"And are you?" Matt asked.

Brooke hesitated. "I don't know. I was. He..." She bent her head and looked briefly at the sand. "He took me home and went back to the party."

h.e.l.l, that wasn't what she'd meant to say. This wasn't about her and her hurt feelings.

"I mean, he caused a lot of trouble by going back to that party. My job's at risk. So's his sponsorship. Although winning probably helped that."

"Your job's at risk?" Corey's eyes widened. "And his sponsorship?"

"Yes." Brooke bit her lip. "It was my job to keep him out of trouble while he's here." She made a little face at them. "He'd been in a bit of trouble in the media and Jackson Cole execs weren't too impressed by that. They were considering cancelling his sponsorship deal."

"He never told us that," Matt said slowly, folding his arms across his broad chest. "He said you came with him to the wedding because it was part of your job to keep an eye on him, but I didn't realize it was that serious."

"Well, I don't suppose it's something he wanted to talk about much," Brooke said. "And I probably shouldn't be telling you this now either. In fact, I have no idea why we're having this conversation."

"Dylan's our friend," Corey said, slipping her hand through Matt's arm and hugging it. "We care about him. If he's hurting, we want to help."

"Yeah, he told me about your friendship." The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Corey lips parted and she looked up at her husband. Her cheeks went faintly pink. "Oh really."

"It's none of my business." Brooke's own face heated. She should never have brought that up.

"Well. If Dylan told you about that...that doesn't really sound like a 'business' discussion." Corey tilted her head and gave Matt another questioning look. He gave a tiny nod. Corey looked back at Brooke and met her eyes steadily. "That bothers you, doesn't it?"

Brooke swallowed. "What? You and Dylan...being together? No."

"Bulls.h.i.t." Corey smiled. "Brooke, I love my husband. Not Dylan. Dylan's a friend and nothing more."

"Maybe we should go somewhere else to have this conversation," Matt said.

"I'm just on my way home," Brooke said, taking a step back. "My sister and her husband are waiting for me." The crowd had thinned out. "There's not really anything to talk about."

"I think you should know what happened with Dylan last year."

"I know what happened."

"Do you? Do you know that he almost died in that accident he had?"

"Um." She blinked. "Yes. It was in the news. He had a broken foot."

"He was trapped under water and couldn't get free. He lost consciousness before they could get him out and they had to resuscitate him on the beach."

She remembered him talking about being slammed by the wave, his leash caught, holding him underwater. Her stomach clenched and a shiver worked over her skin.

"He was a bit messed up after that," Corey said. "Okay, a lot. He came here to do some rehab while he was recovering. We didn't realize at first what was wrong. He was having nightmares. Flashbacks. Panic attacks. He was afraid to go in the water. He was talking about giving up his surfing career."

A muted buzzing noise sounded in Brooke's ears, beneath Corey's soft voice. She remembered the nightmare he'd had that night in Tahiti, how he'd woken up sweating. "He said he asked you to go on the tour with him. That doesn't sound like he was thinking of giving it up."

"Asking me to go with him just shows how confused he was," Corey replied. "Yes, he thought he had feelings for me, but even then, he knew he really didn't love me. Not like that. He didn't really want me to go with him. He was just terrified. I think he was terrified of losing the one thing that's been important in his life. His surfing. He has this idea that that's all he can do. And if he couldn't do that, who would he be?"

Brooke let Corey's words sink in, her brain trying to make sense of it all. "I know he was having nightmares. Did he have PTSD?"

Corey shrugged. "I'm not a psychologist, but he definitely had some symptoms. But he was keeping it all inside him. He didn't tell us about any of this, we found out by accident. Sort of. He needed help to get through it, and we're so, so glad he did. But when we talked to him the other day...it was like he was back in that bad place again. I was worried for him, worried he wasn't going to be able to do it."

"But he did." Brooke looked away from Corey and focused on a nearby palm tree. "Obviously he was able to focus on his surfing. That's one thing he's good at. Focusing on himself."

"Well. I guess it takes a certain amount of that to become the best surfer in the world," Matt said quietly. "But I don't think it's fair to say that he doesn't care about anything but himself."

"That's for d.a.m.n sure," Corey added. "When he wanted me to go with him last year and I turned him down, he knew right away why that was. It was because I was in love with Matt, even though I didn't realize it. I mean, we all know Dylan wasn't really in love with me, but what he did was the most unselfish thing possible-he stepped aside so Matt and I could be together. That's not a guy who only thinks about himself."

Brooke shook her head and rubbed her forehead. "No. I know that. I didn't mean that."

"Brooke." Corey spoke gently and Brooke met her eyes. The softness there made her throat tighten. "Clearly this wasn't all business between you."

