Chapter 1: The Ocean Between Us
Chapter Text
The sun was barely up, casting gold across the Pacific, when Maya Bishop sprinted barefoot across the sand, her red rescue tube bouncing against her shoulder. Morning workouts had always been her sanctuary; it came with adrenaline, control, precision. And if she was being honest, she needed the quiet moments before the beach filled with chaos, sunscreen, and screaming kids.
She dropped her bag by the tower—Tower 3, her tower—and climbed up to the lookout chair like it was second nature. The salt clung to the air, the breeze cool against her sweat.
From here, she could see everything. And almost everyone.
“Maya!”
The melodic voice rolled toward her before the woman behind it did.
Carina DeLuca, the Italian import who’d shown up at the beach a few months ago with qualifications, a killer smile, and a whistle around her neck that didn’t seem to work, mostly because she preferred to talk people down rather than yell at them.
She was all warmth and softness, which Maya considered deeply dangerous.
Maya straightened. “You’re early.”
Carina smiled, tilting her head. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Maya didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed out to the water. “High tide’s creeping in fast. We’ve got riptide warnings, and there’s already surfers trying to pretend they know better.”
Carina followed her gaze, but didn’t stop smiling. “You always talk like you’re in a strategy meeting with God.”
“And you always act like this is a spa.”
Carina leaned her elbows on the rail beside her, brushing close—close enough that Maya caught the scent of coconut sunscreen and something floral beneath. “Because people listen when you make them feel safe, not bark orders like a tiny general.”
Maya’s jaw tensed. “I’m not tiny.”
“You’re a bit tiny.”
Maya turned toward her fully. “I can carry a full-grown man out of the ocean in six-foot swells.”
“I know. I’ve seen it and it’s impressive,” Carina said, eyes dancing. “But being impressive isn’t always the same as being kind.”
Maya narrowed her eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means I like working with you,” Carina said simply. “Even if you pretend not to like working with me.”
Maya’s mouth opened and closed. She didn’t have a comeback for that. She didn’t want to admit how often she looked forward to Carina’s shifts. Or how often she caught herself scanning the parking lot for her little blue Jeep.
Before Maya could respond, their radios crackled to life.
“Tower 3, Tower 5—report of a possible swimmer in distress, north of the pier. Can you get eyes?”
Maya grabbed her binoculars before dispatch could finish. “I’m on it.”
Carina was already beside her, gaze sharp. “I’ll run backup. Want me on the Jet Ski?”
Maya hesitated a second. Carina on a Jet Ski was somehow both endearing and mildly terrifying, but nodded. “Let’s go.”
As they took off, sand flying behind them, Maya felt the familiar rush kick in. The kind that said: you’ve got a job to do.
But somewhere beneath that, quieter and more persistent, was another feeling entirely.
One she wasn’t ready to name yet.
Chapter 2: The Undertow
Chapter Text
The swimmer had turned out to be a teenage boy caught in a rip current—reckless, cocky, and terrified the second he realized the ocean wasn’t playing around. Maya had gotten to him first, slicing through the waves with practiced strokes. Carina had been close behind, guiding the Jet Ski like a pro, despite the way her hair whipped wildly in the wind.
Back on shore, the kid’s mother had cried, the boy had promised never to “be dumb again,” and Maya had barely acknowledged the thanks.
Carina had, of course, given them both warm smiles and comforting words in Italian.
By the time they made it back to Tower 3, the beach was filling with people—coolers thudding into the sand, radios playing bad pop music, towels flapping in the wind like multicolored flags of war.
Maya climbed the tower stairs two at a time, tugging her sunglasses down over her eyes. “Another day, another near-drowning.”
Carina followed, handing Maya a water bottle. “He’ll be okay.”
“Yeah,” Maya muttered. “But what about the next one?”
Before Carina could answer, a voice called up from below.
“Are you two flirting or just dehydrated?”
Maya groaned softly. “Oh God.”
Travis Montgomery, bronzed and smug as ever, leaned against the tower with a fresh acai bowl in hand, already dressed in his red lifeguard gear, a whistle twirling around his finger.
Behind him, Vic Hughes arrived carrying a surfboard twice her size. “If they’re flirting, it’s the most intense flirting I’ve ever seen. Rescue me with your brooding stares, Maya.”
“I don’t brood,” Maya called down.
“You totally brood,” Vic and Travis replied in unison.
Carina just laughed; soft and delighted.
“I’m going on break,” Maya muttered, hopping down from the tower. “You all are unbearable.”
Vic raised a hand. “Say hi to your feelings while you're gone!”
Maya didn’t look back.
---
She walked for a while, toes digging into the wet sand where the tide kissed the shore. It was quieter down by the rocks, where seagulls perched and the water whispered secrets to anyone willing to listen.
She didn’t know when it had started, this thing with Carina. This...pull.
Maybe it was the way Carina always noticed when Maya was spiralling and distracted her with some bizarre Italian idiom. Maybe it was the way her laugh felt like sunlight on skin. Or maybe it was how Carina never made her feel like she had to explain why her walls were up—just gently waited outside them, smiling.
Maya wasn’t used to wanting someone like that. Not again. Not since... well.
She shook the thought away.
---
Back at the tower, Carina stayed behind with Vic and Travis, watching Maya go. She pretended to busy herself with the first aid kit, but her eyes kept drifting back to the shoreline.
“She likes you, you know,” Travis said casually, not looking up from his phone.
Carina blinked. “Pardon?”
“Maya. She likes you. In a ‘doesn’t know how to flirt but wants to carry you out of a burning building’ kind of way.”
Carina gave him a look. “She does not.”
“She so does,” Vic chimed in. “She just doesn't know it yet. Or maybe she does but is emotionally constipated.”
“I heard that,” Maya’s voice cut in as she returned, water bottle half-empty and face slightly redder.
Vic raised both eyebrows. “Oh good. Then stop staring at each other like you’re in a Nicholas Sparks movie and do something about it.”
Maya glared. “Aren’t you late for your shift?”
Vic smirked, but saluted. “As you were, Captain Romance.”
Once she was gone, Maya glanced at Carina—who was still smiling, but not teasingly. Softly.
“Don’t listen to them,” Maya said quickly. “They’re just... they talk too much.”
Carina tilted her head. “And you talk too little.”
Maya froze. Carina reached out, brushing a bit of sand from Maya’s shoulder.
“You’re good at this,” she said, voice quiet. “At taking care of people.”
“I’m not good at feelings,” Maya confessed before she could stop herself.
Carina’s hand lingered, just for a second longer than necessary.
“That’s okay,” she said gently. “I’m very patient.”
Maya felt something shift inside her. Like the tide pulling just beneath the surface.
Chapter 3: Sparks and Saltwater
Chapter Text
The fire cracked and hissed, embers spitting into the night as laughter echoed down the beach.
It had started as Travis’s idea—“morale boosting” and “team bonding,” he claimed, even though Maya was pretty sure it was just an excuse for him to show off his custom marshmallow skewers and curated playlist.
The tower crew had gathered near the south end of the beach, away from the crowds, where tiki torches dotted the sand and logs had been dragged into a loose circle around the flames. Off-duty lifeguards lounged barefoot with open beers, snacks passed around like currency, music pulsing low from someone's speaker.
Maya stood just at the edge of the circle, beer in hand, posture loose but guarded.
She liked the heat of the fire. The dark wrapped around them like a secret. It felt easier here—less sharp. Less watched.
Then Carina laughed, and everything shifted again.
She was sitting cross-legged on a blanket, hair wild, eyes lit up with firelight as she explained some story in animated Italian-accented English about her first time in Venice Beach—something about nearly running over a rollerblader with a rented bicycle.
Even from across the fire, Maya felt it. That pull again. The way Carina’s presence made the air hum.
“She’s looking at you again,” Vic whispered, slipping up beside her with a fresh drink.
“She’s not,” Maya muttered.
“She is. Like you hung the moon. Or at least like she wants to ask you to slow dance next to a beach bonfire. Which, by the way, is adorably cliché, and I am here for it.”
Maya turned her face slightly, trying not to show the colour blooming in her cheeks. “I can’t tell if you’re helping or making this worse.”
“Both,” Vic said with a wink, then skipped off to drag Theo into a marshmallow-roasting contest.
Maya stayed frozen for a beat longer, then finally took a breath and walked toward the fire. She wasn’t sure if she sat down next to Carina or if the space had been waiting for her.
Carina looked up, smile soft. “I was wondering if I scared you off.”
“I don’t scare easy.”
“No,” Carina agreed, “but you run.”
Maya glanced at her, caught off-guard. “I don’t—”
“You don’t run far,” Carina added, not unkindly. “But you do.”
Maya looked at the fire. The way the flames swayed with the wind, constant but unpredictable.
“I’m not used to someone like you,” she said finally.
“Someone like me?”
“Someone who... sees right through me and doesn’t flinch.”
Carina’s eyes flickered, but she didn’t press. She just leaned in a little, their shoulders barely touching now. “You know, in Italy, bonfires are for two things: celebrating love, or burning things you want to forget.”
Maya huffed a laugh. “Which one is this?”
“That depends,” Carina said softly, “on what you’re ready for.”
The fire crackled louder, masking the silence that stretched between them. It wasn’t awkward. It was... full.
Maya opened her mouth to say something—she didn’t know what—but was interrupted by Travis calling out across the circle.
“Truth or dare, lifeguard edition!”
Groans. Laughter. Someone shouted, “We’re not 17, Travis!”
He grinned. “Speak for yourself.”
Vic pointed at Maya. “Bishop’s in. No backing out.”
Maya raised both eyebrows. “Are we seriously doing this?”
Carina leaned over and whispered, just for her, “You scared?”
Maya turned, lips twitching. “I don’t scare easy, remember?”
But her heart was doing that stupid thing again. The stutter-step. The one that only ever showed up around one person.
---
Later, long after the game turned into stories and half the group wandered off toward the water or into the shadows of the dunes, Maya and Carina stayed by the fire, their legs stretched out in the warm sand.
The stars were brighter now. The ocean a lullaby behind them.
“I never do this,” Maya said quietly. “The whole... stay and talk thing.”
Carina looked at her without judgment. “Why now?”
Maya swallowed. “Because when I’m around you, it’s harder to pretend I don’t want to.”
Carina’s expression softened, something flickering behind her eyes.
She reached out, her fingers brushing Maya’s hand—just barely. Not a grab. Not a hold. Just a question.
Maya didn’t pull away.
She didn’t run.
And for now, that was enough.
Chapter 4: The Calm Before the Storm
Chapter Text
The sun rose in shades of rose-gold and lavender, soft waves curling against the shore like the ocean itself hadn’t yet decided if it wanted to be wild today.
Maya was already on the beach before six, running drills with punishing focus.
Sprints. Burpees. Swim-rescue circuits. Again.
And again.
And again.
By the time the rest of the team started to trickle onto the sand for their scheduled training day, Maya had already lapped half of them—literally and emotionally.
She needed the burn. The ache. The repetition.
