Page 47 of Surfer's Paradise

Trace gave him a look. “That’s because arguing with you is pointless.”

Isaac grinned, unbothered. “Glad we understand each other.”

The thing was—he needed this.

He needed the push, the grind, the exhaustion that settled into his bones after hours of straining every muscle in his body past the point of reason.

Because if he didn’t? If he slowed down? If he stopped moving? He didn’t know what the hell would be left of him.

Trace sighed, tucking the stopwatch into his pocket. “Seriously, man. You’re back what—two days? Already you’re running yourself into the ground. How many hours did you sleep this weekend?”

Isaac exhaled, tossing his towel over his shoulder. “Enough.”

Trace scoffed. “Bullshit.”

But before he could say anything else, Adam Carrington’s voice cut through the humid air.

“Rayleigh, quit your flirting and get your bitch ass over here.”

Isaac turned, spotting his platoon chief standing near the edge of the training deck, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

Adam was one of those rock-solid, unshakable types—the kind of guy who had seen it all and had zero patience for anyone’s bullshit. Isaac respected the hell out of him.

“How was the dive?” Adam asked as Isaac approached, falling in beside him.

“Cold,” Isaac smirked. “Boring. Need to spice it up.”

Adam shook his head. “Shit, you got a death wish?”

“Nah,” Isaac mused. “Just like a challenge.”

Adam sighed, but there was something like amusement behind it.

“Your LPO’s looking for you,” he said, nodding toward the main compound. “Go check in with Shaw before he loses his shit.”

Isaac chuckled. “Wouldn’t want to deprive him of his daily rant.”

Adam clapped a hand on his shoulder, a rare moment of warmth. “Good work today. Don’t burn yourself out before the next op.”

Isaac just grinned. No promises.

Colson was already pacing in the team room when Isaac found him, shuffling through mission notes, half a protein shake in one hand, a scowl in place like it was permanent.

“Fuck, finally,” Colson muttered when he spotted Isaac. “You live in the fucking pool now?”

Isaac snorted, dropping into one of the chairs, stretching out like he had all the time in the world. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to go.”

Colson shook his head, not in the mood for games. “You’re booked for another dive assessment on Thursday. New guy coming in needs to see what elite actually looks like.”

“Translation,” Isaac smirked, “You want me to humble him.”

Colson grinned. “Something like that.”

Isaac just nodded.

This was the only life he knew. The next mission. The next deployment. The next impossible task to throw himself at until there was nothing left. He didn’t have time for pottery classes. Didn’t have time for relationships. His sex life was temporary, fleeting, nothing that ever lasted.

Because how the hell could it? He was always halfway out the door. Always waiting for the next call, the next rotation. And no chick worth her salt would wait around for him to just cheat on her while he was touring the globe. That was the price of being in this world.

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