Out of Line (Out of Line #1)(45)
Author: Jen McLaughlin

“Or what? You’ll yell at me some more?”

He hopped off his board and started swimming to me. Oh God. I had to get away. Needed to escape. He’d triggered the fight-or-flight response in my system, and I chose flight. I glanced behind me just in time to see a wave forming. It was bigger than usual, but nothing too insane.

He must’ve seen the look in my eyes, because his own went wide. “Don’t do it, Carrie. You can’t—”

“The hell I can’t,” I echoed back at him, paddling forward.

“Carrie, no!” he yelled. He leapt on his board, clearly trying to catch the wave with me.

I had no idea if he succeeded, because I was trying to keep my balance since the “not so big wave” turned out to be humongous. I was an idiot for trying to ride it. Within seconds, I wiped out, the salt water stinging my eyes and filling my mouth. I hadn’t held my breath. Hadn’t been ready. I’d been too busy worrying about him and what he was doing.

I went under hard, and my tethered surfboard hit me in the back of the head. Stars swam before my eyes, but I tried to wait out the torrential wave like Finn had taught me. I got thrown around like a limp rag doll in a washing machine. Oh, God, I was going to die out here in the cold Pacific Ocean, all because I’d been too much of a fool to know when to call it quits. Too darn full of pride for my own good.

What would happen to Finn when he realized I wasn’t coming back up? How could it be that we would never see each other again? There was so much more to talk about. Things to figure out and fights to have. I wasn’t ready to die yet.

A hand closed around my wrist, yanking me up to the surface. Before I could so much as blink in surprise, my face cleared the water. Finn took a deep gulping breath, then disappeared below the ocean.

“Finn!” I screamed, paddling around in a frantic circle. “Finn!”

Nothing. He was gone.

I took a deep breath and sank under water, but I only just got my head under when someone from behind me yanked me back up. I let out a broken sob and broke free. “No! He’s missing!”

I dove back under the water, but my captor caught my arm again. I swung a fist at him, refusing to be held back when Finn needed help. Refusing to let him die because he’d saved me.

“Jesus, Ginger,” Finn said, shaking me. “I’m right here.” He shook me again. “Carrie, I’m here.”

I stopped fighting and took a deep, ragged breath. He was here. Alive. I burst into tears and threw my arms around his neck. He hugged me tight and kissed my temple, then my cheek. I held my breath, waiting to see if he’d take it further. If he’d kiss me. He seemed to hesitate, his lips hovering near mine. So close I could move just a tiny bit, and we would be touching.

But I held my breath for nothing, because he didn’t move that inch, and neither did I. “Sh. It’s okay. You’re okay. I got you.”

I choked on a sob and hit his shoulder. “I wasn’t worried about me, you idiot.”

“Well, you should have been.” The calming tone he’d been using disappeared and was replaced by the hard, cold tone he’d never used on me before. “Fuck, Carrie. You could’ve died. All because of what?”

“Because of you!” I hit him again, but he didn’t even flinch. “Because you won’t leave me alone! I had to get away.”

He flinched. “Well, from now on, I will. Believe me, I will,” he rasped, his voice breaking on the last word.

He started for the sand. Part of me wanted to continue this fight out here in the ocean, but the other part of me wanted to get him safely to the shore. I had almost lost him. Really lost him. When he’d sunk under the water, I had gone insane with worry. And the way I felt at the mere idea of losing him told me something I should have known already.

I wasn’t over him. I might never be completely over him.

As soon as my feet cleared the hectic rush of the water, he let go of me and dragged his hands down his face. “Jesus.”

“What did you mean out there?” I asked, unable to stop myself. “About leaving me alone?”

He turned to me, his face drawn and ragged looking. “I didn’t know you hated me so much you’d rather die than surf next to me.”

I swallowed hard. That wasn’t it at all. I didn’t hate him. That was the problem. “I can’t surf with you or be your friend. I don’t even want to see you. It hurts too much.”

He paled. “It hurts me too. You have no idea how damn much it hurts because you think this was all a game to me. It wasn’t. And seeing you every day? It kills me.”

I pressed a hand to my heart, the pain he’d sent slicing through it with his words was almost knee buckling. Okay. So maybe he really had cared about me, at one point. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d lied to me. Or the fact that he’d been spying on me for money. For my father. I cared about him too, but nothing could change any of those things…no matter how much I wished it could.

Because I really did.

“Then it’s settled.” My throat was so swollen with pending tears that I could barely speak, let alone breathe. “It’s better if we avoid places we used to hang out. You watch me from a distance as you have been this week, and we don’t come out here anymore. Don’t see each other.”

He cleared his throat. “You won’t see me again. Goodbye.”

Wait. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t let him walk away from me. There had to be a way to at least be friends. Or to try. “Finn, I—”

“Don’t. Just don’t.” He shrugged. Actually shrugged, as if he didn’t care at all. “It doesn’t even matter, does it? We didn’t ever stand a chance.”

My throat ached from the tears I held back. The tears I wasn’t sure I could hold back anymore all because I’d gone and fallen for my bodyguard. “Not with all the lies.”

“Right.” He laughed. “It was all a mistake. One huge f**king mistake, but it’s easy to fix. As easy as walking away.” He gave me one last long, hard look, then said, “Goodbye, Carrie.”

“Finn…” I held my hand out, but he’d already turned his back on me.

He walked away, his back stiff and his head held high. The tone in his voice was so…so final. As if he meant what he said, unlike me. And I had a feeling he would be better at sticking to his word than I was too.

I wouldn’t see him again.