It was the only thing that shut her brain up.
The only thing that quieted the echo of “Because when I’m around you, it’s harder to pretend I don’t want to.”
Why the hell did I say that.
“Morning, Captain Intensity,” Travis called, tossing his bag near the training cones. “Trying to break a world record for ‘Most Avoidant Behaviour Before Breakfast?’”
Maya didn’t stop jogging. “You’re late.”
“I’m three minutes early.”
“You’re still late in my book.”
“Okay, Coach Bishop,” Vic said, showing up beside Theo, both of them wearing mirrored sunglasses and matching smirks. “Is this training or a recruitment camp for emotionally repressed Olympians?”
Maya ignored them, blowing the whistle she wore around her neck. “Partner drills. Ocean rescue relay. Let’s go, let’s move.”
She didn’t look at Carina. Not once.
---
Carina watched from near the tower, stretching in slow, easy movements, her brow furrowed in that way she got when something didn’t sit right.
Last night hadn’t been a dream.
Maya had stayed.
She hadn’t pulled away from Carina’s hand.
But this morning?
It was like the fire hadn’t happened. Like none of it had
Travis jogged over to her as the others lined up for drills. “Don’t take it personally,” he said softly.
“I don’t,” Carina said, but the words didn’t land with conviction.
“She’s got her own... timeline,” Travis continued. “Which is code for ‘walls made of concrete and unresolved childhood trauma.’”
Carina let out a small, humourless laugh. “I don’t need her to be perfect. I just want her to be honest.”
“Yeah,” Travis said. “But she’s gotta choose that. You can’t rip it out of her. Trust me, I’ve tried. And been yelled at. A lot.”
Carina sighed, watching Maya bark orders across the sand, shoulders coiled too tight.
“She was soft last night,” she murmured, mostly to herself. “Not weak. Just... open.”
Travis patted her shoulder. “That’s her. A walking paradox in designer board shorts.”
---
The training session was brutal but efficient.
Maya was a machine, leading drills like she was preparing for war. Her voice was sharp, her directions unflinching. No one slacked. No one dared.
When it was Carina’s turn to pair up with her for a rescue carry demonstration, Maya kept her tone clinical.
“Wrap the arms under. Stabilize the neck. Keep them horizontal through the surf.”
Their eyes met for a moment as Maya showed the technique—her hands steady, her body close—but there was distance in her eyes.
Like she’d put the fire behind glass.
Carina said nothing.
Not during.
Not after.
But something in her pulled taut. A quiet ache beneath her ribcage.
---
After the session, Theo handed out bottled water as the team collapsed on the sand, sweat-slick and sun-drenched.
“Okay,” Vic wheezed. “That was borderline punishment. Who hurt you, Bishop?”
Maya didn’t answer. She just stared out at the waves.
Carina approached, calm and unreadable.
“I’m heading out early,” she said quietly. “Clinic shift.”
Maya nodded, too fast. “Okay. Cool.”
Carina hesitated. “Maya…”
But Maya didn’t look up.
“Thanks for the drills,” Carina finished, voice measured.
And then she left, her footsteps slow and steady through the sand.
---
Travis gave Maya a look. “You’re going to lose her.”
Maya’s jaw clenched. “She deserves better.”
“Maybe. But she chose you. And you keep pushing her away like you’re trying to win a medal in self-sabotage.”
Maya didn’t answer. She just watched the surf roll in, eyes unreadable.
She didn’t know how to let herself fall.
She only knew how to swim against the current.
Chapter 5: Break the Surface
Chapter Text
The clinic smelled like antiseptic and lavender. A mix she hated. One was clean, sterile, professional. The other reminded her of comfort. Home. The contrast made her chest tighten in ways she didn’t want to unpack yet.
She’d wrapped two sprained ankles, listened to one teenager describe stomach pain that was definitely just nerves before a surf competition, and managed not to check her phone more than seven times.
Maya hadn’t texted.
Carina told herself she was fine with that.
She told herself again when she accidentally used one of Maya’s favorite protein bars as a placebo reward for a crying seven-year-old.
And again when she stood by the clinic window, looking out toward the beach tower she knew Maya would be patrolling.
What scared her wasn’t the silence.
It was how familiar it felt.
The moment when someone starts slipping away without telling you, and you pretend not to notice, hoping that if you just wait—if you’re patient enough—they’ll come back.
She hated how good she was at waiting.
---
By noon, the tide had changed. Literally and metaphorically.
Dispatch crackled through the tower radios, voices high and fast.
“Jet Skier down off Breaker’s Point. No response. CPR in progress.”
Carina was halfway out the clinic door before she realized she hadn’t grabbed her shoes.
She was running barefoot before anyone could stop her.
---
The scene was chaos by the time she reached the shoreline.
Theo was dragging the jet ski up through the surf, Vic and Travis coordinating crowd control, yelling at onlookers to step back. The victim—a woman, late twenties maybe—was stretched across the sand, a shallow gash on her forehead and water bubbling from her lips.
Maya was over her, doing compressions, jaw clenched, face pale but focused. Wet sand clung to her knees. She didn’t look up.
Carina dropped beside her like instinct, checking pulse and breathing—none.
“I’ve got airway!” she shouted, taking over without hesitation.
They moved like they’d done this a hundred times. Because they had.
Maya’s hands didn’t falter. “She was under too long. Unconscious when I pulled her in.”
Carina tilted the woman’s chin, gave two rescue breaths. Water gurgled and spilled from her mouth.
“Come on,” Maya whispered, voice cracking just barely.
Carina kept breathing for her.
Maya kept pumping life back in.
They didn’t stop.
And then—
A cough. A gasp. Water. Movement.
The woman sputtered to life, choking and blinking up at the sky like she wasn’t sure what she’d come back to.
The crowd erupted in relieved noise.
But Carina was watching Maya.
Her shoulders had sagged slightly. Her hands trembled now that they weren’t needed. Her eyes, still locked on the victim, were too bright.
She was unraveling and trying not to show it.
---
Later, after the ambulance had pulled away and the crowd had dispersed, the team stood in a loose cluster, breathless and quiet.
“You okay?” Theo asked gently, nudging Maya’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” Maya said automatically.
Carina said nothing. She just walked up, brushing past the others, eyes soft and unreadable.
“You weren’t fine,” she said, voice low. “But you are now.”
Maya didn’t respond.
“You pulled her out of the water,” Carina continued. “You saved her.”
“I was doing my job,” Maya said.
“You do more than that.”
There was a pause. A long one. Maya’s eyes were locked on the surf, refusing to meet hers.
“You keep pushing me away, Maya,” Carina said, voice quiet but unwavering. “And I let you. Because I thought maybe you needed space. But what you actually need is to stop pretending you don’t feel anything.”
Maya flinched.
Carina stepped closer. “I don’t want to be another name on your list of things you run from.”
“You’re not,” Maya said quickly.
“Then show me.”
The words lingered between them, heavy as the tide.
Carina turned, leaving Maya with her silence and the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.
Chapter 6: The Ripple Effect
Chapter Text
The next day, Maya found Carina at the tower, flipping through the logbook with a furrow between her brows and a bottle of coconut water sweating on the ledge beside her.
Maya hadn’t stopped thinking about what she said.
"You keep pushing me away."
"Then show me."
She hated that she didn’t have a good excuse. No shield. No tactical justification. Just fear and a self-destructive instinct she couldn’t shake.
She ran into raging water for a living, but feelings? Intimacy? That was the real scare.
Still, Maya wasn’t the kind of person to leave something broken. Not without trying to fix it.
She took a breath and stepped closer. “Hey.”
Carina glanced up, calm as always, but Maya saw the guardedness in her eyes now. The protective layer that hadn’t been there before.
“Hey,” Carina said, tone neutral.
“I—” Maya rubbed the back of her neck. “I wanted to say thank you. For yesterday. You were... incredible.”
Carina offered a small smile. “You too.”
Maya exhaled. It was something. A start.
“I’ve been... sorting things out,” she added, her voice lower. “In my head. And I know that’s not fair to you. You didn’t ask to be caught in the crossfire of my—whatever this is.”
“You mean your emotional defence mechanisms rooted in Olympic-level avoidance?” Carina said, one eyebrow raised—but it was almost playful. Almost.
Maya laughed, a little too relieved. “Yeah. That.”
There was a beat between them, like something might soften. A breath away from finally breaking the tension.
And then:
“Excuse me? Are you Maya?”
A voice—soft, unfamiliar, and far too perky—cut through the moment.
Maya turned. The woman from the rescue stood at the bottom of the tower, dressed in a sunhat and flowy beach dress, bandage still across her temple but eyes bright and alert.
The victim.
God. Maya hadn’t even thought to ask her name.
“Uh, yeah,” Maya said, stepping down from the tower. “That’s me.”
The woman grinned. “I thought it was you. I just... I wanted to thank you. Properly. You saved my life.”
Maya gave a tight smile. “Just doing my job.”
“Sure,” the woman said, stepping closer. “But not everyone would’ve done it with such... power. And grace. Like a real-life Baywatch hero.”
Maya chuckled awkwardly. “I’ve been called worse.”
The woman tilted her head, clearly undeterred. “Do you, uh... go out? I mean, when you’re not being amazing and dragging unconscious people out of the ocean?”
Carina’s posture shifted just slightly behind Maya—straightening up, shoulders a little stiffer.
Maya’s mouth opened and then closed.
The woman took a hopeful step forward. “I’d love to buy you a drink sometime. If you’re not, you know, taken.”
Carina didn’t say a word, but Maya could feel her watching. Waiting.
A tiny voice in Maya’s head whispered:
This is the moment. Show her.
She turned, eyes locking with Carina’s. There was no anger there. No bitterness. Just quiet disappointment. And a flicker of something sharp. Jealousy, maybe. Hurt, definitely.
Maya looked back at the woman.
“I’m flattered,” she said carefully. “But I’m not available.”
The woman’s smile faltered, then recovered. “Ah. Got it. Lucky person, whoever they are.”
“Well,” Maya said, her gaze flicking back to Carina. “I’m the lucky one.”
---
Later, when the woman had gone and the beach had quieted again, Maya climbed back up into the tower, half-expecting to find it empty.
But Carina was still there, legs crossed, sunglasses perched on her head.
She didn’t look up right away.
“Just so you know,” Maya started, voice low, “I didn’t say that to make a point.”
Carina finally met her eyes. “I know.”
“But I meant it.”
Carina gave a soft, tired smile. “I know that too.”
Maya sat beside her, close enough for their knees to touch.
“I don’t want anyone else,” she said. “I’m just still figuring out how to let myself have you.”
Carina’s expression softened but she didn’t move closer. Not yet.
“I can wait,” she said. “But not forever.”
Maya nodded. “I’m not asking for forever. Just... a bit of time. And maybe one more chance not to screw it up.”
Carina looked at her for a long moment.
Then: “Dinner. My place. Tomorrow night.”
A pause.
“Don’t be late.”
Maya smiled, relieved, a little stunned.
