seventy-eight

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Luke knocks on the doorframe of Casey's room, startling me in my spot on the floor. Surrounded by Casey's collection of sneakers, I scrunch my nose up at Luke.

"You sure you don't want any? They don't smell. I don't think he wore a pair more than twice," I glance around at the various shoes, many in white and black, but plenty in bright colors with splashy logos. Well, one pair he wore pretty regularly.

I pull gently at the leather strap tied around my wrist.

"Not the same size, unfortunately." Luke shrugged, a laugh rumbling from somewhere in his chest, "It used to bother Case, actually, that my feet were bigger. 'Cause you know what they say about big feet? That-"

"Luke." I hold up a hand, cutting him off immediately, "That's disgusting. I never want to hear about you and Casey discussing your shoe sizes ever again."

He laughs, throwing his arm around my neck once I'm upright and pulling me tightly against his chest. "Fine, fine. Are you ready to get going?"

"Close." I murmur, "Let me just bag all these up. Then I'll be good."

He nods, kissing my hair. "Take your time. I'll help June into the truck."

I watch him walk away, feeling warm gratitude for him yet again. Today he's taking Grams and me to her follow-up appointment with her doctor.

She's doing better, now that I help her to remember to take her medicine. Still, she's insistent that she'll convince the doctor she no longer needs the extra pills.

So Luke... Luke is my moral support for what is sure to be a very frustrating experience.

I let out a deep exhale.

Alone in Casey's room, I shake out a black garbage bag and get to my knees. Scooping up multiple pairs at once, I try not to think too much as they fall into the trash bag.

Reaching under the bed, I drag out the remaining pairs, my eyes finally catching on the worn, brown leather pair of high top sneakers that were Casey's all time favorite.

I pull out one, and then the second, dropping them not into the bag but my lap. The tongues flop about, the leather cord laces gone.

I twist the strap on my wrist to and fro, careful, always careful, not to pull too hard.

"You've got to stop crying Pickle." A younger Casey, about twelve, hugs me in my memory, his scent still exactly the same as I remember. "It's only a week. And then I'm coming back."

He and Luke were going to surfing camp. It was a boys only group, and even if it wasn't, I wasn't old enough for it yet. My little body trembled as I cried into Casey's shirt.

"Do you promise?"

"Of course I promise, Dylan." His laugh was easy. But he wasn't the one staying behind with Mom and Dad for the week while he and Luke had fun. "Hey," He pulled back, smiling down at me brightly. "I've got an idea."

I stepped back, sniffling, as he got to a knee, the same pair of leather, high top sneakers - I think the first time he ever bought a pair of them - on his feet, just in a smaller size. He undid the laces, pulling the leather cords free.

"Give me your hand." He looked at me expectantly.

I put my arm out and he wrapped the cord around my wrist. Once, twice, three times, because my bones were so tiny. Then, he tied the other around his own.

"As long as this stays put," He touched the strap on my skin, "It's like we're together, okay? So you don't have to be scared. Even when I'm at camp this week, I'll be with you."

I clutched my wrist, nodding frantically. "What if it breaks?" I hiccuped.

Casey laughed and shook his head, ruffling my hair in the obnoxiously tender way only a big brother can. "Well, Pickle, it's a good thing the mall sells plenty of pairs. If it breaks, we'll go get new ones, okay?"

"Okay."

Another strap - we'd gone through several over the years - thin and frayed, barely hangs around my wrist now. My finger traces it subconsciously, my very own security blanket, my eyes burning holes into the soles of the leather sneakers.

Casey got a new pair each year, whether the soles were worn out or not. Because our bracelets usually were.

The bracelets would break, he'd get a new pair, take the laces from his old ones and tie them around our wrists, smiling at me cheekily, still so young and bright.

"Like we're together, right, Dyl?"

"Like we're together," I'd agree, "Always."

These are the last pair. This strap is the last lace.

Casey's was buried with him, and I've cherished mine ever since. It's hardly hanging on anymore, the centermost bits still trying, despite the tattered edges.

