When he said it, he sounded so earnest, so intentional, she had no choice but to obey. It didn’t matter that she was certain she was beyond help or that her dreams haunted her even when she was awake—in that moment, the only thing she needed was what he wanted to give: a small piece of himself.

His hand was back, an offering of hope, and she took it because it had been a long time since she’d felt hopeful, and she missed that feeling.

“We’re going to go slow,” he said.

“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with a thoughtless laugh.

He looked at her, but she kept her eyes down, away—anywhere but locked on to his. She had no filter. Where was the nearest hole to fall into?

She willed herself to stop being so ridiculous and tried to act casual, like they were just two buddies hanging out on the beach and not two people who’d been more than friends once upon a time but who were not friends at all right now. She forced herself not to think about the way his hand wrapped around hers made her feel—like she could do anything.

Her foot slipped and splashed in the shallow water. His arm was around her waist in a flash, steadying her and keeping her from falling.

“You okay?”

“Sure,” she squeaked.

“I don’t, you know.”

She righted herself and looked at him. “Don’t what?”

“Say that to all the girls.” He still had a hold of her hand.

“You don’t go slow?” Her heart dropped. Why would he tell her that?

He laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant there haven’t been a lot of girls.”

Oh. Well, that she hadn’t expected. Was he telling the truth?

He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the dry sand a few feet away, then gave her a once-over. She still had shorts and a tank top over her swimsuit, and frankly that was just fine with her. Except then she’d be in wet clothes the rest of the day.

Why couldn’t they be holding a dogsled race? Then her body could remain covered in layers and layers of clothes.

She removed her tank top and chucked it onto the shore. Her suit was hardly revealing—she’d gotten it for actual swimming, after all. Looking good on the beach had never been her concern.

She stepped out of the water, took her shorts off, and threw them on the pile. When she turned, she found him looking at her, and all at once her entire body blushed. “What?”

He looked away. “Nothing.”

Was he . . . smiling?

She made her way back out to where he stood. “What now, skipper?”

“Now we swim.”

A wave of panic rolled through her.