“I’ll be early.”
Chapter 7: Held Breath
Chapter Text
Maya stood outside Carina’s apartment for a solid thirty seconds before knocking.
She wasn’t nervous. Not really.
She was just...very aware that this dinner meant something. And that she hadn’t stopped thinking about Carina’s hand in hers since the moment it happened.
The door opened before she could overthink it again.
Carina stood there barefoot, curls loosely tied back, sleeves rolled up, kitchen towel slung over one shoulder.
Maya’s brain short-circuited for a second.
“You’re early,” Carina said, smiling like she’d been expecting her this exact moment.
“You said not to be late.”
“I did. I just didn’t think you’d take that as a personal challenge.”
Maya held up the flowers she’d half-sprinted to grab on the way. “Vic once told me these were ‘romantic but not weird.’ I’m not sure I trust her judgment though.”
Carina took them, gently brushing her fingers over Maya’s hand as she did. “I do.”
Oh no, Maya thought. I’m so in trouble.
---
Dinner smelled like heaven—something roasted and lemony with herbs Maya couldn’t pronounce, even if Carina tried to teach her (which she did, with great amusement).
They ate on the small balcony overlooking the ocean, candles flickering between them, soft music playing inside. It was all... almost suspiciously normal.
And yet, Maya had never felt more aware of every heartbeat in her body.
“This is incredible,” she said around a mouthful of whatever-it-was Carina had made. “Are you sure you’re not secretly trying to seduce me with food?”
Carina tilted her head, smiling. “Would it work?”
Maya hesitated, then grinned. “It’s working.”
Carina laughed. “I cook when I care. It’s...my language.”
As the meal wind down, Carina poured them more wine, and Maya leaned back in her chair, gaze slipping from the view to the woman across from her.
“I’m not used to this,” she said quietly. “The calm. The...wanting something that isn’t just survival.”
Carina tilted her head. “And yet, here you are.”
“I’m here because I want to be, but I’m scared because it feels real. And I’m not sure I know how to be good at this.”
The words came out before Maya could second-guess them. She met Carina’s eyes and didn’t look away.
A slow smile spread across Carina’s face.
“You don’t have to be perfect,” Carina said. “You just have to be here.”
Something shifted. Gently, Carina reached across the table, her fingers brushing the inside of Maya’s wrist. Just a touch. But Maya’s pulse stuttered.
Their eyes stayed locked. The world around them went quiet.
Maya leaned in slightly. Carina did the same. Their hands found each other in the middle of the table, tentative and warm, fingers sliding together like it was second nature.
Inches. That’s all that was left between them.
Inches and the sound of their breaths.
Maya tilted her head just enough, heart hammering. She could smell Carina’s perfume—something floral and warm, like sunlight. Her lips parted.
And then—
BANG. BANG. BANG.
“CARINA? Are you decent?! Or should I wait in the hallway and recite Shakespeare?!”
Maya jolted back, nearly knocking over her wine glass.
Carina groaned. “Mamma mia.”
Maya blinked. “What the hell was that?”
“My baby brother,” Carina said, standing quickly. “I may have forgotten to mention...he’s visiting from Italy.”
Maya stared at her. “You definitely forgot to mention that.”
Carina looked sheepish, already heading for the door. “Welcome to the chaos,” she called over her shoulder.
Maya sat back in her chair, running a hand through her hair with a stunned laugh.
The moment had been right there. Inches.
And yet, she wasn’t disappointed.
Because for once, it felt like a matter of when, not if.
Chapter 8: Foreign Currents
Chapter Text
The last thing Maya expected after nearly kissing Carina was to be interrupted by a Shakespeare-reciting Italian in a linen shirt.
But here she was—half-sitting, half-hovering awkwardly in Carina’s living room, still reeling from how close they’d been, while Carina greeted the whirlwind at her door.
“Andrea!” Carina’s voice was a mix of affection and exasperation. “You didn’t even text.”
Andrea, tall and charming with a mischievous glint in his eye, waltzed into the apartment like he owned it. “Because texting ruins the drama. And I come bearing gifts.”
He raised a pastry box like a peace offering.
Maya rose slowly from her seat, smoothing her shirt and trying to school her expression into something that didn’t scream I was two inches from kissing your sister just now .
Andrea spotted her and beamed. “Ah. You must be Maya.”
Maya lifted a hand. “Guilty.”
Andrea extended his. “Andrea DeLuca. Brother. Nuisance. Occasional emergency contact.”
Carina groaned behind him. “Ignore everything he says.”
Andrea studied Maya for a beat—long enough to make her want to fidget—then nodded, apparently satisfied. “So. You’re the one who makes my sister smile when she thinks no one’s watching.”
Maya blinked. “Uh. Maybe?”
“She doesn’t smile like that for just anyone,” Andrea said, popping open the pastry box. “Take it as a compliment.”
Carina rolled her eyes but said nothing. Maya glanced at her, unsure if she should stay or slip out and give them space. Carina caught her eye, as if reading her thoughts.
“You’re not going anywhere,” she said gently.
Andrea passed Maya a croissant, then flopped onto the couch like he lived there. “Don’t worry. I promise I’m only staying for a week. Maybe less if I fall in love with a barista.”
“Please do,” Carina muttered, sipping her wine.
---
Later, after Andrea had disappeared into the guest room muttering about jet lag, the apartment finally felt still again.
Maya stood by the balcony, the night breeze soft against her skin. Carina joined her, wine glass in hand, eyes on the ocean.
“I’m sorry,” she said after a quiet beat. “That wasn’t how I pictured the night going.”
Maya smiled. “You mean it didn’t include sibling sabotage and carbs?”
Carina huffed a laugh. “Exactly.”
They stood side by side in the hush of the evening, their shoulders nearly touching. The buzz of what almost happened earlier still lingered—heavy, unspoken.
Maya turned to her. “Before he showed up… were you going to kiss me?”
Carina didn’t look away. “I was. Were you going to let me?”
Maya’s heart did a weird little flip. “I was thinking about it.”
“Still thinking?” Carina asked, softer now.
Maya didn’t answer right away. She stepped a little closer, close enough to feel the warmth of Carina’s arm against hers. “I want to. I just… I don’t want to mess this up by moving too fast.”
Carina’s expression shifted, tender and steady. “We don’t have to rush. I’ve waited longer for less.”
Maya let out a slow breath, her fingers brushing against Carina’s. “I’m not running.”
“I know,” Carina whispered.
Their hands stayed there, not quite tangled, not quite apart.
It wasn’t a kiss. Not yet.
But it was everything just before.
And that, somehow, felt even more intimate.
Chapter 9: Shadows on the Horizon
Chapter Text
The apartment was quiet again.
Andrea had retreated to the guest room, but Carina knew him too well, he never truly “retreated.” Not when something was still on his mind.
She found him standing in the kitchen ten minutes later, staring into the fridge like it owed him answers.
“You want something?” she asked, leaning on the door frame.
Andrea shut the fridge, holding a jar of olives. “Just midnight inspiration.”
Carina raised a brow. “Is that what you call emotional avoidance now?”
He gave her a look. “You’re one to talk.”
She crossed her arms, but her smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “Fair.”
Andrea leaned against the counter, popping an olive into his mouth. “So. Maya.”
Carina felt the warmth return to her cheeks. “What about her?”
“She’s... intense. But I like her. Thoughtful. Sharp. A little emotionally jammed, but I think that’s your type.”
“She’s trying,” Carina said, softer now. “And that means something.”
Andrea nodded slowly, like he was weighing something heavier than the moment required. “Good. I just... didn’t want to drop this at dinner. You seemed happy.”
Carina’s smile faded. “Drop what?”
Andrea hesitated and that alone made her nervous. He wasn’t one for dramatics unless he enjoyed them. This... wasn’t that.
“She didn’t tell you, then,” he said finally.
Carina’s stomach tightened. “Tell me what?”
He sighed, setting down the jar. “Gabriella. She’s moving to Seattle.”
Silence.
Carina blinked. “What?”
“She got a research placement. Some mental health and trauma recovery program—funded, apparently. Starts next week.”
Carina’s heart thudded, slow and loud.
“At the clinic?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
Andrea gave her a look. “Where else?”
She ran a hand through her hair, half-laughing, half-panicking. “She didn’t call. She didn’t text. Nothing.”
“Well, technically she didn’t have to,” Andrea said, voice calm. “Because she’s not coming for you, Carina. She’s coming for her career.”
Carina turned away from him, walking toward the balcony doors, the night air suddenly too thick. “Yeah, well. She has a hell of a way of choosing timing.”
Andrea followed her but didn’t speak right away. Finally, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted.
Because the truth was: she hadn’t thought about Gabriella in months. Not in the way that mattered. Not in the way that curled its fingers around your ribcage and squeezed the past into your present.
But now?
Now it was like someone had opened a window and let the cold back in.
---
The next morning, Maya arrived early to the tower.
She’d slept surprisingly well. A little restless, but hopeful.
She was going to see Carina. And they were going to finish whatever had started on that balcony. She was sure of it.
Except Carina wasn’t at Tower 3 when she got there. Or at the clinic for her morning rotation. Not even a text.
Maya frowned, pacing the sand like something in her gut knew better than her brain did.
By noon, she finally messaged her.
Maya:
Hey. Everything okay? Haven’t seen you today.
No response.
At least, not right away.
An hour later, as Maya sat at the edge of the tower, watching the tide roll in with increasing impatience, her phone buzzed.
Carina:
Can we talk? After your shift?
Maya stared at the screen. The words were simple. But something about them felt... heavier than usual.
Chapter 10: Where the Heart Doesn’t Heal
Chapter Text
(Carina’s POV)
It had been years since Carina thought about Milan the way she used to.
There was a time when it had felt like home. A pulse she knew. Sidewalks that remembered her footsteps. The hum of hospital corridors she’d memorized like a second language.
And Gabriella had been part of all of that. Inescapably.
She met Gabriella at a conference on trauma medicine and mental health. She’d been brilliant—fierce in a way that didn’t immediately register as warmth. It was the kind of brilliance that demanded attention, that spoke like it had something to prove and rarely apologized for being right.
Carina had found her intoxicating.
And then exhausting.
---
They burned fast. That kind of relationship—the intense ones, where every look is a dare and every silence is filled with the question what now —it never had a soft landing.
They worked at the same hospital. Gabriella in psych consults. Carina in the emergency intakes. They argued in hallways and kissed like it was a rebellion. Some days, Carina couldn’t tell if they were in love or just very good at using each other to feel alive.
But the thing about Gabriella was... she didn’t make space.
Not for compromise. Not for softness. Not for Carina’s version of life, where laughter and language and connection mattered as much as praises and progress.
“You’re too sentimental,” Gabriella once told her after a night spent fighting about some patient’s treatment plan. “You carry feelings like a liability.”
Carina remembered those words more clearly than the goodbye.
Because there hadn’t been a proper goodbye. Just Gabriella packing up her stuff one weekend without warning, telling Carina she’d taken a position in Florence, and that maybe they’d “outgrown whatever this was.”
