Gunnen
(Dutch)
To find happiness in someone else's happiness because that's how much you love them.
"You sure you wanna do this?" Kacey asks, eyeing me with quizzical amusement as he rises from his spot next to me. "I've been pretty consistent with my running."
I grunt because I have not.
"I didn't think you'd join me when I texted," he goes on, jumping up a few times to warm up and stretching his quads.
I lift my upper body from where I'm crouching and tying my shoelaces and give him a look. "I can keep up, don't you worry, hot shot," I gloat, knowing full well that I probably cannot keep up with him. He's fitter, in much better shape than I am, and I haven't been running like I planned to when I travelled to Australia. I've been busy eating Rathi's savory Indonesian cooking and following Riley around. In fact, not only have I neglected working out, no, I've gained a few pounds. My stomach feels softer than it used to, my abs disappearing under a layer of softness. My arms are less defined. Next to my athletic girlfriend who balances on a surfboard almost every day I must look like a freaking couch potato.
Shit. I need to find a gym after I move to Down Under.
Kacey snorts, watching me as I self-consciously suck in my gut when I stand. "What?"
"Nothing." He lifts his hands in innocence and turns around, strutting away toward the starting point he chose by the Marine Park Nature Trail close to our parents' house.
Huffing out a breath I follow him, tying my hair back with one of Riley's hair ties as I go. I don't know what convinced me that going for a run at eight in the morning was a good idea.
"Ready?"
"Born ready."
With that Kacey sends me a smirk over his shoulder and takes off, falling into a trot that should be easy enough to keep up with.
~~~
I can't keep up with him. Fuck. I can't.
Being in much better shape than I am, he's outrunning me, not even breaking a sweat while my long-sleeved shirt sticks to my damp body and I'm huffing and puffing like an eighty-year-old man, about ready to put my feet up and pass out.
I avoid tripping over a cobble in my way and falter, catching my step with a flail of my arms. Kacey grins, coughs, and grins some more, his short dirty blond hair bobbing with every smooth and casual step he takes as he keeps pace with me.
Asshole.
We've only covered about two miles and have about three more to go. I'm determined to at least manage two more miles before allowing myself to slow down. So, I level my breathing and steer my mind toward the woman I left tangled in the sheets earlier. She was wise, telling me while half-asleep that she's not running on vacation. Clever girl. Brave too because she texted me that she got dressed and went to my parents' place to have breakfast with my mother.
It's been five days in New York. Five blissful days. We strolled along the tourist spots, discovered a few hidden spots, and had dinner at my parents' every night before concluding the day with messy but the hottest sex of my life. The wanton images of Riley under me, on top of me, or bent over make my body vibrate with heat.
Maybe that's why I'm out of breath already. I spent my energy elsewhere.
Grinning like an idiot to myself, I pick up speed and catch up with my brother who's been a couple steps ahead of me. His brows rise as a single drop of sweat slides down his forehead. I know I'm not going to be able to keep this pace up for long. So, I do the only thing every shitty, competitive brother would do – I push him into the grass and take off.
~~~
We're both panting when we finally get back to the starting point. Me more than him though.
"When's your flight?" Kacey asks, straightening from his hunched forward position.
"Tomorrow."
"You're lucky there's no blizzard," he tells me. "We had a bad one over Christmas."
I nod, not able to speak yet without losing my left lung.
He on the other hand doesn't sound too affected. "You know when you'll be back?"
"Not yet."
"We'll miss you, baby brother," he teases.
"Ugh." I shove him playfully. "I won't miss you."
"Oh, you will," he laughs and wipes a hand over his face. "You told Mom about moving yet?"
I grimace and shake my head. I told him and Lauren about my move the other day and they both didn't even blink, acting as if they'd always known I wouldn't stay. They knew I was going to leave again. I love my family, I do, but I've always been a vagabond. Felt the need to go about and explore. While my ex-bandmates bought condos and houses with more bedrooms than needed on either side of the coasts, I continued to live in hotels and hang out in bars. And even though I now feel the need to settle down a notch, there's still so much to explore and experience.
"I told Dad," I admit. And he squeezed my shoulder so hard it felt dislocated after. "But Mom..." I trail off. Mom is clingy and protective, especially of me – her youngest. And I know she wouldn't take it well.
