Page 123 of Surfer's Paradise

Sleep was shallow, restless, twisted with dreams he couldn’t untangle.

When his alarm went off at 0600, Isaac was already awake.

Already staring at the ceiling.

Already knowing—he had a problem.

A problem named Rosie Quentin.

And he had no fucking clue how to fix it.

Isaac pulled into the parking lot at Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, his truck rolling into a familiar spot between Zach’s Tacoma and Shay’s F150.

He killed the engine, grabbed his kit, and climbed out, rolling his shoulders to work out the stiffness from a shit night of sleep. The air was already warm, the early morning sun bouncing off the asphalt, the scent of salt and jet fuel thick in the air. He was in for another long day. Another long-ass stretch of training.

Across the lot, Zach and Shay were already there, standing near the vehicles, finishing off their coffees, talking about the weekend.

San Onofre. Pacific Coast. Surfer’s Paradise.

“You in, or what?” Shay called, lifting his chin as Isaac approached.

Isaac rubbed his hand over his jaw, still waking up, still feeling like absolute shit.

Surfing. Diving. Distraction.

Yeah. He needed that.

“Yeah,” he muttered, setting his gear down beside them. “I’m in.”

Zach grinned, taking a sip of his coffee.

“Vero’s coming,” he said. “She wants to dive on Saturday, then surf Sunday.”

Isaac nodded.

Zach’s wife was cool as hell, marine biologist, a diver in her own right, member of La Jolla dive club, someone who got this life. She and Zach had figured it out, somehow.

Shay smirked, stretching his arms overhead.

“Vero better bring some friends,” he muttered. “We all know Isaac’s single, but I’d rather not be the only one without a girl in my tent.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, opening his truck and grabbing his pack.

“I don’t need a girl,” he muttered.

“That’s new,” Shay teased, grinning over his coffee.

Isaac didn’t respond.

Didn’t want to talk about it.

Didn’t want to think about how Rosie had walked away from him last night.

Didn’t want to acknowledge the way his stomach twisted when he realized he had no idea if she’d still be there when he got home.

He should have never let her walk away.

But he had.

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