Carina didn’t cry.
Not until weeks later, when she realized Gabriella had been the reason she’d stopped hearing herself in her own life. That somewhere in trying to hold that relationship together, she’d let herself go quiet.
So, she left.
She applied for the rotation in the U.S. out of instinct. Impulse. Desperation, maybe.
Seattle was supposed to be a fresh start.
It was, until Gabriella became a name in the wind again.
And now... she was coming here.
---
Carina stood by the tower now, looking out at the waves, arms folded tightly over her chest. She didn’t feel the breeze. Didn’t register the sounds of tourists behind her or the gulls screeching overhead.
She only felt the pressure in her ribs. The weight of memories trying to crowd out her present.
“Hey.”
Maya’s voice, gentle and low, pulled her back.
She turned to find her standing at the base of the tower, hesitant. Concerned.
Carina nodded. “Thanks for coming.”
Maya stepped closer. “You okay?”
There were a dozen ways Carina could answer that. None of them easy.
“Gabriella’s moving here,” she said finally. “My ex.”
Maya’s posture shifted. A small flinch, well-masked. “The one from Italy?”
Carina nodded. “She’s going to be working at the clinic. Starting next week.”
Maya didn’t speak right away. She looked out toward the surf, jaw tight, breathing even.
“Did you love her?” she asked quietly.
“I think I did,” Carina said. “But not the way I wanted to be loved back.”
Maya’s eyes flicked to hers. “What does that mean?”
“It means she made me feel like I was too much and never enough at the same time,” Carina said, voice steady but soft. “And I let her. For too long.”
There was a silence then—thick with the weight of things Maya didn’t know how to ask and Carina didn’t want to hide.
“I left Italy because of her,” Carina added. “Because I couldn’t stay in a place that kept her in every corner.”
Maya exhaled slowly, like she’d been holding something in. “And now she’s here.”
“She’s not here for me,” Carina said. “But that doesn’t mean it won’t be hard.”
Maya nodded. “Are you still in love with her?”
“No.” Carina didn’t even hesitate. “But there are pieces of myself I lost when I was with her. I’m still trying to get those back.”
Another silence. Lighter, maybe. But still fragile.
“I don’t know how to compete with that,” Maya said after a beat. “I don’t have a dramatic backstory or a long-distance heartbreak. I just have… this. What we’re building. And I don’t even know if I’m doing it right.”
Carina stepped forward then, closer than before. “I don’t want you to compete with anything. I don’t need a grand gesture. I just need you. Honest. Trying. Showing up.”
“I can do that,” Maya whispered.
Carina gave her a faint smile. “You already are.”
They stood there for a long moment, nothing between them but the sea breeze and the kind of quiet that didn’t ask for words.
Maya reached out, her fingers brushing against Carina’s wrist—tentative but sure.
And this time, they didn’t move closer.
Not yet.
But they didn’t move away either.
Chapter 11: Stings and Storms
Chapter Text
The ocean had been quiet all morning—eerily so. The kind of quiet that tugged at Maya’s instincts and never boded well. Even the gulls were subdued, wheeling low against the overcast sky as if bracing for something.
By midday, the mayhem hit.
Warm onshore winds swept in without warning, carrying with them a bloom of moon jellyfish. Within an hour, the shoreline was dotted with panicked swimmers and beachgoers crying out from the sudden, burning sting of their invisible tentacles. Maya and the rest of the lifeguard team were everywhere at once—pulling kids out of the surf, dousing stings with vinegar, radioing for extra support. And through it all, she kept looking for one person.
Carina.
They hadn't talked about Gabriella since. Not really. After Andrea dropped the bombshell—"She's coming to the clinic, sorella. She took the job"—Carina had shut down. Not cold, not cruel. Just distant. Soft smiles. Safe conversations. Careful space. It had been a week of almosts and maybes, and Maya didn’t know whether to push or hold her breath.
But today wasn’t about them.
Today was about the dozens of people stung by jellyfish tentacles, and the overwhelmed lifeguard tower, and the fact that the local clinic was the only one close enough to handle the surge.
And so Carina did what she always did.
She stepped up.
—
Inside the clinic was a blur of movement. Salt-soaked towels, soft cries from kids, and the sharp tang of antiseptic. Carina moved through it like a wave herself, grounding the chaos with practiced ease. She was focused, gloves on, treating sting after sting, until a familiar voice cut through the flurry.
“Room three, I’ve got it,” the voice said in accented English. Familiar. Too familiar.
Carina froze.
Her hands were mid-wrap around a little boy’s ankle, and her brain went blank for half a second before her body caught up.
She turned.
And there she was.
Gabriella Aurora. A little older, hair tied back in that same no-nonsense ponytail, lab coat over scrubs, and a soft, unreadable expression that hadn’t changed in years.
“Ciao, Carina,” she said, voice quiet but sure. “It’s been a long time.”
Carina didn’t say anything right away. Her heart was hammering against her ribs, a million thoughts slamming into each other.
“I didn’t think you’d be here today,” Gabriella added gently, as if offering an out. As if she hadn’t been the reason Carina had left Italy in the first place.
“I volunteer here,” Carina said, her voice tight but calm. “When I can.”
Gabriella gave a small nod, and for a moment, the clinic disappeared. They were back in that old hospital hallway in Milan. Words unsaid. Promises broken. The pieces of a relationship that had once felt like it could hold the world.
But this wasn’t Milan.
This was now.
“I’ll take room three,” Gabriella said again, and disappeared behind a curtain.
Carina exhaled.
Somewhere on the beach, Maya was still out in the surf. And somehow, in the middle of all this, Carina couldn’t stop thinking about her—her steady presence, her blue eyes, the way her touch had started to feel like home. And now… this. Gabriella.
The past wasn’t just knocking. It had walked through the front door.
Chapter 12: Second Chances
Chapter Text
(Gabriella’s POV)
The clinic in Seattle was newer than she expected.
Sleek walls. Natural light. Everything humming with quiet efficiency, like it hadn’t been worn down by years of budget cuts and bureaucratic rot. It reminded her of Florence, only less romantic. Less personal.
But that was the point.
Gabriella hadn’t come here for romance. Not entirely.
She’d told herself this was about the trauma recovery project. The grant had been competitive, the work important—early intervention protocols for beach-and water-related injuries, merging emergency response with mental health care. Her resume had made her a top candidate. No one had asked about the reasons beneath the surface.
But they were there.
Two reasons, really.
Her career.
And Carina.
—
She’d kept tabs, even if she wouldn’t admit it out loud.
Carina’s name popped up in articles, medical papers, even in the occasional volunteer spotlight newsletter from the clinic. Always smiling. Always warm. Always doing good.
Gabriella never reached out.
Mostly because she didn’t know what she’d say.
But also because she knew what she’d done.
She had been the hurricane. The whirlwind. The person who never stopped moving long enough to make room for anyone else. And when Carina had asked for a little softness, a little stillness—Gabriella had chosen ambition. She hadn’t known how to be anything other than forward motion.
And she had regretted it. Every day since.
When the Seattle offer came, it felt like fate. Or penance. Or maybe just a final shot.
She hadn’t expected to see Carina so soon—bent over a child’s leg, bandaging with the same gentle precision Gabriella remembered from nights in their old Milan apartment, treating Gabriella’s blisters from hiking trips she’d insisted on, even when Gabriella protested.
Carina hadn’t changed much. She still moved with grace and certainty. Still radiated light, even when she wasn’t smiling.
But she’d looked at Gabriella like a ghost.
And Gabriella had realized then that this might be harder than she thought.
—
Later, after the jellyfish chaos slowed and the sting kits were restocked, Gabriella found herself standing in the staff break room, staring into a lukewarm cup of coffee that had been brewed six hours ago.
Her hands were steady. Her heart wasn’t.
She didn’t expect forgiveness. She wasn’t sure she deserved it.
But if she was going to work in the same space, if they were going to orbit each other in this city—she needed to try. To say the words she should’ve said years ago.
She stepped into the hallway and found Carina leaning against a supply cabinet, her braid falling over one shoulder, her expression unreadable.
Gabriella took a slow breath. “Can we talk?”
Carina glanced at her, guarded. “We’re talking.”
“I mean… outside. Sometime soon. Just coffee. I—I don’t want to cause tension here, Carina. I know things are different now. I just… I’d like a chance to explain. To apologize. And maybe ask you something that’s been sitting in my chest for a long time.”
Carina looked at her for a long moment, her expression still unreadable. Then finally:
“Alright,” she said. “One coffee. That’s it.”
Gabriella nodded, trying not to let the relief show too much. “That’s all I’m asking.”
Chapter 13: Quiet Waters
Chapter Text
The tower felt unusually still that morning.
Not quiet in the way the beach sometimes was—early, fog-draped, waiting—but still in the way that meant something was hanging in the air, waiting to land.
Carina had been gone most of the week. Paramedic and clinical shifts. Paperwork. Avoidance, maybe.
They’d exchanged the occasional text—short, polite. Nothing like before.
Maya hadn’t pushed.
She wanted to. God, she wanted to. But every instinct that usually told her to charge in, to confront, to control—something about this felt different.
Felt like the kind of wound you had to let breathe.
So she waited. Sat in the tower. Did her job. Watched the tides.
And gave Carina space.
Not because she didn’t want more.
But because she knew Carina had chosen her. Freely. Without pressure. Without guilt.
—
Across town, Carina sat at a small café tucked between the clinic and the harbor. The sun peeked through gray clouds, painting soft light across the tabletop. Two coffee cups sat between her and Gabriella.
The conversation had started with pleasantries. Careers. The weather. A joke about Seattle’s eternal mist.
But Gabriella didn’t stay surface-level for long.
“I know I hurt you and I’m sorry,” she’d said, voice low but steady. “I know I didn’t say goodbye the way you deserved. I didn’t even see what I was doing until after you were gone.”
Carina had watched her carefully, letting the words come.
“I didn’t come to Seattle to disrupt your life,” Gabriella added. “But I’d be lying if I said part of me didn’t hope… that maybe we could find a way back.”
Carina’s chest tightened.
Not with temptation.
But with the ache of old bruises pressing from the inside out.
“I’m not the same person you left in Milan,” she said finally. “And I don’t think you are either.”
Gabriella nodded slowly, eyes sad. “Maybe not. But I had to try.”
Carina didn’t respond right away. She just picked up her cup, cradling it in her hands. The silence between them wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t sharp.
It was final.
She stood, her chair scraping gently against the patio tile. “Thank you for saying what you needed to say,” she said softly. “But I’ve already started over.”
And then she walked away.
—
The sun was dipping low by the time Carina found Maya sitting on the edge of the lifeguard tower, legs dangling, eyes trained on the surf like she was reading it for secrets.
Carina climbed up slowly, unsure if her footsteps would even be welcome here anymore.
Maya didn’t look at her right away. She just shifted slightly, making space beside her.
Carina sat.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
Waves crashed.