Kacey nods in understanding. But still, I feel like a coward. I need to tell her that when I set foot on that plane come tomorrow evening, I will be gone for longer than a few weeks. It doesn't mean I won't visit regularly, but I know that the sheer knowledge of her youngest gallivanting about in Down Under will make her queasy.
I take a breath, puff my chest out as if that will give me courage. "I'll tell her tonight."
"About time," my brother mutters, earning another shove from my end.
~~~
When we approach the house I grew up in, my sweat has mostly dried, but I can already feel the slight burn in my quads and calves.
Kacey produces a key and lets us into the foyer. From the family room we hear Noah's squeals and excited gasps and we make our way into the house, leaving our muddy running shoes by the door. In front of the gleaming TV and flanked by Riley and our Mom sits Noah with his feet dangling off the sofa, practically vibrating on the spot and jumping every so often when noises come through the speakers. He's so focused he doesn't even notice us coming in. Next to him Riley has crossed her legs under herself, grinning contently while Mom's face is tight and her eyes are big.
"Hi! Good morning," Kacey announces our presence, and three faces turn to us. Noah beams and hops off the sofa, sailing into Kacey's arms. "What are you doing here?" Kacey asks him.
"Lu took me." He points to the kitchen where Luca emerges with a cup of coffee in hand and a sweet smile on her lips.
"Ah." Kace blows Noah a raspberry and sets him down again.
"We're watching Riley surf," Noah tells us with beaming excitement rolling over his face as he looks back and forth between my brother and me. My girl's name comes out more like "Liley". "She's soooo good." His arms swing as if he wants to measure the level of Riley's prowess.
"Oh, I know," I murmur, smiling and raising a brow at her.
The woman in question flushes but flashes me with a sneaky smile. "I needed to prove that I don't always fall off my board."
"Oh yeah?" I laugh, walking further into the room and bending at the waist to kiss her hello before dropping to a spot next to her.
"Mmmh," she hums. "Maybe I wanted to show off too. This is where I stood my first Alley Oop."
Having no idea what an Alley Oop is, I shake my head with a grin and take a look at the paused video where Riley hovers on her bright blue board, her brown hair, the tips bleached from the sun, flying in the wind behind her. She's wearing a black bikini that puts all the tattoos she had at the time on display. However, she isn't wearing a jersey or number. Nothing that indicates that this was at a competition. I also notice that a big tattoo is missing; the huge palm tree with Samir's name is missing.
This isn't a YouTube video or something official from the Surf League.
This is an old video. And a private one.
My assumption solidifies when the video resumes and the camera keeps bobbing and shaking. "I did it!" she whoops. Her squeal of joy and her smile are directed at something behind the camera.
Someone.
"That was awesome, Blue!" a male voice, Samir's, praises while Riley – on TV – hops off her board before the video cuts off.
Riley's lips are curled up slightly, but she keeps her eyes averted and her face down while clicking her phone off. Next to us, I hear the drowned-out voices of my clueless family talking, but my focus is solely on Riley. I see her throat work through a swallow and how her chest fights through her next breath.
Is she okay? Is she going to be fine after hearing Samir's voice? Did she know it was coming or was that unexpected?
She doesn't give anything away though. Stays strong and composed until she blinks rapidly a few times. At that her hand goes up, wiping under her eye before a tear can escape. "Excuse me," she croaks, standing and clearing her throat, hightailing it to the hall.
Standing myself and giving everyone an excusing look, I follow her. She hasn't gotten far, only rounded the corner where she's slumped her back against the wall. Not slowing my stride, I grab her wrist and pull her with me up the stairs and into my childhood room where I wrap my arms around her wordlessly, prop my chin on top of her head and close my eyes. I think I squeeze her a little too hard, but I don't seem able to let go. Not before I know she's okay.
I can feel her heart beating against my stomach – rapidly at first but slowing soon. She shudders slightly, then takes a shaky inhale. "Your mom was surprised about all my tattoos," she murmurs against my chest after a couple minutes.
It's so random, I chuckle at her words, revelling as her hands find their way around me, her palms pressing against my back. "Are you okay?" I ask, my lips moving against the top of her head.
"Yeah." She pulls back, peering up at me through glassy eyes.
"But you're crying," I point out, so very helpful and catch a fresh tear with my thumb, wiping it off her freckled cheek.
"I got caught off guard." She swallows. "But I promise, I'm fine, Mason. I just didn't remember Samir was in the video. It surprised me and I just needed a moment."
