Page 109 of Surfer's Paradise

Like nothing happened.

Like he hadn’t left part of himself in a bed he wasn’t sure he was allowed to return to.

Chapter 20

The morning sun bounced off the Pacific, bright and relentless as the boat cut through the water, salt spray hitting Isaac in the face.

He barely felt it.

His mind was already locked in, already anticipating the dive ahead, already cataloging every possible issue that could go wrong before they even hit the water.

Colson Shaw, LPO, stood at the helm of the boat, barking something at one of the new guys, his usual mix of gruff authority and amusement.

“Better not fucking puke, Harper,” Shaw called over the wind. “Last guy who puked on my boat ended up doing fin drills till he cried.”

Harper—one of the new divers—looked green as hell but nodded stiffly, gripping the edge of the boat like his life depended on it.

Isaac smirked.

Same shit, different day.

He adjusted the straps on his dive rig, checking and rechecking the gear. Even the smallest fuckup could cost someone their life.

Zach was beside him, quiet, eyes locked on the horizon.

Isaac nudged him. “You good?”

Zach exhaled slow, measured. “Yeah.”

Isaac watched him a second longer.

Zach had a bad dive last year. Nearly drowned. Hadn’t been the same since.

And while no one said it out loud, everyone knew—Zach was fighting for his place here. To be fair, they all were. Every day.

Isaac wasn’t about to let another solid operator get benched because his head wasn’t screwed on tight enough.

“Remember your breathing,” Isaac muttered, voice low, calm. “Keep your movements slow, deliberate. No rushing.”

Zach nodded, shoulders tense, but focused.

The boat slowed, Shaw glancing at his watch.

“Alright, guys,” he called. “We’re doing this clean and easy. We have limited bottom time. No bullshit today.”

“That’s new,” Heath muttered from the other side of the boat.

Shaw shot him a look. “Shut the fuck up.”

Isaac smirked, adjusting his mask, but his focus stayed on the new guys.

Harper and Morales looked tight, nervous, and Zach’s hands were clenched just a little too hard on his gear.

Isaac knew the feeling. The gnawing anxiety, the waiting for something to go wrong. And he also knew the only way through it was forward.

“Alright, let’s go,” Shaw said.

Isaac moved first, stepping to the edge, adjusting his mouthpiece, and dropping in.

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