The wind curled around them, salty and sharp.
And then—quietly—Carina spoke.
“I saw Gabriella today.”
Maya didn’t move.
“I had coffee with her. She told me she came here hoping we might have another chance.”
That made Maya’s jaw twitch slightly, but she didn’t interrupt.
Carina went on. “I told her no. That we’re different people. That I’ve moved on.”
Maya finally looked at her.
And Carina—brave, warm Carina—met her gaze without hesitation.
“I didn’t tell her about you,” she added softly. “Not because I’m ashamed. But because what we have… it’s not something I’m ready to explain to anyone else yet. It’s something I’m still figuring out for me. ”
Maya nodded, heart thudding slow and heavy. “Okay.”
“I just wanted you to know,” Carina said, her voice barely above the wind now. “I’m choosing forward. Not back.”
Maya looked out at the ocean, blinking hard.
And then, without a word, she reached out—just her pinky brushing against Carina’s.
Carina’s fingers curled around hers instantly, like they’d always known how to find each other.
No declarations. No grand confessions.
Just presence.
Just patience.
And maybe, finally, the start of something real.
Chapter 14: Sunlight Between Calls
Chapter Text
The group had gathered around the bonfire again.
Same spot. Same driftwood logs. Same terrible playlist curated by Travis.
But this time, the air didn’t feel so heavy.
The jellyfish chaos had passed. The winds had shifted. The tides were calmer. And for the first time in what felt like forever, Maya’s chest didn’t ache with the weight of unsaid things.
She sat with her feet buried in the warm sand, watching Vic attempt to balance a s’more on a tongue depressor while Theo narrated like it was a nature documentary.
Carina was beside her—close, but not clinging. She kept her phone on her thigh, silent and dark, but Maya noticed the way her eyes flicked to it every few minutes.
Because while the rest of them were off-duty, Carina never really was.
Paramedics didn’t get breaks, not really. And even though she wasn’t officially on call, the clinic had a way of reaching her anyway. Late-night messages. Emergency texts. The occasional “Can you swing by? We’re a bit short staffed.”
And Carina always did.
She wasn’t just a lifeguard or a volunteer. She was a damn lifeline.
Maya respected the hell out of that.
Still, she found herself watching Carina more than the flames. The way she laughed without reservation. The way she tucked her legs under herself like she belonged here—finally, fully. Like the past week hadn’t tried to unravel her.
Maya knew that feeling too well.
Because she hadn’t always been this version of herself either.
—
The decision to become a lifeguard hadn’t come in a moment of clarity. It had come in the silence after everything else had fallen apart.
After the medals stopped mattering.
After the headlines faded.
After her father stopped pretending he wasn’t disappointed in everything she wasn’t.
Maya had tried to fill that silence with noise. With competition. With control.
But it wasn’t until she’d taken a job patrolling a beach in Southern California—just for the summer, just to “reset”—that she’d felt something shift.
It wasn’t about winning. It was about watching . Protecting . Being present.
It was about breathing again.
And maybe that’s why this job stuck when nothing else had. Because saving strangers from rip currents gave her a reason to fight that didn’t tear her apart.
And because eventually, it brought her here.
To this beach. To this tower. To Carina .
—
“Okay,” Travis declared, holding up a charred marshmallow like it was a trophy. “New rule. You have to spill a secret or lose your snack.”
Maya groaned. “That’s not a rule. That’s emotional blackmail.”
Travis grinned. “Call it what you want. Spill something.”
Vic pointed a stick at Maya. “I second that. You’re up, Captain Broody.”
Maya glanced at Carina, who looked equally entertained and amusedly curious.
“Fine,” Maya said, leaning back on her elbows. “I used to hate the ocean.”
A few eyebrows lifted.
“Seriously,” she said. “I trained in wave pools. Controlled. Predictable. But the ocean? It was too big. Too wild. I didn’t like what I couldn’t control.”
Carina raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
Maya looked out at the waves, glowing silver under the moonlight.
“Now I think the ocean was the first thing that didn’t ask me to win. Just to survive.”
No one said anything for a beat.
Then Vic softly said, “Damn.”
Theo tossed her a marshmallow. “You win that round.”
Carina’s hand slid toward Maya’s under the blanket they shared, their fingers threading loosely, easily.
Maya didn’t flinch.
—
Carina’s phone buzzed once—an emergency ping—and she glanced down at it quickly, thumb poised to unlock.
Maya looked at her. “You going?”
Carina hesitated.
“Just a med supply drop,” she said. “Clinic’s short-staffed. Again.”
Maya nodded. “You want company?”
Carina smiled, a little tired, a little grateful. “You’d come?”
Maya stood and dusted off her shorts. “I’ve got time. And I’m pretty good with inventory.”
Travis called after them as they left. “Get her back in one piece, DeLuca!”
Carina just laughed and threw a marshmallow at him.
And Maya?
She just followed the woman who somehow, against every odd, had become her safe place in the storm.
Chapter 15: Collision Course
Chapter Text
The clinic after dark felt different.
Quieter. Dimmer. The hum of overhead lights was softer, and the usual shuffle of patients had been replaced by the low thud of supply cabinets and the occasional page over the intercom. Maya had never been here before—not really. She’d always seen it as Carina’s world. A space she respected but never stepped into.
Tonight, though, she was here to help.
The med supply closet was cramped and overly alphabetized, and Carina was already halfway through scanning a clipboard, her hair pulled up in a quick, messy twist.
Maya leaned against the doorway. “So this is where you run to when the beach is too peaceful.”
Carina smirked. “Welcome to the glamorous world of community health care. We’re out of antiseptic wipes, by the way. That’s our crisis for the night.”
Maya stepped forward, reaching for a box without being asked. It felt natural, somehow. Like they’d done this before—even if they hadn’t.
But the moment fractured with a voice from behind them.
“Carina?”
Maya turned at the same time as Carina stiffened slightly beside her.
Gabriella stood in the hallway, lab coat draped over her shoulders, tablet in one hand. She was out of breath—clearly mid-shift—and her eyes flicked from Carina to Maya, pausing just a second too long.
“Oh,” Gabriella said. “I didn’t realize you were... working late.”
“We’re just dropping off supplies,” Carina said quickly, stepping back slightly from where she’d been shoulder-to-shoulder with Maya. Her tone wasn’t cold. But it was careful.
Gabriella nodded, then turned to Maya with a polite smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
Maya stepped forward, extending a hand. “Maya Bishop.”
Something flickered in Gabriella’s eyes. Recognition. Curiosity. Challenge?
“I’ve heard your name,” she said, shaking Maya’s hand briefly. “Lifeguard, right?”
“That’s me,” Maya said, keeping her tone neutral. Professional. But her grip didn’t falter.
“And an Olympian,” Gabriella added, tilting her head slightly. “The staff here mentioned that.”
Maya flicked a glance at Carina, who looked suddenly fascinated by the clipboard in her hands.
“It was a past life,” Maya said simply.
Gabriella smiled. “Still. Impressive.”
There was a silence then. Not long. But long enough.
Carina broke it. “We’ll be out of your way in a minute.”
Gabriella nodded, but her eyes lingered on Maya one beat longer. “Nice to meet you.”
Then she was gone—turning down the hallway, heels clicking like punctuation.
—
After a moment, Maya exhaled, setting down the box she'd been holding.
“Well,” she said, “she’s got good posture.”
Carina laughed—sudden, surprised. “God. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Maya said gently. “That wasn’t awkward at all. Just... quietly terrifying.”
Carina reached for Maya’s hand, squeezing it briefly. “I didn’t plan for that.”
“I figured,” Maya said, giving her a small, teasing smirk. “Though I will say, she’s got the ‘ex with unresolved feelings’ vibe down.”
Carina sighed. “She always did.”
Maya didn’t press. She didn’t have to.
Because while Gabriella’s presence stirred something in the air—something unfinished and complicated—Maya wasn’t shaken.
Not because she felt secure. But because she trusted what Carina had told her.
She was choosing forward.
And that meant Maya.
Even if Gabriella didn’t disappear.
Even if the past never fully let go.
Chapter 16: Heatstroke and Heartbeats
Chapter Text
The heat came in early and settled over the beach like a heavy blanket. By 9 a.m., the sand was already scalding. By noon, it was chaos.
Tower radios buzzed constantly with calls for water, shade, and backup. The ice packs were melting faster than they could be replaced. Families crowded under umbrellas like clamshells, and the hydration station line wrapped halfway to the parking lot.
Maya paced the shoreline, sweat already soaking through the back of her lifeguard shirt, eyes darting from sunbathers to swimmers, alert for the signs she’d been trained to recognize: the unsteady step, the sluggish kid, the panicked mother whose beach day had just turned into a medical emergency.
The lifeguards were stretched thin.
And Carina was on shift with the paramedic unit, which meant Maya hadn’t seen her since early that morning—just a sleepy wave as Carina slipped into her car with a coffee and an apologetic look.
Maya didn’t mind. Not really.
This was part of the deal. They both saved people in different uniforms.
Still, she felt the absence.
—
By early afternoon, it hit: a teenager passed out near the volleyball courts, then an elderly man collapsed by the restrooms. Dehydration. Sunstroke. Adrenaline and heatwaves didn’t mix well.
“Dispatch is rerouting most of the clinics,” Travis muttered, wiping sweat from his brow as he relayed updates. “We’re getting short-term aid from clinic staff and local volunteers.”
Maya barely nodded before her radio crackled again.
“Tower 3, medical assistance requested near the tide line—woman mid-30s, dizzy, collapsed. Responding lifeguard needs a medic.”
Maya grabbed her med pack and ran.
—
The woman—sun burnt, stumbling, half-conscious—was being supported by Vic when Maya arrived. They eased her down gently onto a towel, shielding her with an umbrella.
“She’s overheated, not responsive to questions,” Vic said. “I radioed for clinic help.”
Maya was already uncapping a cold bottle of water when footsteps pounded up behind them.
“I’ve got it,” a voice said.
Maya looked up.
Gabriella.
Of course.
She dropped to her knees beside the woman, hands already moving with practiced calm.
Maya stepped back instinctively—but not far.
Gabriella worked fast, checking vitals, speaking in a low voice Maya couldn’t quite hear. Then: “We need to cool her fast. Can someone grab more water? Ice packs?”
“I’m on it,” Maya said before she could stop herself.
A few minutes later, the patient was more alert, sipping water slowly. Gabriella stayed until she was stable, then turned to pack up her gear.
Only then did she speak to Maya directly.
“You handled that well.”
Maya arched a brow. “I’ve done this before.”
Gabriella gave a small smile. “I can tell. You’re composed under pressure. That’s not always a given.”
There was a pause—just long enough to feel the weight of what wasn’t being said.
“I didn’t think we’d end up working together like this,” Gabriella said.
“Neither did I,” Maya replied. Her tone wasn’t hostile, but it was sharp enough to cut through the humidity.
Gabriella adjusted her bag. “I’m not here to make things harder for Carina.”
