiling as the rain grows heavier, the ocean pockmarked around us and a strong offshore pushing the face of the incoming waves up into liquid walls. I duck-dive and push through, pressing on towards the reef.
I look up to the people on the cliff line. They want a show. They’re going to get one.
When we arrive out the back, the size of the swell becomes clear. This is life and death stuff. My core clenches, but I push it away. Fear is a choice.
I count the sets, wait, and there it is, growing and morphing.
Deacon reaches through the water and takes my hand. “It’s yours, baby. We’re right here.”
I breathe out. “Okay.”
I turn and start paddling. Waves this big you can barely paddle into, but I manage it, directing my board downwards right as the monster begins to crest over and the point of no return is lost. I either commit or I go down.
I press up, stand, and brace for the drop.
As soon as I’m on my feet, two things become apparent. One, this wave is fucking massive, and two, it’s not going to let me take it easily.
In true Shipstern form, the center of the wave buckles and shifts, splitting into liquid steps. There’s so much water being sucked up the face I can see the reef exposed below.
Holy shit.
There’s no time for thinking. I simply have to react. I brace my feet and take the first step. My feet leave the board completely before they crash into it and I head over, coming right to the bottom of the beast. With a curtain of water overhead, I tuck, grab the edge of my board and cut low. The tube expands and narrows until all that’s left is a tiny window of hope and daylight.
Come on.
Come on.
The wave starts to unravel, breaking up around me.
Come on.
It starts to distort and change, the water playing tricks, but this time I’m prepared. The backwash hits and catapults me from the barrel with a phsst, the spray washing over my back as I’m ejected over the back of the wave. Water crashes onto my board and I paddle for the line with everything I’ve got before the next wave bears down on me.
Deacon’s shaking his head when I arrive.
I hear cheering, look up at the cliff line to see people hollering and shouting.
Razor turns his board to face me. “You sure you haven’t got a set of balls between your legs, Hollywood because fucking hell. That was some ride.”
Deacon draws me to him, presses his lips hard against mine, hand against the back of my neck and the ocean roaring around us, the solid mass of it shifting and calling as the rain whips and belts us.
We break away, foreheads together, the wet curtain of my hair allowing us privacy for now.
I cry, not from sadness or fear but from the realization I’ve done it, of how proud Dad would be. Would he approve of Deacon? I laugh inside. Not at first, but I have a feeling he’d grow on him.
I look out, see the next wave coming. I point. “So, you boys going to let a Californian girl like me steal all your thunder?”
Razor turns and starts to paddle. “Fuck no, princess.”
Deacon and I watch him vanish into the barrel.
I look up at the crowds. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?”
“What’s that?”
“Our secret spot soon to be the home of the next big-wave contest.”
Deacon’s smiling.
“What? What is it?”
“I’d tell you that nothing good lasts forever, but I’d be lying.”
I’m confused. “What do you mean?”
Razor goes kicking into the air, landing back onto his board and beginning to paddle back towards us amongst catcalls and whooping from the cliffs.
Deacon’s still smiling. “Maybe you should check that pocket on the side of your wetsuit there.”
I reach down to my hip. “This pocket? I don’t keep anything in it.”
His smile is growing. “You sure?”
What are you up to, Deacon Hunt? I sit up on my board and keep my eyes on him, unzipping the pocket and carefully fishing inside. My fingers close around something small and hard.
“Careful now,” he says.
With caution, I take the object out pinched between two fingers, holding it between us.
“Well?” he enthuses.
It’s a ring—silver with pearl inlays and a diamond that sparkles even in the drab, dismal light. “I love it.”
“I wasn’t asking about the ring.”
I play along, holding the ring between my fingers. “No?”
“So?” he continues.
“So,” I repeat, smiling.
For a moment he looks to the horizon before bringing his eyes back to mine. “You know, I never thought I’d need another ring, that anyone could replace her, but I was wrong.”
I place my hand over his. “Deacon, we can take it slow.”
He shakes his head. “No. I’m sick of hiding and I’m sick of denying my own happiness. I know with every bone of my being I want you as my wife, by my side until the end of time. Lux Louise Jackson, will you marry me?”
“You didn’t get down on one knee.”
He smiles back. “Drop-knee is for body boarders, and our children are going to surf standing up.”
“Our children?” I laugh. “Aren’t you getting a little ahead of yourself?”
“You don’t think we’d make the cutest kids in the world?”