Each shower, each dip in the pool or the ocean... brings me a little closer to it being gone all together.

Mom and Dad gave me the locket - the one engraved with our photo on the boat - after the accident. I never take that off, either - I grab it subconsciously now - but the shoe laces...

They were a direct line to Casey. Something only we shared.

Turning the softened cord around my wrist another time, I take a deep breath and stand, looking at the much emptier, although not complete, room.

Before twisting the garbage bag closed to throw over my shoulder and bring to the donation center, I drop the worn, leather sneakers inside.

***

"Up, Dyl, now!" Luke shouts over the rush of the ocean and my body reacts, my legs surer and stronger than a few weeks ago. I pop up smoothly, more confident than before.

My feet find their places on the surf board, perfectly spaced, steady. I hold my body just so, the burn in my legs now familiar and welcome.

Focusing on a point ahead of me, I breathe as calmly as I can and brace myself to be thrown off again as the surf board begins to dip into the waves.

The ocean builds behind me, the roiling waves propelling the board forward and yet... somehow I stay atop it. Sweats drip down my forehead as I concentrate. I've gotten to this point with Brynn before.

I feel the movement of the wave beneath me and lean my body to angle the board more parallel to the shore. The tip cuts into the waves, and I keep my body centered, leaning into the turns when it feels right.

And I'm focusing so hard that I almost don't realize it: I'm surfing. Really, actually surfing.

Salty wind whips my hair from my eyes and sea mist sprays my face. Adrenaline pumps through me and too excited to contain it, I throw my arms straight into the air, an electrified cheer bursting from my lips.

Throwing off my balance and knocking me from my board.

Salt water engulfs me, tossing me like a rag doll, and yet, I'm smiling as I struggle for control under the surface.

I almost rode that one the whole way.

When I breach the surface of the waves, Luke's paddled closer and I don't let his proximity tone down my volume as I holler, "I did it! Holy shit, I did it! Luke, did you see that?"

I'm scrambling atop my board again, practically shaking, ready to go again. Ready to go now.

This is why Case loved it so much - the power of the entire ocean behind you and you're lucky enough to piggyback on it, to feel it, to use it.

What a rush.

"Hell yeah Dyl, look at you!" Luke is clapping loudly, not sarcastic in the least bit. "That one was perfect, or damn close anyway,"

"You better watch out," I raise a brow, laughing excitedly, "I might be even better than you some day!"

For a second, a flash of doubt runs through me. Dread that the comment will have hurt Luke. What a stupid thing to say to someone who can't surf anymore.

My unusually light spirits are almost darkened by my usual remorse.

But his smile breaks into the best Luke grin, dimples and all, as he tips his head back in a cocky laugh. "Shit, I hope so Dylan, but you've got a long ways to go I'm afraid." He reaches through the water, long fingers clasping around my ankle and dragging me closer to him.

Our knees touch, our boards bobbing beside each other in the waves. Luke leans over and plants a kiss on my shoulder, his eyes tender on my face.

"Not that long a ways," I tease, wiping salt water from his cheek.

"I'll be the judge of that." He kisses my sun-freckled shoulder another time before pointing to the sea. "You might want to get started."

With a playful shove to his ribs, I'm paddling off farther into the ocean, an exhilarating hum running through my veins. My eyes scan ahead, looking for my next wave.

A chuckle behind me has me looking over my shoulder, though, tearing my eyes from the horizon. "What?" I shout back, wondering what he's teasing about now.

"Nothing." Luke shakes his head, water droplets dripping from his grown out hair. "I was just thinking how Casey always said I'd never get you on a board again after that first lesson." His broad shoulders shrug. "If only he could see you now."

I nod, squinting into the sun reflecting off the water.

If only he could see me now.

My chest tightens at the thought. But a smile stretches over my face, a warmth spreading through my body, as I begin to paddle, even harder than the last time.

If he could see me now... Casey would be proud.

This chapter gets me a whole different kinda emotional for Dylan... do you think things are starting to change?♥️


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