“Good,” Maya said. “Because she’s been through enough.”
The words landed between them like a marker.
Gabriella didn’t flinch. But her expression shifted—something between guilt and understanding.
“She’s strong,” Gabriella said. “But she softens around you. I noticed.”
Maya held her gaze. “That’s not a weakness.”
“I didn’t say it was.”
Another beat of silence passed as the wind stirred sand around their feet.
Then Gabriella offered something Maya didn’t expect—honesty.
“I don’t expect her to come back to me,” she said. “But I also know what it’s like to realize too late that you’ve lost something good. I don’t want to be the reason she stops trusting what she’s found with you.”
Maya didn’t move. But something inside her did.
“Then give her the space to figure it out,” she said. “She’ll come to what’s real.”
Gabriella gave a small nod, a flicker of something—respect, maybe—in her eyes. Then she turned and walked back toward the clinic building.
—
Maya stayed there for a moment longer, the heat still pressing down, the waves still rolling in, steady and endless.
And somehow, despite everything, she felt a little lighter.
Because even if this wasn’t easy—none of it—Maya knew what she was holding on for.
And she was ready to fight for it.
Chapter 17: Ghosts in the Water
Chapter Text
(Maya’s POV)
The sun was dipping low, bleeding orange and gold across the sky as the worst of the day’s chaos finally ebbed.
Maya and Vic trudged back toward Tower 3, med packs slung over their shoulders, their uniforms clinging uncomfortably with salt and sweat. The radio was mercifully quiet now, just static and the occasional check-in from the other towers.
Neither of them spoke at first.
It wasn’t until they reached the shade of the tower and Vic collapsed dramatically into the sand that Maya cracked a smile.
“Well, that was hell,” Vic groaned, stretching her arms overhead. “Pretty sure I’ve melted into this beach forever.”
Maya dropped down beside her, letting out a soft huff. “Could be worse.”
Vic peeked over her sunglasses, studying her. “Yeah. You could be getting chased by adoring fans like back in your Olympic days.”
Maya rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. “That was a lifetime ago.”
Vic shrugged, grinning. “Still impressive. Surfer girl turned lifesaver.”
Maya didn’t respond right away. She just stared out at the water, watching the tide pull in slow and steady, like it always did.
“You okay?” Vic asked, softer now. “Seriously.”
Maya sighed, resting her elbows on her knees. “I’m fine.”
Vic waited—giving her that look that said I know you too well for that BS.
After a beat, Maya blew out a slow breath. “I used to think surfing would be it. The dream. The whole damn point of everything.”
Vic shifted closer, listening without interrupting.
“My dad made sure of that,” Maya said, voice low. “From the time I was eight, everything was about training. Focus. Winning.”
She shook her head, the old bitterness stirring under her ribs.
“He used to say feelings were distractions. That if I wanted gold, there was no room for anything messy. No dating. No friendships that weren't strategic. No softness.”
Vic’s face tightened, sympathy threading into her features.
“There was this girl once,” Maya said, almost like confessing a secret. “Jordan. She was on the team. Brave. Brilliant. God, I liked her so much.”
She laughed quietly, the sound scraping her throat.
“But he knew. Somehow he always knew. And he made it clear—one mistake, one ‘distraction,’ and my career would be over before it started.”
Maya dug her toes into the warm sand, grounding herself.
“So I let it go. Pretended it didn’t matter. Buried it so deep I almost forgot how it felt.”
Vic was quiet for a long moment. Then, gently: “You didn’t forget.”
Maya’s throat tightened. “No. I didn’t.”
Another breeze stirred between them, carrying the scent of salt and sunscreen and something almost like freedom.
“I thought I was built for being alone,” Maya admitted. “That it was safer. Cleaner.”
She turned to look at Vic, her expression bare in a way it rarely was.
“Until I met Carina.”
Vic’s answering smile was soft, fierce, proud. “Yeah. She does have a way of... unstitching all the places you thought were sealed up tight.”
Maya let out a soft laugh, blinking against the sting in her eyes.
“She’s the first person who makes me want to try,” Maya said. “Really try. Even when it scares the hell out of me.”
Vic bumped her shoulder, warm and solid. “That’s the thing about people like her. They don’t demand you to change. They just show you how much better it feels when you do.”
Maya closed her eyes for a beat, letting the ocean and the wind and the ache in her chest all settle into something steadier.
Something real.
Vic was quiet for a long moment, just letting them both sit in the glow of the dying sun.
Then she nudged Maya’s arm again, this time more insistent.
“Listen,” Vic said, voice soft but certain, “you’ve spent half your life fighting battles that weren’t yours to fight.”
Maya opened her eyes, turning to her.
Vic went on. “You deserve something that’s not a competition. Something that’s just... yours. If your heart wants Carina, don’t waste time second-guessing it.”
Maya swallowed against the tightness rising in her throat.
Vic leaned in, eyes kind. “Don’t miss your shot because you’re too scared to believe you deserve it.”
The words settled deep, threading into places Maya hadn’t let herself feel in a long time.
She nodded, slowly.
For once, she wasn’t just hearing them.
She was letting herself believe them.
Chapter 18: Family Ties
Chapter Text
(Carina's POV)
True to his word, Andrea didn’t linger.
After three days of crashing at Carina’s apartment, “sampling” all her wine, and offering unsolicited commentary on her decorating choices, he met someone—a girl from a bookstore near Pike Place Market—and promptly disappeared into the romantic maze of the city.
Carina didn’t mind. She had been enjoying the peace. Briefly.
Andrea had always been like that. Restless. Bright. Never able to sit still when the world was still spinning.
She was just starting to enjoy the rare quiet of her apartment again when the front door swung open without warning.
—-
“Ciao, sorellina!” Andrea called out, kicking his shoes into the corner and juggling two shopping bags full of random groceries.
Carina poked her head out of the kitchen, arms crossed. “Did you get the milk I asked for, or just more chocolate croissants?”
Andrea grinned, unrepentant. “Both. I’m a man of the people.”
He dumped the bags on the counter, revealing a mess of semi-useful items: energy drinks, gummy bears, four different kinds of pasta, and yes—one sad-looking carton of milk.
Carina sighed. “You can’t survive on sugar and carbs, Andrea.”
Andrea shrugged. “Watch me.”
She shook her head, biting back a smile as she joined him on the couch. “Honestly, how you’ve made it this far in life is a mystery.”
“Charm,” he said, tossing a gummy bear into his mouth. “And impeccable genetics.”
Carina stole the bag of gummies from him, settling in. “Modesty too, clearly.”
He bumped her shoulder affectionately. “It’s all part of my winning package.”
They bantered for a few minutes longer—teasing, laughing, easy in a way only siblings could be. It felt good. Normal. Like breathing after holding it too long.
“So,” she said, sitting across from him, “you’re back. Does that mean you’ve finally gotten tired of wooing half the population of Seattle?”
Andrea grinned, shameless. “Not tired. Just... reprioritizing.”
He leaned forward, more serious now. “Actually, I’ve been thinking. Maybe it’s time for something more permanent.”
Carina raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, fratello?”
He nodded, looking almost shy for once. “There’s a residency program opening up next year in Seattle. Trauma medicine. Emergency response. I put in a few feelers.”
Something warm unfurled in Carina’s chest.
“You’re serious?”
Andrea smiled. “Dead serious. With Mama and Papa gone now, there’s not much left in Italy.”
She sat back, processing. Andrea—her whirlwind of a brother—wanting roots. Here.
“Besides, I think it would be good for me,” he said. “And... it’d be good to be closer to you.”
Carina felt her throat tighten unexpectedly.
“Just think,” Andrea teased, “I could pop by and steal your food on a regular basis.”
She laughed, brushing a hand over her face to hide how much it meant.
But Andrea wasn’t finished.
“And speaking of things you’re scared to admit you want...” he said casually, “let’s talk about Maya.”
Carina froze. “What about Maya?”
Andrea gave her a don’t play dumb look.
“You’re happy when you talk about her,” he said simply. “I’ve known you my whole life. You don’t look at people like that unless it’s real.”
Carina fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. “It’s complicated.”
“It’s only complicated if you make it that way,” Andrea said. “She’s not your past, Carina. She’s standing right in front of you. And you’re the one deciding whether or not to reach out.”
Carina closed her eyes for a second, breathing in the familiar, slightly judgmental wisdom only a brother could deliver.
“I’m scared,” she admitted finally.
Andrea smiled, softer now. “Good. Means it matters.”
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You’ve spent so much of your life being the one who fixes things. Who waits for people to catch up. Maybe it’s time you stop waiting and start choosing.”
Carina blinked against the sudden sting behind her eyes.
“You deserve this,” Andrea said. “You deserve someone who looks at you like you’re the wave they’ve been trying to catch their whole damn life. Go get your girl, sorellina. Before someone else does.”
Carina let out a shaky laugh.
He squeezed her hand once before standing up, stretching with a groan.
“I’m flying back to Italy tomorrow,” he added casually. “For now. Gotta wrap up a few things before I can make this move official.”
Carina smiled at him, heart swelling with a hundred emotions at once. “I’m glad you’re coming back.”
Andrea winked. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
—
Carina stayed sitting there after he left the room, heart hammering against her ribs.
Maya.
Sunburned, stubborn, brave Maya.
Maya, who smiled like she didn’t know how beautiful it made her.
Maybe it was time.
Maybe it had always been time.
Chapter 19: Ripples and Resolutions
Chapter Text
The beach was deceptively beautiful that morning.
Blue skies. Soft surf. Kids laughing as they darted in and out of the shallows. The kind of postcard-perfect day that made it easy to forget how fast everything could change.
Maya and Carina worked side-by-side, posted at Tower 3 again for the first time in weeks. There was an ease to it—routine but steady—like finding your way back into a rhythm you didn’t know you missed.
They moved like they always did: quick glances, small smiles, a shorthand built from long hours and longer looks.
For the first time in days, Maya thought maybe—just maybe—they were finally finding their way back.
Then the radios crackled.
—
It happened fast.
A call for assistance south of the beach. Two swimmers caught beyond the break. Witnesses said they were struggling, going under and resurfacing erratically.
Maya grabbed her rescue board. Carina was right behind her.
By the time they reached the scene, it was worse than the call had initially suggested.
Two middle-aged adults—tourists, probably—had been pulled out too far by a sneaky rip current. The woman floated half-conscious, barely keeping her head above water. The man wasn’t moving at all.
Maya dove first, cutting through the waves with mechanical precision, reaching the woman. She kept murmuring reassurances— Stay with me, stay with me — as she secured her onto the rescue board.
Carina and Theo reached the man, dragging his limp body onto a board. Chest compressions started right there on the shoreline, Carina’s voice clear and clipped as she issued orders Maya barely registered.
The beach crowded fast. Bystanders gasping. Kids crying.
The woman—later, they would learn her name was Helen—had been celebrating her thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. They had been here for a week because her husband, David, had promised her they’d find “one last adventure together.”
Instead, he was now being rushed to the ICU, unconscious, his fate uncertain.
