Page 14 of Punked By the Playmaker
Scanning the area for someone else his age, I asked, “You come here with a friend?”
“Nah.” Damp strands of shaggy hair whipped across his face as he shook his head. “I hitchhiked.”
My eyebrows hit my hairline.
Damn, okay. Not sure I’d have ever had the balls to get in the car with a stranger, but I could applaud his determination to do whatever it took to get out on the waves.
Blue eyes that seemed vaguely familiar narrowed in my direction as he gauged my reaction. “You got a problem with that?”
I held up both hands, palms facing outward. “Hey, man. I’m not your parent.”
Face tilted toward the sun, Austin scoffed. “Fucking parents.”
My chuckle couldn’t be contained. Teenage angst was a lot more amusing when you were watching from the outside.
“I come out here to quiet my thoughts. What about you?”
The teen scooped up a handful of water, letting it slide through his fingers. “Makes me feel alive, ya know?”
Yeah, I sure did.
“Ah, so you’re an adrenaline junkie,” I teased, hoping to draw him out of his shell.
His head tilted from side to side. “Maybe.” There was a pause before he added, “Life is too damn short. You gotta make the most of it while you’ve got the chance.”
While I couldn’t argue—fully aware that I was one bad hit away from my career ending every time I stepped onto the ice—I wondered what this kid had been through to come to that realization at such a young age.
Done talking, Austin jerked his chin toward deeper water where the rise of a wave was forming. “I’m gonna take this next one if that’s okay.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
I watched as he turned his board so that he was facing the beach in the distance before lying on his belly and paddling. He waited until he caught momentum, then hopped onto his feet with practiced ease, his balance perfect as he dropped into the wave.
Impressed, I let out a hum. He exhibited a level of agility that couldn’t be taught; it was inherent. The kid was a natural.
Austin swam back to where I floated, and we took turns when rideable waves came our way. Neither of us felt the need to fill the silence in between, content to share a moment of tranquility without words.
A shrill sound reached my ears, and I glanced upward, expecting to find a flock of seagulls overhead. Prepared to duckand cover from an onslaught of their so-called “lucky” presents, I was surprised to find the sky clear above me.
There was a hiss from the teen at my side. “Shit. I gotta go.”
I lowered my gaze to find him headed toward the shore, where a woman stood screaming and waving one arm frantically.
Without conscious thought of the repercussions of inserting myself into someone else’s domestic situation, I swam after Austin, hoping that I might be able to reason with who I could only assume was his mother. While I could agree that hitchhiking was dangerous as hell, maybe if they understood how much he needed this release, they might be willing to go lighter on whatever punishment they were ready to hand down.
By the time I caught up with the kid, we were close enough to the beach that I could get a good look at the screeching banshee standing on the sand. A spark of recognition hit me, and I sucked in a sharp breath.
There, in wide-leg trousers and a sleeveless blouse with a pair of heels dangling from her fingertips, was the woman I’d come out here to forget.
With my windpipe closing up, my voice came out strangled. “Is that your mom?”
I wasn’t often discerning with the women I took to my bed, but single moms were where I drew the line. Kids were cool—Austin in particular—but I wasn’t looking to become anyone’s new daddy.
No thanks, not for me. I planned to stay childfree for life and was happy as hell with that decision.
“Sister,” Austin corrected on a grumble.
Relief slammed into my chest, and I remembered how to breathe, my lungs expanding on a much-needed inhale.
