A blond man prepared to catch the next wave a few hundred feet over, and past him a woman with black hair bobbed in the water. It was a perfect, peaceful morning.

But I felt anything but peaceful.

Finn swam back to my side and I forced a bright smile. If it was the last thing I did, I would hide my anxiety from him. He didn’t need my baggage sinking him down to the bottom of the Pacific. “That was a good one.”

He climbed back on his black board and shook his hair like a wet dog, spraying me. “It was. Next one’s yours, though.”

“As long as it’s little enough to pass your test,” I added, unable to resist teasing him. Truth be told, I liked how protective he was. He loved me and he didn’t want to lose me. I totally got that. “Right?”

“Right.” He looked over his shoulder and trailed his fingers through the water absentmindedly. “Here comes a good one.”

I paddled forward, watching the wave swell closer. “See ya on the flip side.”

“Remember, if you go under, wait it out,” he called, his voice tight.

I nodded as I paddled faster, ignoring the fear surging through me as the wave grew and grew. Apparently, that near drowning affected me more than I thought. I refused to let it conquer my enjoyment of the sport. Heck, people got limbs chewed off by sharks and went back out there. What was an almost drowning in comparison?

I struggled to my feet, wobbling a bit at first, but as I straightened my legs and stood, I gained my footing—and my confidence. As I rode the wave, holding my arms out for balance, I laughed from the sheer joy of the rush. I didn’t attempt any fancy moves or anything—it took all my concentration just to stay upright.

But my head pounded and my heart raced, making me lightheaded. God, I’d become such an adrenaline junky since meeting Finn. I wanted to do all the things, and I wanted to do them now—with him at my side. Once my ride was over, I stood up and squeezed the excess moisture out of my hair.

I made my way back to Finn, a smile on my face the whole time. I’d missed this. Missed surfing, even though it had only been a week or two since we last came out. Maybe this weekend when Finn was gone, I would—

I stopped walking, a tingling sensation creeping up my spine. I had the weirdest feeling that someone was watching me, but when I looked over my shoulder, the beach was empty. The only people out and about were surfers, and none of them were paying any attention to me. I shook off the creepy sensation, forcing myself to keep walking.

It was all the uncertainty messing with my head, I’d bet. All the what ifs and Finn’s own suspicions about my father’s silence were screwing with me. Maybe reliving the time I’d been kidnapped contributed to my imagining someone watching me. That hadn’t exactly been a walk in the park or a happy memory to retell.

All of this stressful crap was obviously combining in one tight ball in my head, making me think the shadows were chasing me. Making me think I was being watched, when the only one watching me was my bodyguard slash boyfriend.

I had enough to stress about. I needed to stop imagining new things. The whole way back to Finn, I thought about what life would be like after this year was up.

I was terrified about what Dad would do when he found out Finn and I had fallen in love. He could totally flip out, or he could—unlikely, as it might be—accept it for what it was. Maybe he would be angry, but he’d get over it with time. Or maybe we would never be welcome in his house again.

He could be quite stubborn when he wanted to be. It’s admittedly where I’d gotten my stubborn streak from. And I wouldn’t put it past him to make it a point to show me how many different ways I’d disappointed him through lectures and maybe even a little bit of a disowning shame. But he wouldn’t actually cut the ties with me all because I dared to fall in love.

At least I hoped he wouldn’t.

It was a risk I was willing to take for Finn.

Later that night, I waited in the living room as Carrie finished getting ready in my bathroom for our date. Even though we were only going out to dinner, I was nervous for some stupid ass reason I couldn’t quite put my finger on. It was our first real date, yeah, but I didn’t think that’s what was bothering me. I just felt…

I don’t know. Different somehow.

As if I was pretending to be something I wasn’t. Again.

I tugged on my collar. Jesus, I swore the thing was single-handedly attempting to choke the life out of me. I was also starting to think it might win. My palms were sweaty, and I was so hot I didn’t think I was going to make it through the night in this damned contraption. Maybe I’d had more Cali Surfer Boy left over in my blood than I’d thought.

Or maybe I was going soft.

I flopped down on the couch, setting my legs on the coffee table. This dress-up date was probably a bad idea. I wasn’t a fancy guy, even if she was a fancy girl.

I was just me.

Why did I feel like I needed to be this guy for her all of a sudden? Maybe it was because I was more than likely leaving, and I was having a panic attack of sorts, trying to be everything she could ever possibly want me to be. Or maybe part of me just now realized that no matter what she said or thought, she came from a world where tuxes and champagne were more common than beer and movie nights…and if we were going to be together, I had to be in that world, too.

If I had any chance in hell in getting her father to accept me, I had to change. I had to be respectful and honorable and dress like this.

Go on dates like this. Be like this. And I fucking hated it.

Thinking about all the ways Carrie and I could go wrong made me realize her father still hadn’t texted me even once. My heart clenched and I picked up my phone, scanning through our messages. The last text he’d sent on his own had been the morning Carrie had woken up late for school.

I tightened my jaw and typed: Carrie is home and taking it easy tonight.

A whole minute passed with no reply. What. The. Fuck?

If he wasn’t answering my texts, I didn’t know what the hell to think. First the odd call from my commanding officer, and now I was being ignored by a man who had previously needed me to hold his hand all this time. These were not good things. I knew it—even if I had no clue what the hell was going on in my life lately.

The bathroom door opened, and I stood up, tugging on my suit jacket as I turned to face her. I was about to ask her if she’d heard from her father, but then I turned around, and she stole the words right off the tip of my tongue. She took my breath away with her beauty, and it would never cease to amaze me how much of an effect she had on me.

I’d told her to wear a dress because we were going out somewhere nice, and she’d pulled out all the stops. She wore a dark purple dress that I suspected might melt if I touched it, it looked that soft. It clung to her body perfectly, highlighting everything that made her…well, her.

She topped it off with her long, red hair cascading down her back, just enough makeup to bring out her gorgeous blue eyes I loved so much, and a pair of black heels that would be over my shoulders by the end of the night if I had anything to say about it.

I didn’t know whether to drool, throw her on the bed and hide her from the world, or take her out for all to see. The old me would’ve hidden her. Kept her to myself selfishly. But the new me? The me I was trying to be for her?

Not so much.

“You look beautiful,” I managed to say through my tight throat and the even tighter tie. “Really fucking beautiful.”

She dipped her gaze over me, her eyes lighting up in that way that told me she liked what she saw. “Dude. You look hot all dressed up. Like, really hot. I never thought I’d prefer you in something besides a pair of board shorts and a bare chest, but hel-lo.”