"Honey..." I begin, trailing off because I don't know what to say.
She narrows her eyes at me, pleading. "I will cry more if you don't stop coddling me." I want to protest but Riley beats me to it when she continues, "I know you just want to comfort me and I'm thankful for that, believe me I am, but sometimes I just need two minutes. There's nothing else you can do. It will always be there. But I'm all right, baby. Trust me."
I wait, closing my eyes. I hate feeling this helpless. But I know that she's right. I just hate seeing her hurt. Taking a deep breath and sucking in her comforting scent, I realize... "Did you just call me baby?" I laugh despite the urge to argue that she doesn't need to be strong.
"It slipped out." She blushes, all cute and astute.
"Uh-huh," I chuckle, lunging at her.
Riley gasps when I bury my face in the crook of her neck. "Ew, Mason, you're all sweaty."
"You love it."
She tries to fight me off when I nuzzle her and laughing I let her go, pulling back just enough to watch her take in the space we're in. Her eyes travel over the dark wood bed frame – which is the only dark thing in the otherwise all off-white room – to the plush beige pillows and soft white linen that are so not my style. The entire room isn't my style, but Mom had it remodeled a couple years ago and moved all my stuff into the garage to use my old room as a guest room.
"Huh," Riley makes.
"What?"
"Is this your room?"
"It was." I shrug, realizing how my shirt is molded to my skin. It's an icky feeling.
"Now I get why you want to move in with me." Her cheeks plump with a grin when she turns back to me, tilting her pretty face up to study my face.
"What?" I ask again.
Riley chuckles. "Your parents kicked you out."
My jaw drops and I blink. When I go to come back with a witty response, nothing comes out. I just move my lips like a fish. She has rendered me speechless.
Her hands fly up to cover her mouth. "Too much?" she asks wryly from behind them.
I clutch my sternum in mock-hurt and smirk. "My ego might be a little bruised. I might need you to kiss it better."
"Gladly." Riley cups my cheeks, meeting my eyes. "Mason, I can't wait to live with you. My place is your place. We can get a second dresser and bedside table. We could get more towels. We can hang your guitars on the wall in the living room. We can, I don't know, get-"
I cut her rambling off by crashing my lips to her mouth. She stiffens with surprise but melts into me immediately. I let my tongue slide over her bottom lip but pull back before she can respond with a lick of her own. Grinning, I nip at her mouth again. "The guitars on the wall sound perfect," I say lowly, my mouth grazing hers while speaking before tucking her into me again so she doesn't see the emotion working over my face, welling up in my eyes.
We hadn't really agreed on me moving in after we'd been cut off the other day. There's just been that unspoken agreement that I'd come back to Australia with her. And it was enough. I didn't even care where I'd stay. If it'd been too early for Riley, I'd just found a place of my own. But now, I feel myself shuddering with the relief that falls off my shoulders like a boulder.
"Mason?"
"Yeah?"
"You're sticky."
Laughter rumbles in my chest, when I give her a last, lasting, and obnoxiously loud peck before I release her and haul my ass to the bathroom to shower before joining everyone downstairs again. It's a communion. Dad, Lauren, Eddie and Charlotte join in the afternoon, and my family makes a good effort in trying to humiliate me by showing Riley pictures of me during various stages of growing up.
Joke's on them because I never had an ugly stage. I've always looked good – even at thirteen with braces and an awkward haircut. Thank God, Riley can't hear my croaky voice at the time.
Riley's laughing the entire day, glowing with content. Since most of my family already knows, she even talks about Samir a few times. And she smiles doing it. I see the twinge of pain behind her eyes but assure her by grabbing her hand, that I'm with her every step of the way.
I know I'll always have to share my place in her heart with the ghost of Samir, but my feelings have shifted from jealousy to deep admiration. I love Riley with everything I have. She's who she is with all her past and I wouldn't want to miss a thing. I'm so thankful for everything she's able to give me, that she trusts me and wants me. I'll do everything to keep her and make her happy.
I know leaving my family behind again will be hard. But I can't wait. I can't wait to board the plane tomorrow with the love of my life to start our life together in the small town I first hated and now love. I even look forward to being stuck in a metal tube for more than twenty-six hours and watching movies on a tiny screen with awful quality because it means I get to go home with her.
I'm ready to settle down after all.