Page 32 of Unconditionally Yours

“Nope.” He smiles. “Honestly, I’ve had weirder conversations during CPR certification. Once a guy asked if mouth-to-mouth counts as cheating.”

“Wait, does it?” I demand.

He snorts. “If you’re asking that during a medical emergency, maybe your relationship’s already doomed.”

I stare at him, stunned. “You’re good at this.”

“At what?”

“This.” I wave my hand around the air like I’m conducting some kind of emotional symphony I don’t know the notes to. “The… being a soft human flotation device for the mentally unwell.”

He tilts his head. “You’re not mentally unwell. You’re scared.”

That hits me square in the sternum.

I want to argue. Say something mean. Bite his perfect chest. Anything but this feeling like maybe he sees me and doesn’t flinch.

My knees buckle slightly. The water’s up to them now. I’ve survived worse. But not while anyone was watching.

“Pool chemicals smell like childhood trauma,” I say, because God forbid I be normal for five seconds.

Benji grins. “They do kinda smell like bleach and repressed memories.”

“Exactly,” I whisper, eyes wide. “It’s like... if trauma had a perfume line.”

He lets out a huff of laughter, but when I wobble again, his arm comes around my waist, solid and sure and there. “You okay?” he asks.

No.

“Yes,” I lie. Then, “Maybe.”

I lean into him before I can talk myself out of it. Press my face against his chest, which is somehow even warmer than the sun, and breathe in his sunscreen and something inherently safe. I’m not crying. Not exactly. But something is leaking out of me. It’s tension melting. Poison bleeding into open air.

He shifts slightly to cradle me, big hands spanning my back. I fit here.

“Thank you,” I say, voice raw.

His chin brushes the top of my head. “Anytime, ma’am.”

Ma’am.

Oh God.

I might be in love with a lifeguard.

Chapter Eleven

Benji

I knew from the second I saw her, bright hair, sharp mouth, tiny little thing with armor made of sarcasm and sins that she was gonna wreck me a little.

Okay. A lot.

But I wasn’t expecting this. Her in my arms. Shaking, soaking, pressed to my chest. Me the only solid thing in her universe right now. She smells like cupcakes, sunscreen, and the kind of trouble you wake up hard from… twice.

And she’s so damn small.

I don’t just mean short. I mean…delicate. If I breathe too hard she might float away, and I’m not ready to let go yet. Not even close.