And somehow, the sun kept shining.
—
They gathered in the breakroom after, the lifeguard team worn down and silent.
Group therapy wasn’t a formal thing, but today, it became one.
Theo passed out water bottles, setting them down on the table with more care than usual. Vic paced near the door, bouncing a tennis ball off the wall and catching it again. Travis stared into the middle distance like he was trying to solve a math problem only he could see.
Maya sat with her elbows on her knees, staring at her scuffed-up board.
Carina was close, but not touching. Not yet.
Finally, Theo spoke, voice hoarse. “We did everything we could.”
Vic caught the ball midair, her voice sharper than usual. “Doesn’t feel like enough.”
“It never does,” Travis said quietly. “Even when it is.”
No one moved for a long beat.
Maya exhaled slowly. “She‘s alive,” she said. “Helen lived because we were there.”
Theo nodded. “David’s still fighting.”
Travis added, “Their daughter’s flying in. She said they wanted to explore the world, said they wanted to prove that even after thirty-five years together, they could still have a big, stupid, romantic adventure.”
Maya closed her eyes briefly, feeling the words land heavy.
“That’s the thing about this job,” Vic said, softer now. “You get the best and the worst moments. Sometimes in the same damn hour.”
Carina finally spoke, her voice steady. “We can’t control the ocean. We can only meet it where it’s at.”
The room stayed hushed.
Heavy.
Grieving.
But not broken.
Theo shifted, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. “David made it out of the water. That’s a start.”
“And Helen’s breathing because you moved faster than lightning,” Travis added, looking at Maya.
She swallowed hard, feeling the heat of the unshed tears she wouldn’t let fall.
They saved who they could.
They honoured who they couldn’t.
And somehow, they kept going.
It was messy and imperfect and deeply, painfully human.
And today, it was enough.
—
Later, needing something—anything—to anchor them back to each other, Theo clapped his hands.
“Alright. Pub night. Non-negotiable. First round’s on me.”
Vic threw her hands up. “Seconded! Preferably with fries the size of my face!”
Even Carina managed a small smile.
Travis grinned, tired but genuine. “Pub night it is.”
Because you didn’t just carry grief alone.
You carried it together.
—
The pub was loud, crowded, familiar.
Pints were ordered. Burgers demolished. Shots lined up just because someone dared someone else to do it.
It didn’t erase the day.
But it softened the edges.
Maya leaned back in the booth, watching the team laugh and rib each other, and felt something she hadn’t in a long time.
Hope.
Carina was sitting beside her, one leg pressed lightly against hers under the table, the contact small but grounding.
Maya turned her head—and found Carina already watching her.
It wasn’t a heated look. It wasn’t desperate.
It was steady. Sure.
Like she’d made a decision.
—
Later, when the group was starting to leave—people grabbing coats, fumbling for rides—Travis swung by their table, tipsy and cheerful.
“Hey, Bishop,” he said, slinging an arm around her shoulders. “Need a cab buddy? I’m heading toward your neighborhood.”
Maya opened her mouth—because yeah, that would make sense—but before she could speak, another voice cut in.
“She’s coming home with me.”
Carina’s voice.
Clear. Firm.
Maya blinked.
Travis grinned wide, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Well, well. Looks like my services are no longer required.”
Vic whooped from across the room, banging her pint on the table.
But Maya barely heard them.
Because Carina had already slipped her hand into hers under the table.
Maya tightened her grip instinctively—grateful, stunned, ready.
They stood together, gathering their things without fanfare, and left the pub side by side.
The cool night air hit them, sharp and clean.
Maya glanced at Carina as they walked—really looked at her—and felt it deep in her bones:
This was it.
No more waiting.
No more wondering.
Carina squeezed her hand once and didn’t let go.
Chapter 20: No More Waiting
Notes:
🔥 The slow burn is OVER — Maya & Carina are finally together! 😭💘 It’s happening, people. You waited, you suffered, and now you feast! #SlowBurnNoMore
Chapter Text
The cab ride back to Carina’s apartment was quiet.
Not heavy, not awkward.
Just... charged.
Maya sat close enough to feel the heat from Carina’s thigh against hers, her hands resting tensely in her lap. Every bump in the road felt amplified, every glance between them threaded with something waiting to snap loose.
Neither of them said a word.
They didn’t need to.
The unspoken promise hung between them, heavy and bright as the city lights flashing by the window.
When the cab finally pulled up to Carina’s building, Maya paid the driver without thinking, her hands trembling slightly as they climbed out.
Carina led the way up the stairs, unlocking the door with a deliberate calm Maya could tell was hiding the same wildfire burning in her own chest.
The door clicked shut behind them.
For a beat, they just stood there—two feet apart, breathing the same charged air, hearts pounding in sync.
Then Carina stepped forward.
And everything broke open.
—
The first kiss was a crash—a heated, desperate collision of mouths and hands, Maya backing Carina up against the door without realizing she was moving. Carina's fingers tangled in Maya’s hair, pulling her closer, anchoring them both against the rush.
Maya kissed her like she’d been waiting a lifetime.
Because maybe she had.
Carina pulled back just enough to breathe, her forehead pressed against Maya’s. Her hands cupped Maya’s face, steady even though Maya could feel her racing pulse under her skin.
“I don’t want to wait anymore,” Carina whispered, voice wrecked and raw.
Maya’s hands slid down to Carina’s waist, feeling the tremble in her muscles. “Me neither.”
The image of Helen gasping for breath on the sand, David fighting for life in a hospital bed, flashed unbidden across Maya’s mind.
Life was so damn fragile.
And love—real love—was too rare to waste.
“I don’t want to wonder,” Maya said hoarsely. “I don’t want to be scared anymore.”
Carina kissed her again—softer this time, lingering, the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.
“We’re here,” Carina murmured between kisses. “We’re here. Now.”
Maya let out a shaky laugh against her mouth. “God, you’re dangerous.”
Carina smiled—a wicked, breathtaking thing—and tugged her toward the bedroom without a word.
—
Clothes were shed in a trail, each piece falling away like armor they didn’t need anymore.
Maya mapped the planes of Carina’s body with reverent hands, kissed every freckle and scar like a prayer. Carina answered with slow, deliberate touches that made Maya feel worshipped—known, not just wanted.
When they finally came together, it wasn’t frantic.
It was deep. Soul-deep.
Hands explored. Lips traced promises into skin.
Carina whispered Maya’s name like it was sacred, and Maya gasped Carina’s in return like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.
Maya felt herself break open under Carina’s touch—and for once, it didn’t scare her. It made her feel whole.
Their bodies moved together like tides drawn to the moon—inevitable, unstoppable, right.
And when they finally collapsed together, tangled in each other’s arms, Maya couldn’t tell where she ended and Carina began.
—
The next morning, sunlight streamed through the gauzy curtains, painting soft glows across the sheets.
Maya stirred first, blinking sleepily, her body deliciously sore in ways she hadn’t felt in too long.
Carina was wrapped around her, bare legs tangled together, one hand resting possessively over Maya’s waist even in sleep.
For a long, blissful minute, Maya just lay there, listening to Carina’s slow, even breaths.
Safe.
Home.
Maya smiled against the pillow, overwhelmed by how easy it felt. How right it felt.
Carina shifted, her hand sliding up to brush Maya’s ribs, and then blinked awake.
Their eyes met.
And in that soft, sleepy, unguarded moment—everything was clear.
Carina smiled, still half-dreaming. “Buongiorno.”
Maya smiled back, pressing a kiss to Carina’s forehead. “Morning.”
They stayed wrapped together, breathing the same air, sharing the same space, for what felt like forever.
Finally, Carina whispered, “Still scared?”
Maya tightened her arms around her. “Yeah. But not of this.”
Carina’s smile deepened, and she pressed a slow, lingering kiss to Maya’s shoulder.
“Good,” she murmured against her skin. “Because neither am I.”
Maya closed her eyes, holding her closer, breathing her in.
Carina shifted again, pulling Maya even closer, and whispered so softly it made Maya’s chest ache:
“ Bambina. ”
Maya froze for a moment—not out of fear, but wonder.
Carina’s voice was rich with affection, the word a soft, beautiful thread of intimacy wrapping around her heart.
“Bambina?” Maya echoed, a small, stunned laugh escaping.
Carina tucked her nose against Maya’s hair, smiling against her scalp. “Mmhmm. My little stubborn one.”
Maya blushed so hard she could feel it burn from her ears to her chest.
“I’m not little,” she protested weakly.
Carina chuckled—a sound like sunlight. “No. But you are mine now.”
Maya didn’t argue.
Because for once, it was a truth she wanted to live inside forever.
Chapter 21: Sunlight and Soft Things
Chapter Text
Carina stood at the stove, wearing nothing but Maya’s hoodie from last night—sleeves comically short, hem barely brushing her thighs—humming to herself as she flipped something in a pan.
Maya leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee and trying to act casual, even though her heart kept doing this weird fluttery thing every time Carina turned slightly and that hoodie rode up just enough to be distracting.
“I can feel you staring,” Carina said without turning.
“I’m not staring,” Maya said, staring.
Carina looked over her shoulder with a grin that was definitely illegal before 9 a.m. “Liar.”
Maya walked over and wrapped her arms around Carina’s waist from behind, burying her face in her shoulder. “Okay, fine. I’m completely, shamelessly staring.”
“Understandable,” Carina said, flipping the eggs like a show-off.
“You’re absurd,” Maya mumbled, lips brushing against the curve of her neck.
“You’re soft,” Carina teased.
Maya groaned. “You take that back.”
“Nope.” Carina reached behind her and tugged Maya even closer. “You’re soft and sweet and sleepy and totally in love with me.”
Maya paused. Blinked.
Carina froze for a split second. “I mean...”
Maya cut her off with a kiss to the cheek. “Don’t worry. I’m completely, shamelessly in love with you too.”
Carina turned in her arms, eyes wide and soft. “Really?”
Maya smiled, brushing their noses together. “Really.”
—
After breakfast — which involved stolen bites, maple syrup kisses, and Maya dropping a piece of French toast because Carina bit her earlobe on purpose — they retreated to the couch for another round of morning heat.
Maya curled into Carina’s side, legs tangled, her cheek resting on Carina’s chest.
For the first time in months, maybe years, Maya felt quiet inside. Like she didn’t have to prove anything or brace for impact.
She could just... be.
—
Until she remembered Travis.
And Vic.
And the pub.
She sat bolt upright.
“Oh my god.”
Carina blinked. “Hmm?”
“They know. ” Maya’s eyes were wide. “Travis offered me a cab. Vic literally saw us leave together. They definitely know what happened last night.”
Carina bit her lip, fighting a laugh. “So?”
“So they’re going to kill me. Or worse. Talk to me. ”
Carina leaned back against the couch, completely unbothered. “They’re our friends. They’ll be happy for us.”
“They’ll be relentless, ” Maya groaned. “Travis is going to bring it up every time I so much as blink at you.”
