Page 90 of Dropping In
Epilogue
Nala
The waves roll in to shore, rocking my board where I sit, body turned to the falling sun. I wait, feet treading lazy circles in the water, eyes tracking the different colors the sky splashes across the surface.
Three days ago, I got a call from a lawyer in San Diego—he asked me if I would be willing to testify against Ezra Shields in a case he was putting together against him. He said that in his research he had come across an old police report I had filed, one that was just about at its statute of limitations for prosecution.
I don’t know how he found it, and Mr. Richards denies any involvement, as does Malcolm, though it doesn’t really matter. After a day debating, talking to Jordan and Malcolm, of making certain I know the consequences of trading my story for Mal’s freedom if that piece of information comes to light, I’ve agreed to give my story in a deposition, and so have three other girls—girls I wondered if existed, and do, girls whose lives were altered just like mine, who were afraid to speak because like me, they don’t come from the means and background that Ezra does.
We were all brought together because one of us was strong enough to stand up, and knowing what we do, we’ll stand with her, even if it means going to trial. But the lawyer doesn’t think it will—Ezra has a family who won’t let their name be dragged through the mud, and as much as everyone else would love for it to, a trial means a lot of things that we don’t want to live through.
There are very few ways to keep these things private, especially when a large family name is involved. We want justice…but we also want to move on with our lives. We want freedom.
The sun is almost gone by the time I choose my last wave, a bright orange ball of fire sinking quickly, illuminating everything else so it glows and burns. I eggbeater my legs in the same way I’ve been doing my whole life, the movement fluid while I turn my board and lay flat to begin my paddle. My arms dig through the water, pushing my body faster and faster with the wave that’s rolling in on the last vestiges of light, and when we meet at that culminating edge, I pop tall, feet beginning their work the moment they hit the board.
It’s a big run, heavy with cuts and spray, and I ride it until the end, sliding out just before it crashes around me.
The shore is close, and when I slide to my stomach and begin my paddle in, I see it—that familiar silhouette that makes my heart beat out of rhythm, and my breath leave my lungs.
His unruly black hair is flipped out from underneath a black cap, his black shorts and white Henley fitted enough I can see the strength from here. It’s awing to know this man is mine, to know he stands and waits for me, that he fights for me, that he comes home to me.
That he loves me.
It’s September. I’m back in school, starting my senior year, and he’s still on the circuit, though he’s picking and choosing competitions, rather than entering them all. He’s focused mostly on his brand, growing it, and with us, building our life.
That’s the most exciting part, knowing who we are growing into together, the best friends we once were, the lovers we both always wanted.
He meets me in the shallow surf to take my board, his hands reaching for me at the same time, bringing me against him even though I’m wet. I don’t tell him not to, mostly because telling Malcolm things only makes him want to prove a person wrong, and also because after two weeks apart, being pulled against him is exactly what I want.
We don’t exchange any words before his lips come down on mine, drinking me in and giving me the ability to do the same. After years of not being together, we never waste time to touch, just like we’re never short on words. Who we are, Malcolm and Nala, it’s too important to ever forget all of the things we once lived without.
Mal’s tongue sweeps through my mouth one more time, his lips sucking mine when I do the same, and I press closer, absorbing him into my skin before we break apart.
“You weren’t supposed to be home until next week.”
He nods, lips brushing across mine once more, nose skimming my cheek, my neck, and up to my hair, both arms wrapping all the way around me. “Couldn’t wait.”
Those words… “If you had told me I would have been at home waiting for you.”
He reaches down and hefts my board, keeping his arm around me while we walk to the sand. “You don’t need to wait for me, Nalani. I’ll always find you.”
I smile because it’s true. It doesn’t matter how long he’s been gone, or what time of day he returns, he’s always in the exact right spot—outside of class, slipping in beside me in the bed we now share, the Y, our beach…Malcolm Brady has found me, time and again.
“You ready?” I ask, grabbing my bag and drying off. When I turn, he’s no longer standing, but kneeling, closer to eye-level like this than when he’s on his feet.
My breath hitches, and I pause, bag slipping from my fingers when I see what he’s holding.
“Nalani Willow Jansen, I’ve loved you since I met you, wanted you since I became a man, needed you for what seems like my entire life, even before I knew you.” Tears spring to my eyes, and he reaches out, swiping his finger underneath and catching them, big hand curving around my cheek and threading into my hair, bringing me close. “You’re my partner, and the goddamn love of my life. Marry me, take my name. Let me be yours forever.”
I nod, but he leans back when I go to kiss him. “Say it. Give me the words.”
“Yes. Yes, Malcolm Brady, I’ll marry you and be yours, like you’re mine.”
“Forever,” he says, taking my left hand. “Say it’s forever.”
“Forever,” I whisper, watching while he slips the ring on, a double rose-gold band with an inlaid stone, the metal work intricate, as if the stone is blooming from the center of a flower.
“When I told your mom what I wanted, she cried.”