I took a slow breath, the salt air filling my lungs, the cold water tugging at my legs as if it, too, was waiting for me to speak. “No,” I said firmly. “There wasn’t anyone else.”

Her lips twitched. “Shame. You had options, I’m sure.”

I stared at her, my heart thudding. “Options? I repeated, disbelief creeping into my voice. “I spent my nights alone, reading romance novels and highlighting anything I thought might help me understand you better.” I let the words fall, not quite believing I had just said them out loud.

Her mouth parted in surprise, but she didn’t say anything. Just swam a few feet away, her back to me.

“Wait—what about you?” I asked.

She glanced over her shoulder. “Yeah. I did.”

The words hit like ice down my spine.

My chest caved in. Not from jealousy. Just pure fear. A sharp, blinding panic that someone had touched her, and worse, hurt her. Taken what she didn’t want to give. “Did he hurt you?” I asked, panic rising like bile. “Did you want it, or did he⁠—?”

She blinked, then burst out laughing. Full, bright, wicked laughter that rang out over the waves.

“I’m just messing with you.”

I stared at her, heart still thundering, half relieved, half ready to dive underwater just to cool my face.

“You should’ve seen your face,” she laughed.

My pulse still hadn’t slowed, but I found myself laughing too—somewhere between relief and something more primal.

I wanted to be mad, but all I could think about was how much I wanted her. How badly I wanted to pull her close, bury my hands in her hair, taste the salt on her skin, and undress her with my teeth. I wanted to make the ocean jealous. I wanted to kiss her with a desperation that was almost painful. I needed to kiss her until I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be apart from her. Touch her in ways that would erase every fleeting doubt that held her back. But before I could act on the sudden surge of desire, Beverly swam further away, suddenly and quietly, gliding into the deeper part of the ocean without a word.

Something in me panicked. I swam after her and caught her wrist under the surface. “Don’t swim away,” I said, breathless. “No more running, B. And no more fighting.”

She stared at me. Her lips were parted. Her skin shimmered, damp and divine. “You won’t ever run again?” she asked softly.

“No,” I promised, my voice steady, unwavering, even though my heart was still racing in my chest. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”

Her brows furrowed, and she glanced down at where my hand still held her wrist. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because I don’t want it to be someone else, Beverly.”