Brooke sighed. "Fine. We did kind of get involved. But that was a mistake. Because even though I..." She swallowed. "Even though I care about him, he made his choice. I'm happy for him, I'm so happy that he won, and his dream came true. I know how hard he's worked for this. But to me...you can't have real happiness without thinking of others, and he only thinks about himself. He made that clear the night of the party. He knew how important it was to be a team player, to keep out of trouble, for the sake of his sponsors, the charities he worked with..." She gave a bitter laugh. "And I even had some crazy idea he cared about me. But obviously he didn't. So I wish him well."

Corey and Matt shared another concerned look.

"Hey, it's okay," she said, pasting on a tight smile. "I'm okay, Dylan's okay. He won! He's probably on top of the world right now!"

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Dylan was the center of attention, people congratulating him, hugging him, slapping him on the back, crowding around him. It was what he'd dreamed of and imagined, everything he'd always wanted. He'd won! Hot f.u.c.k, he'd done it!

Before he could do anything else, he was dragged off to pee in a cup for the drug testing that the winners and random other surfers had to undergo. Once that was done, he moved on to hours of interviews and photographs and autograph signings. It was surreal. It was what he'd been waiting his whole life for. He'd just won a hundred grand! He smiled until his face hurt, laughed and gave the media all the sound bites they needed, but it was like he was moving through a dream.

When he posed for pictures with some of the kids from Daytrippers who'd been given prime viewing spots, the joy on their faces was as great as his own, which gave him pause. Wow. They were happy for him! d.a.m.n, that felt good, knowing that he'd done something good for them and that Daytrippers would continue to benefit from his involvement. He wanted to do more.

Much as he was enjoying this, much as he'd waited his whole life for this moment, hours later he found himself wanting to get away from the crowds of people and all the noise and hype, and be alone for a few minutes. His empty hotel room didn't appeal to him. No, where he really wanted to be was back out there on the water. Floating on the swelling ocean, surrounded by water, made small and insignificant by the immensity and power of it. That was where he wanted to be. Just him and the ocean.

Tempting as it was to ditch everything, he had a new watchdog keeping track of his every move. He was pretty sure Tim wouldn't let him make a run for it. Neither would Brooke have, if she'd been there. But if she'd been there, he wouldn't want to make a run for it.

Christ.

"Congratulations, Dylan," Tim said with a huge smile and a slap on the shoulder. "You rocked out there."

"Yeah, thanks man."

Maybe now he'd won and the compet.i.tion was over, the dude would leave him alone. But no. Tim was stuck like glue. Dylan started to feel pressure building up inside him, more pressure even than before the compet.i.tion. Or maybe it was just different. He had to get away. He had to be alone. He needed time.

Finally, finally he'd done every interview he needed to, talked to every sports reporter and surfing blogger, every bigwig from ICON Entertainment, the ASP, Jackson Cole and his other sponsors. He thanked them all sincerely for their part in giving him a chance to achieve his dream. He expressed his desire to continue to work with them, again sincerely, hoping he hadn't completely blown everything at the exact time he'd finally won.

He wanted to mention Brooke, to make sure she was okay, but it was hard to work that into the conversation without seeming weird.

Wondering if Tim was going to accompany him to his hotel room and spend the night, he made a break for it when the guy got sidetracked talking to the guys from ICON. He slipped out through the crowd that had gathered around the stage for the last concert. Out of his wetsuit, now dressed in board shorts and a T-shirt, sungla.s.ses and a ball cap, he headed for his car with one of his boards.

Breaker Beach had a lot of good memories for him, and now even more so. Returning to the beach where he'd learned to surf as a kid to win the Jackson Cole Pro was like a dream come true. He drove back up into town, along Sh.o.r.e Drive, past Corey's new chocolate shop that he hadn't even checked out yet. d.a.m.n. He'd like to see it. But not now. He also pa.s.sed Matt's brew pub and all the other little businesses that lined the streets, the sidewalks still full of tourists in town for the event as people wound down their weekend.

He was supposed to be out celebrating and partying, which is what he usually did after any compet.i.tion, never mind one that he'd won. He snorted as he drove to the very end of Sh.o.r.e Drive and pulled into the parking lot near Cave Road. This end of the beach was quieter, the water calmer here, not good for surfing at all. It was more of a family beach and there were still a few people out enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. He parked in another lot where sand spilled from the beach onto the pavement, grabbed his board and headed toward the water. He just wanted to paddle out and sit there and think for a while.

So he did.

Drifting on the gently rocking water, straddling the board, the wind in his ears, he gazed around him at the expanse of water that seemed to go on forever. He'd sat on this ocean in so many places-Tahiti was right over there. Well, a long ways over there. He imagined what would happen if he kept paddling toward it. How long would it take him to get there?

Then he laughed at himself. He'd never get there alive. He was thinking crazy thoughts.

