Return to the Beach House by Georgia Bockoven Read Free Book Online Page A

could be himself, where he could find the Christopher who was nothing like his father or grandfather. Where he could explore and discover the bits and pieces of himself hidden behind the need his mother and grandmother had to see the men they loved reflected back at them whenever they looked at Christopher.
    The doubt that kept him awake at night was the scary possibility of discovering there wasn’t anything to find.
    Expecting bikes rescued from a secondhand store, Christopher was impressed when he discovered two brand-new Novaras, the same bike he used at home. A cupboard over the bikes held an assortment of helmets, and a note tacked to the cupboard door warned that helmets were mandatory in California.
    Starting out slow in order to take in his surroundings, Christopher stopped at an overlook and sent a text to Alison telling her that he was heading south to do a little exploring and would be back before dark.
    “Dinner?” she answered. “I could go to the store and pick up anything you’d like. Is there something you’ve been craving?”
    “Sandwich is good.”
    “I have a book that says there’s a bike trail that runs along the shoreline. Great views. Should b amazing. Have fun.”
    “Already am.”
    “It’s been too quiet. I’m really glad u r here. Any plans for tomorrow besides taking me to Monterey to get my car?”
    “Me too. Talk about plans L8R.”
    “Yes. Of course. You need to pay attention to traffic. Lots of people on bikes around here, but lots of tourists who don’t pay attention too. Pls be careful.”
    “K.”
    “Bye.”
    Knowing she would wait for a response that none of his friends would expect, he texted: “B4N.”
    It had taken him six months to get her to use her iPhone for something other than making calls, and another six months to get her to give Angry Birds a rest and send a text. She’d taken to it faster than he’d expected, but he still had a ways to go in teaching her the benefits of brevity.
    The traffic light turned red. He turned right and three blocks later was at the ocean. Right away he spotted the trail his grandmother had told him about that ran along the top of the cliff. This time he turned left and a couple of miles later wound up in a large parking lot filled with SUVs, vans, and cars with racks on their roofs. Half had surfboards being loaded or unloaded by people in various stages of putting on or taking off wet suits. A quick look at the shoreline confirmed that the other half were in the water.
    Christopher threaded his way through the gathering, looking for a place where he could lock the bike and watch the action. Here was the sand and surf he’d anticipated. And it was everything he’d hoped it would be.
    For him, this was the California of his dreams. He had no trouble ignoring the Hollywood scene or the cities that had songs written about them. He could even take a pass on Yosemite and the other parks that drew bumper-to-bumper tourists. And it wasn’t as if he’d never seen an ocean.
    What he’d imagined when he found out he was going to California was the freedom to wear his hair long or grow a beard or bus tables at a seaside restaurant where everyone understood it was more important to hit the waves when the surf was up than it was to clear dishes.
    If he was ever consumed by any real ambition other than riding, he wanted it to be lit by a fire of his own making. He didn’t give a damn about controlling the money in the half dozen investment accounts that would come to him when he turned twenty-five. It wasn’t his money. He hadn’t earned it. And yet he was going to spend the next five years learning how to make that money grow even faster than it already had—and the rest of his life doing the same thing for others.
    It didn’t matter whether it was bars of gold or an elephant sitting on his chest, the result was the same. Suffocation.
    “Hey, just like my friend’s. What do you think?”
    Christopher looked up to see a kid with a