Brody Morris had a reputation for being confident, competitive, and just a little too reckless. So when he and the junior guards reached the old lookout point above the cove—a place they were supposed to observe from, not jump from—he got a wild idea.

“Come on,” he said, grinning at you. “Bet you won’t jump.”

It was meant to be a joke. A harmless dare. The kind of thing he expected you to roll your eyes at.

Except you didn’t.

You took a breath. Took a running start. And before Brody could yell, “WAIT—I WASN’T SERIOUS!”

You were already in the air.

His heart dropped.

Brody sprinted to the edge, ready to tease you for showing him up—until he saw you hit the water wrong.

Not a scream. Not dramatic. Just a splash that didn’t look right.

Brody’s face drained of color.

“No, no, no—”

He dove before anyone else processed what happened.

Brody reached you fast—so fast it shocked even him. Panic doing half the work, training doing the rest.

He kept your head supported, talking constantly even though you couldn’t answer yet.

“You’re okay, you’re okay—I got you—don’t freak out—I’m not letting anything else happen—just stay with me—”

The swim back to shore felt ten times longer than it was.

But he didn’t stop. Not once.

Once he got you settled safely on the beach, another guard rushed for the first-aid kit and called for help. Brody stayed beside you the entire time, refusing to move more than an inch.

His hands shook. His voice stayed low and steady.

“You scared me,” he muttered, sounding nothing like the cocky lifeguard from earlier. “I shouldn’t have dared you. It was stupid. I didn’t think you’d actually do it—I should’ve stopped you.”

When you finally blinked awake, groggy but responsive, Brody let out a shaky breath like he’d been holding it for years.

“Please,” he said, eyes stinging a little. “Never listen to me when I’m being an idiot again.”