He tipped his head up to the sky, so bright blue it was almost painful, the sun now lower in the sky lighting up the puffy clouds in stark white and palest peach. Awesome.

He let out a long, long breath. Alone. He was alone. He usually didn't want to be alone, hadn't wanted to be alone much since his accident last year. Any time he was alone, he started getting scared and that made him want to do crazy things like drink a lot and smoke dope and sleep with as many girls as he could.

What an idiot.

So he'd won. But at what cost? What had he lost?

Possibly his sponsorship. Possibly his work with the charities that he'd surprisingly enjoyed. His friends. And Brooke.

He didn't know if she'd ever been his to lose.

With a heavy ache in his chest, he closed his eyes and turned his face into the ocean breeze. A moment later, he opened his eyes and barked out a short laugh. Last time he'd been here in San Amaro, he hadn't wanted to leave. He'd been afraid to get back in the water, afraid of failing mostly. And he'd made the mistake of thinking he needed a woman-Corey-to help him through that.

Now once again he didn't want to leave San Amaro but for a completely different reason. He wasn't going to make the mistake of asking Brooke to go with him. That was laughable. She hated his guts right now and besides, her life was there. She'd told him how much she loved her home, the city, her friends, the family she was so close to. That close family he'd envied.

He wanted those things that were so important to Brooke. He wanted a home. He wanted friends. He wanted family. He wanted Brooke.

He returned to his hotel room, alone, and for the first time in a long time, he was okay with that. He turned off his cell phone and the phone in the room and tried to sleep. It took a while, he was still so jacked up on adrenaline and excitement. His mind wandered to Brooke and having her in his bed, remembering touching her and tasting her and being inside her. And he got hard. Maybe a fast hand job would relieve some stress and help him sleep.

And maybe it did help, because he fell asleep. All night long he dreamed of Brooke, but the dreams turned frustrating. They were in the water, floating on surfboards, and he was trying to get to her, paddling, paddling, but he couldn't get closer; she kept drifting just beyond his reach.

He awoke in the morning feeling tired, irritable and out of sorts. He dressed for his meeting with Holden and the people at Jackson Cole and went down to the hotel restaurant for some breakfast. There he ran into Brooke's sister Fraya.

"Oh hi," he said to her, smiling.

"Dylan. Congratulations." She gave him a narrow-eyed, cool look.

"Uh. Thanks."

They eyed each other.

"I was there yesterday watching you win," she offered. "With Brooke."

His gut clenched. "She was there?"

"Of course she was there."

He shook his head. "She didn't have to be. I guess she probably told you we're not working together anymore."

"Yeah, she told me." She rolled her eyes. "She told me you threw her under a bus."

"What the f-under a bus?"

"Not literally, for G.o.d's sake. I meant that night you took her home and then went back to party. Didn't you know you were putting her job on the line? Maybe her entire career? Did you even think that you might be hurting her feelings? Have you ever thought of anyone but yourself?"

He took a step back, blinking. She might as well have poked him in the chest with her finger, she was so p.i.s.sed. "Whoa." He held up his hands. "Hold on here." He glanced around the lobby of the hotel to see who was paying attention. Yeah, only everyone in the room. "You got some kind of problem with me?"

"Yeah, I do." She followed his retreat, like an angry mama bear defending her cub. And he remembered that Brooke was the baby of the family and as she put it, they never let her forget it. Big sister here was on the warpath. d.a.m.n. That was sweet that she had people sticking up for her like that. n.o.body'd ever done that for him. He grinned.

Fraya scowled at him. "What's so funny?"

"It's not funny." He looked around again. "Look, if you want to talk, let's go have coffee or something, where we're not putting on a big show."

She too cast her eyes around and grimaced. "s.h.i.t. Sorry."

"Come on. I was about to have breakfast."

"I don't have long. I have a breakfast meeting with a client in..." She glanced at her watch. "Ten minutes."

"Okay. Ten minutes." He led the way into the restaurant and they were seated at a booth.

"Okay, obviously you're angry at me," he said. "I know I screwed up going back to that party, but I didn't know it was going to be such a big deal." He rolled his eyes.

The waitress appeared and poured coffee into his mug. Fraya nodded for her to pour some into her cup too.

"Ready to order?" the girl asked cheerily.

"Cheese omelet with a side of fruit," he said.

"Toast?"

"No, thanks."

The girl looked at Fraya who shook her head. "Just coffee."

"All righty." The girl scooped up the menus and left.

"Nothing happened that night. I wasn't even drinking, and I went home alone."

Fraya lifted her chin and looked down her nose at him. "Uh huh."

His shoulders tensed. "It's the truth. You can ask Brooke, but whatever my faults are, and I know I have lots, I don't lie."

She nodded. "Still. It was a douchey move to drop her off and then go back to the party."