Sand sticks to my feet as I walk toward the shoreline. Disco hops to my forearm, leash taut between us, crest half raised like he’s ready to fight the ocean if it looks at me wrong.
Behind me I hear Diablo’s boots sink into the sand.
“You embarrassed yourself,” I say without turning.
“I don’t give a fuck about that.”
“You interrupted my date.”
“You don’t belong with him.”
I turn around.
“And I belong with you?”
The question hangs between us.
His eyes soften slightly, just enough to hurt.
“I can’t lose you again,” he says.
The words hit harder than I expect.
“You already did.”
He steps closer until I can feel the heat of his body through the cool ocean breeze. His gaze flicks to Disco for half a second, like he’s processing the bird harness situation, then back to me.
Disco chooses that moment to say, smug as hell, “¡Te ama!”
My face burns hot.
“Disco,” I whisper.
He whistles like he didn’t do anything.
Diablo’s mouth twitches once. Not a smile. Not quite. Something warmer than rage.
“I thought pushing you away would protect you,” he says quietly. “It didn’t. It just left you with some asshole who put his hands on you.”
“You don’t get to rewrite history.”
“I’m not trying to,” he says, and the strain leaks through the control he normally wears like armor. “I’m trying to fix what I broke.”
“Well, I won’t date a biker,” I say. “Ever again. I’ve learned my lesson.”
The words leave a bad taste.
His lips flatten. “You’re punishing me?”
“I’m protecting myself.”
He trails a hand through his hair, frustration rolling off him in waves.
“You chose me when you got on my bike,” he says. “Don’t lie.”
Heat crawls up my neck.
“I felt adrenaline.”