“I don’t know, but I think we can have a lot of fun making them.”
I reach over and grab his crotch, his cock growing hard in my hand through his wetsuit. “Don’t you?”
“I
do,” he replies.
“Careful, I warn. I believe that’s my line.”
He takes hold of my shoulder and pulls himself across, the tip of our boards touching. “Like I said, I can’t promise you an easy life, perhaps not even a long one, but one thing I can guarantee is that I’ll never stop loving you. I want to be with you, forever, whatever it takes.”
I reach forward and embrace him, holding the ring over his shoulder while we kiss, my arms tight around his neck.
I can hear Razor applauding as he approaches. “They’re getting fucking married!” he shouts to those watching from above.
Good ol’ Razor.
Around us, I’m aware of break working, water pounding into the reef, the swell rising and falling around us, the energy of it all overwhelming.
I shove him away and point to the approaching set. “This one’s got your name on it. Go.”
Deacon turns. “Watch and learn, Hollywood.”
I laugh, placing the ring away and zipping up the pocket. “No problem. I could watch that cute little ass of yours all day long.”
EPILOGUE
LUX
I emerge from the campervan sweaty and flustered, a lingering smell of sex following.
Poised on the edge of the cliff, I look over the ocean, conditions ripe. “Mavericks,” I mutter, a tear rolling down my cheek as I think about Dad. I can’t believe I’m here again, but this time it’s not with sadness, but hope.
Deacon comes up behind me, hands around my waist, his cock still hard against the small of my back. “Where’s your wetsuit?”
I turn around and kiss him, pressing my tongue deep into his mouth before breaking away. “I’m not coming out today.”
He looks surprised, nodding down at the water. “Come on. It’s pumping out there, perfect conditions for Mavericks, and that’s saying something. This is once-in-a-lifetime stuff.”
I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard that before.” I reach into my pocket and take out a white, plastic stick with two vertical lines showing. “But you know what? So is this.”
He looks at it for a moment before he starts to register. “Holy shit. Is that…?”
I nod.
“Are we?”
I love the way he said ‘we,’ like we’re a team in this, a partnership. I nod again, the smile on my face growing because I want this more than anything, to bring a child into this world with his man.
He’s shaking his head, smiling, looking down at my belly like a baby will emerge from it at any moment. “Boy or girl?”
Men. “Now, now, it’s early days.”
“I can’t believe it.” He holds me away and spins me around until I beg him to stop.
“I’m a little queasy, sorry.”
He holds me straight. “Right, right.”
He looks around, shaking his head. “Holy fuck, I’m going to be a dad. We are going to be parents, our own little grommet… Razor! Bo!”
The two brothers emerge around the side of the camper with boards underarm.
“Baby, wait…” I’m telling him, but he’s too excited.
“I’m going to be a dad,” he announces. “Lux is pregnant.”
I roll my eyes. Cat’s out of the bag now.
They come over one by one, hugging me but not with the same gusto as normal, as if by becoming pregnant I’m suddenly to be handled like a Faberge egg.
Bo beams at me. His limp is all but gone, the remaining scar coming out whenever he gets a chance, especially around female company. “I’m going to be the most kick-ass uncle the world has ever seen. Uncle Bo.”
Razor shoves him. “Fuck that. It’s all about Uncle Razor, the cool uncle.”
Bo shoves him back. “No, man. I am the cool uncle.”
Deacon cuts between them. “Can you two asshats give it a break?”
He turns and stands on the edge of the cliff line, cupping his hands and bellowing into the distance “My wife is pregnant! I’m the happiest guy in the world!”
I’m shaking my head, other people who’ve come to watch the surf clap down the line, whooping like they did that fateful day at the Bluff.
Deacon reaches down and picks up his board. He looks exactly like he did the day we first met, the first time he brought me back to life. “We doing this?” he asks the others.
I place my hand on his chest. “You be careful out there now.” I look down at my belly, imagining the bump that will soon be there. “We want you back in one piece.”
He cups my cheek, liquid eyes glinting. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He shouts and hollers as he bounds away, the other two running after him, Bo winking as he passes me. I watch them head down to the water. The swell’s massive, but it’s clean. Deacon’s right. These are once-in-a-lifetime conditions just like Tasmania. The boys were famous after that, Bo’s run-in with the great white only added to the notoriety.
