That’s how long you and Brody had been together. Eight months of early mornings on the beach, shared patrols, stolen kisses in the tower, and quiet nights where he’d let his guard down with you in ways he never did with anyone else.

He loved you. You loved him.

But this summer?

This summer had tested everything. The Valley kids—Tyler, Lizzie, Eric, Gina, Dylan—had arrived, and with them came tension. Brody was harsher. Crueler. Sharper with his words. Every time he snapped at them, every time he made them feel smaller, it felt like a crack forming between you.

“You don’t have to treat them like that,” you’d told him more than once.

“And you don’t have to defend them every time,” he’d shot back

The arguments never lasted long—but they left marks.

The day it happened, the ocean was restless. Not stormy—worse. Calm in a way that felt wrong.

The radio crackled.

“Emergency. Swimmer in distress. Possible shark activity.”

Your heart dropped.

You were already running before the call finished. You jumped onto the jet ski, hands steady despite the adrenaline surging through you. Spencer took the other jet ski, engines roaring in unison as you tore across the water.

Behind you, Brody and Logan were on the rescue boat, cutting through the waves between you.

And then you saw him.

A man in the water. Panicking.

And circling him—three dark shapes cutting through the surface.

“Sharks!” Logan shouted. “Scare them off—now!”

You didn’t hesitate. You revved the engine hard, steering wide, creating noise and spray. Spencer mirrored you on the other side. The water churned violently as you worked together, pushing the sharks back just far enough.

Brody and Logan hauled the man onto the rescue boat, moving fast, professional, perfectly in sync.

“He’s secure!” Brody shouted. “You’re clear—pull back!”

Relief flooded your chest.

You turned your jet ski, heart still racing, ready to head back—

when the sound hit you.

A sharp splash.

And then—

“Hey— I fell!”

Brody’s voice.

Your head snapped around.

The rescue boat rocked slightly. Logan was shouting his name. And there—

Brody was in the water.

Your blood went cold.

The sharks—drawn back by the movement, the sound—were already turning. Dark shapes reappearing beneath the surface.

“No,” you breathed.

You didn’t think. You reacted.

You whipped the jet ski around so hard the water sprayed up into your face, engine screaming as you gunned it straight toward him.

“Brody!” you shouted.

He was treading water, eyes locked on you—not scared. Just stunned.

“Stay still!” you yelled. “Don’t move!”

You slammed the throttle, cutting across the water, positioning the jet ski between him and the sharks. The engine roared, the vibration sending shockwaves through the water.

One of the fins disappeared. Then another. Your heart hammered as you reached out. “Grab on!”

He did—hands locking onto your arms, strong but shaking. You pulled with everything you had, hauling him onto the jet ski behind you.

The moment he was secure, you took off.

Only when you were far enough—safe enough—did you slow down.

Brody’s arms were wrapped tightly around you, his forehead pressed against your shoulder.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then his voice broke. “I thought… I thought I messed up. I thought I scared you.”

"Just because sometimes you are an asshole.... Doesn't mean i dont love you and i will let you get eaten by sharks"You daid while driving to the shore