The Summer Deal (Wildstone #5)(55)

Chapter 18


From sixteen-year-old Kinsey’s summer camp journal:

Dear Journal,

I’m in the hospital again, an infection this time. A shrink came to talk to me. He told me I needed to write down my feelings. I guess people are worried, but whatever, I told him I don’t care.

He said I should care, but that until I could care for myself, others would for me. He said I should consider the journal my homework. I hate homework.

But here goes nothing. One week after I had the surgery last year, the kid who gave me his kidney . . .

Died.

Because of me.

It was an infection from the surgery. Rare, they said, but whatever. He’s gone and it’s my fault. He wouldn’t be dead if he hadn’t donated a kidney.

And that’s not even the worst part. My body is rejecting his kidney. So I now officially hate my body more than I hate you. How’s that for irony, dear journal?

I caught Eli searching for black-market kidneys on the internet and I made him SWEAR to me he’d stop. I refuse to take another kidney from another breathing soul. Which I get only leaves me one option, an option I don’t wanna think about.

Whatever.

Kinsey

IT WAS SATURDAY, Kinsey’s favorite day of the week. She had her eyes closed, her face tilted upward to the sun as she inhaled the salty sea air, smiling as a few drops of ocean hit her skin. Sitting with her legs crossed, she raised her arms out at her sides and tilted her face back. “This is better than sex.”

“I’m going to make you take that back later,” Deck said from behind her, where he stood manning the paddleboard that she was sitting on like a queen.

“And I’ll enjoy you trying to make me take that back.”

His bark of laughter had a smile crossing her face, and she was glad he couldn’t see her. Deck didn’t have a confidence problem. No sense in giving his ego even more room in that sexy brain of his.

“Faster,” she said.

“Yep, you’re going to say that later too.”

She grinned and opened her eyes to take in the glorious sight of nothing but azure-blue Pacific Ocean in front of her. They’d left land behind, and also, it seemed, the entire world.

She loved paddleboarding. She loved the minimalism of it. There was no gear required other than the paddle. Just her and the board—and the sexy guy behind her. There was something about being out here, no set plan, surrounded by nothing but water as far as the eye could see, that thrilled and exhilarated her. Maybe it was because her life was always so structured, and completely orbited around her treatments and dialysis, that made this so incredibly freeing.

She didn’t do meditation. She didn’t have a Zen bone in her body. But being on the water with the gentle sway of the swells beneath them and the light spray of saltwater hitting her body and the warm sun on her face was . . . life changing. This was her church.

She had a bucket list, comprised of things she couldn’t do. Walking the Great Wall of China. Skydiving. Running a marathon.

Okay, so running a marathon wasn’t really on her list. Even if she could run without feeling like complete shit, she wouldn’t want to. But maybe that’s why she had it on there. Because, dammit, she wanted to be able to pick her own limitations and not have them decided for her.

“I want to paddle,” she said. “I want to stand up and paddle.”

“Okay.”

That simple. It always was with Deck. He didn’t buy into her living her life around her disability. Unlike everyone else, who’d wrap her up in bubble wrap if they could, Deck expected her to live her life exactly how she wanted to, on her terms. If she felt like she could stand up, keep her balance, and use the paddle, he was going to support her doing that. Because he thought of her as an adult capable of making her own decisions.

She could love him for that alone.

If she believed she could love at all.

Or be loved . . .

But not even Deck could ignore the very real fact that she had an expiration date. Which meant that no matter how much she might be tempted, she couldn’t allow him to fall for her.

The problem was, she’d forgotten to remind herself not to fall for him. But loving him was her own private burden, and she wasn’t sorry about it. She was just sorry she couldn’t say it. Holding those three words back had only gotten more and more difficult as time went on.

She struggled from her seated position onto her knees. Sitting on the paddleboard while having a big, strong guy stand behind you and do all the work of paddling was one thing. It was another entirely to stand up, hold her balance, and not knock them both into the water.

When she finally rose a bit unsteadily to her feet, Deck immediately wrapped an arm around her waist to anchor her. Grateful, she backed up a few inches so that her back was plastered to his front. He ran warm anyway, but all that skin and sinew was deliciously heated from the sun. Seeing as he wore only a pair of black board shorts, slung low on his hips, there was a lot to rub up against. “Mmm,” she murmured.

With a low laugh, he lifted the long paddle over her head and held it out in front of her. The minute she took it, his hands went to her hips. One palm slid to her belly.

“Kins.”

“Hmm?”

His mouth was at her ear. “You gotta put the paddle in the water, babe, or that swell is going to take us down.”