Back in the States, I expected more bikers to come, but they never did. The entire lot of them was wiped out when a rival club set off a fertilizer bomb at their annual convention. People said it was the cartels, but who knows? The money’s gone and they know it. If any of them did survive, they’ve got bigger trouble than a couple of surfers. Still, we’re ready for anything. We have to be, especially now with the Hunt family about to grow.
A guy walks over. He’s wearing board shorts and a plain white tee, head shaved. His eyes are bottle green, like Deacon’s. He stands next to me and watches the set roll in. He nods down to the three brothers making their way to the beach. “Your boy?”
“My boys,” I correct. “Sometimes I do feel like a bit of a mother to the three of them. I’m sorry, do I…”
He shakes his head, holding out his hand. “Sorry. Kelly.”
I shake it. “Lux.”
I look at him again. Holy shit. It could well be Kelly Slater, but I don’t want to embarrass the poor guy by asking.
“They’ve got real skills,” he continues. “I saw what they were doing over in Australia. Balls of steel.”
“Do you surf?” I question.
“A little,” he smiles. “They must keep you busy, no?”
I shake my head. “You have no idea.”
“You were out there too, yeah? Charging that wave, the Californian girl?”
I nod. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Kelly smiles with approval. “Some of the best surfing I’ve seen, and I’ve seen my fair share.”
I tilt my head down towards the water. “You’re not going out today?”
“We’ll see. I wouldn’t want to show your boys up, though.”
I laugh. “They love competition.”
“And what about you?” he asks.
My hands close around my belly. I’m still wrapping my head around the idea there’s a new life in there, a boy or girl about to shake up our entire world. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
Kelly smiles. “Fair enough. Nice to meet you, Lux.”
“You too.”
He drifts away and I look again. It has to be. The boys are going to be so psyched when I tell them.
I look to the sky. “What do you think, Dad? Not bad, huh.”
There’s no ray of sunlight, no parting of the clouds, but still I know he’d be proud of me, of us.
I watch the three boys paddling into the break and my heart swells. I’m not worried. I’m excited. There’s a new beginning coming and I’m running towards it with open arms.
*
There’s a gentle sea-breeze coming in from the balcony, gauzy curtains floating like apparitions inside.
I try to recover my breath as Deacon rises from the hot space between my legs.
“You okay?” he says, face a portrait of concern.
I place a hand over my chest, the other over my fast ballooning bump. “We’ll be fine.”
He rolls up and climbs up the bed beside me, draws my face towards him with a solitary finger under my chin. I thought the whole pregnancy thing might turn him off,
but he can’t seem to get enough of me lately, and I’m horny, like seriously, three-times-a-day horny. I guess it’s a good thing I chose a guy with stamina to spend my life with.
He kisses me, soft, a hint of my desire on his lips, the echoes of it continuing to ripple through my body.
He breaks away and slides down my side, places an ear to my belly. “You in there, little buddy?”
He gets a kick to the head for his trouble. “Damn, he’s a fighter, isn’t he?”
I roll my eyes. “There you go with the whole ‘he’ thing again.”
He prods my belly gently. “I’m telling you, I can feel it. The kid’s hung like a horse, just like his daddy.”
More eye-rolling, but I can’t stop smiling. It seems like the corners of my mouth are lifted twenty-four seven these days.
I push Deacon onto his back and, with a modicum of effort, manage to swing myself up and straddle him. I reach down and tug at his cock, lightly pull and stroke until it’s hard again. “Hung like a horse, you say?”
He moans. “That’s right.”
I lift myself up and press him into my folds, sinking down until I’ve swallowed him completely, his hands reaching to cup my breasts. “I suppose it is above average.”
He rolls a nipple between his thumb and forefinger, a snap of sensation running down to my clit. “I thought girls didn’t care about size?”
I smile down at him, place one hand above his heart to feel it beating firm and strong against it. “Only the size of this.”
“It’s beating for you, baby, for our family.”
Our family—It’s such a strange concept, but I couldn’t be happier. We’ve got a great place here in California. True, Razor and Bo are living next door—Deacon couldn’t bring himself to let them live any further away—but I don’t mind. They will make great uncles.
And as for Deacon? My love, my world. He was born to be a father. I know it with all my being. He’s even been working on a mini surfboard in the garage, can’t wait to get our little one into the water.
I pant and lift back up, dropping down to take him once more.
“God, I love you,” he pants.
“I love you,” I reply in turn, knowing with complete certainly that although the waves of change will continue to come, I’ve finally found my true direction.