“They’ve probably already started a group chat,” Carina said thoughtfully. “Vic probably named it.”
“God.” Maya covered her face. “It’s going to be something awful. Like ‘Operation Lifeguard Love’ or—no—‘Tower Three Thirst.’”
Carina burst out laughing. “I love that.”
Maya peeked out from behind her hands. “You’re evil.”
Carina kissed the tip of her nose. “And you’re adorable when you panic.”
“I’m not panicking.”
Carina raised an eyebrow.
“I’m... nervously forecasting future embarrassment.”
“Sure, bambina. ”
Maya groaned. “That name is going to haunt me, isn’t it?”
Carina just smiled. “Forever.”
—
The rest of the day unfolded like honey—slow, golden, warm.
They took a long walk through Pike Place, fingers laced. Got pastry from a vendor who winked knowingly at Carina. Shared a gelato. Teased each other. Snuck kisses in stairwells.
They didn’t talk about what came next.
Not yet.
Because for now, this was enough.
Time.
Touch.
Tenderness.
Maya watched Carina talk to a florist about buying herself tulips and thought:
This is what it’s supposed to feel like.
Not fear. Not hiding. Just her.
Chapter 22: Heat on the Face
Chapter Text
If Maya had ever once wished for invisibility powers, it was now.
Walking up the beach toward Tower 3 with Carina beside her, breeze in her hair, coffee in hand, she could feel the attention. Even from a distance, she spotted Vic casually turning her head the second she saw them. Theo elbowed Travis, who—traitor that he was—actually clapped his hands in excitement like he’d just spotted a celebrity.
“They’re watching,” Maya muttered behind her travel mug.
“They’re adoring, ” Carina corrected, smug.
“I’m going to melt into the sand.”
Carina grinned and slid her fingers into Maya’s, swinging their hands between them like they were just two normal people having a casual stroll and not the talk of the tower.
“Oh good,” Carina said. “You’re already warmed up for the blushing.”
Maya groaned. “Please. Please do not feed them.”
But it was too late. The second they stepped into earshot, the swarm closed in.
—
“Look who decided to emerge together!” Vic sang, dramatically shading her eyes with one hand like she was staring into the sun. “Oh wait, that’s just the glow coming off Maya’s face.”
“She’s literally red,” Travis added gleefully. “Like, lifeguard-uniform red. Incredible.”
Theo fake-whistled. “So... did Tower Three live up to the reputation?”
Maya opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down at the sand like it might swallow her. “I hate all of you.”
Carina beamed, utterly unfazed. “She doesn’t mean that. She’s just shy when she’s freshly adored.”
Vic gasped. “ Freshly adored? Oh my God.”
Travis pretended to faint. Theo gave Carina a slow, respectful nod. “You’re a legend.”
“I know,” Carina replied cheerfully, adjusting her sunglasses.
Maya was positive her face had bypassed “blushing” and reached core meltdown.
Still, when Carina gently bumped her shoulder and whispered, “bambina,” under her breath, Maya couldn’t help but smile. She might’ve been dying on the outside, but on the inside, she was completely, hopelessly gone for her.
—
The chaos died down when someone cleared their throat near the base of the tower.
A new voice—firm, smooth, and unmistakably in charge.
“All right, that’s enough flirting and fainting. Let’s get back to work.”
Everyone straightened instinctively as a tall, well-built man approached, his expression professional but warm. Short-cropped sandy hair, sharp eyes, and a confident posture that screamed head lifeguard even before he reached them.
“Ripley!” Theo grinned, stepping forward for a handshake. “Didn’t know you were back.”
“I got in last night,” Ripley replied, clasping his shoulder. “Training in San Diego ran long.”
Carina leaned toward Maya. “That’s Lucas Ripley?”
Maya nodded. “Head lifeguard. He’s kind of a legend.”
Lucas looked over the group, assessing with an easy calm. “Looks like the beach didn’t collapse while I was gone. Good work.”
Vic whispered loudly, “Only emotionally.”
Lucas smirked, but didn’t comment.
“I’ve got a few updates before you start the morning patrol,” he continued, tone shifting to business. “First—we’ve got a batch of new recruits starting in the coming weeks. Most of them are seasonal hires, but one or two are looking to join long-term. I’ll expect you all to set the standard.”
There were murmurs of interest, some eye-rolls from veterans, and at least one very audible groan from Travis.
“And second—we’ll be naming a new Lead Lifeguard for this sector by the end of the month.”
That silenced everyone.
Maya’s spine straightened instinctively. Her stomach twisted.
Lead Lifeguard.
That was the position. The one above the senior-level guards. The one that came with leadership duties, scheduling input, and a hell of a lot of respect.
Lucas didn’t elaborate further, just nodded. “We’ll be observing performance as usual. I’ll be rotating between towers for the next few days.”
He turned to head down the shoreline, then paused, looking back over his shoulder.
“Also,” he added with a faint grin, “try not to set the place on fire while I’m gone.”
—
The second he was out of earshot, Travis leaned in, wide-eyed. “Okay but... who do you think it’s going to be?”
Vic said, “It has to be Maya, right? She’s basically the ocean’s personal trainer.”
“I don’t know,” Theo said with a smirk. “Carina could be promoted too. She has been running the beach and stealing hearts.”
Maya tried not to visibly panic. But the idea of being up for the role — or worse, in competition for it — sent her brain spiraling.
She liked this job. A lot. But leadership came with scrutiny, decisions, pressure. And... did she even want it?
Or had she just been trained to chase every gold star out of habit?
Carina must’ve sensed the shift, because she leaned closer, her voice low and just for her. “Hey. Don’t get in your head.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
Maya looked at her.
Carina smiled softly. “Whatever happens—title or no title—you’re already my lead.”
Maya snorted. “That was awful.”
Carina grinned. “But it worked.”
Maya rolled her eyes, heart already calming. “Yeah. It did.”
Chapter 23: Against the Pull
Chapter Text
The wind picked up around midday — not in gentle gusts, but in sharp, chaotic bursts that whipped sand into eyes and turned the shoreline into a shifting, unpredictable battlefield.
Ripley had returned to the tower earlier, arms folded as he watched each team cycle through their rotations, offering notes here and there with the quiet precision of someone who’d seen everything.
Maya tried to focus on her patrol, but she could feel him watching. Not in a threatening way. Just... assessing.
Still, it made her spine stiffen.
She didn't mind pressure. She’d trained under it her whole life. But this — being evaluated for something she wasn’t even sure she wanted — made her skin buzz.
Then the radio snapped to life.
“Tower Two to all towers — multiple swimmers caught in a rip near the north. We’ve got at least five, maybe more.”
“Current’s pulling harder than expected. Requesting immediate backup.”
Maya was already moving.
She barely glanced back when Ripley grabbed a board and joined her, running side by side down the beach as the wind roared louder in their ears.
—
The ocean was chaotic.
Strong crosswinds carved jagged rip lines between waves. Maya spotted a father clinging to a flotation ring, two kids crying nearby, a teenager struggling to hold her little brother above water. There were too many arms flailing, too many faces dipping below the surface.
Maya didn’t hesitate.
“Take the far left pair!” she shouted to Ripley. “I’ve got the family in the middle!”
Ripley nodded, already diving in.
Maya powered through the surf, instincts snapping into place like a second skin. The moment her hands closed around the nearest child’s arm, the fear dropped away. She moved like she was born for this — steady, fast, clear-headed.
She got them all out.
Barely.
When she hit the shore, coughing seawater and half-carrying the dad who’d gone under twice, Ripley was right behind her, hauling the teenager out with practiced strength.
They dropped to the sand in tandem, breathless.
The beach behind them exploded into motion—Vic and Theo administering first aid, Carina rushing in from the tower with med packs, Travis directing the crowd away from the scene.
Ripley turned to Maya, soaking wet, eyes sharp.
“You didn’t freeze,” he said.
Maya blinked. “What?”
“You didn’t hesitate. You saw the whole field. Prioritized. Communicated. Led.”
Maya stared down at her scraped-up knees, heart still pounding.
“Thanks,” she said.
Ripley studied her for a moment longer, then gestured for her to follow as they walked a few steps down the beach, out of earshot of the others. His tone shifted—less instructor, more mentor.
“You have good instincts,” he said. “Not just in the water. With your team. You read people fast, move faster. That’s not something they teach in training manuals.”
Maya glanced at him, uncertain. “Is that why you’re watching me?”
Ripley didn’t deny it.
“I’ve been gone a while,” he said. “Things change. People grow. I needed to see with my own eyes who’s ready to step up.”
He looked at her pointedly.
“You didn’t disappoint.”
Maya’s stomach twisted, unsure whether to be flattered or terrified.
“But leadership isn’t just about high-pressure moments,” Ripley continued. “It’s about consistency. Taking ownership. Being the calm in the storm and the one who picks up the pieces after.”
He gave her a brief, knowing smile.
“You’ve got the potential, Bishop. But you need to believe that what makes you good in the water doesn’t disappear when you step out of it.”
Maya didn’t respond right away. That sentence—so simple—rattled through her chest like thunder.
“You ever doubt yourself?” she asked quietly.
Ripley gave a short laugh. “Every damn day. Anyone who says otherwise is lying or reckless.”
He started to walk back toward the group, then tossed a final line over his shoulder.
“Let me know when you're ready to stop doubting and start leading.”
—
Later, after the beach calmed and the sun dropped lower in the sky, Maya sat on the edge of the tower, damp towel around her shoulders, watching the tide shift again like it always did.
She didn’t hear Carina approach until she felt the hand on her shoulder.
“Hey,” Carina said softly, sitting beside her. “You were incredible today.”
Maya shrugged. “It was just a rescue.”
“No,” Carina said. “It was leadership.”
Maya didn’t say anything.
Carina nudged her gently. “Talk to me.”
Maya bit the inside of her cheek. “What if I’m only good when everything’s falling apart? What if I only know how to lead when it’s life or death?”
Carina tilted her head. “That’s when it matters most.”
“But the other stuff — the structure, the admin, the people management — what if I mess all of that up?”
Carina reached for her hand. “Then you’ll learn. Like everyone does.”
Maya blinked down at their hands, her throat tight.
Carina leaned in, voice soft but sure. “You told me to stop waiting. To go after what I want. You were the one who pushed me. So now it’s my turn.”
She cupped Maya’s face gently. “Don’t let fear decide what you do with your fire, bambina. ”
Maya swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”
“I think,” Carina said, smiling, “you already are. You just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.”
And somehow, that made Maya breathe a little easier.
Chapter 24: Through the Dark
Chapter Text
The sun had long dipped below the horizon, and the beach had transformed into something rough, more unpredictable. Wind tugged at the shoreline, pulling waves into erratic, foamy peaks. The last shift had been long, made longer by the silent knowledge passing between the lifeguards: Ripley was watching.
He hadn’t said much when he returned earlier in the day, just moved from tower to tower with a clipboard and that assessing, unreadable gaze. One by one, he’d asked them questions—about protocol, judgment calls, scenarios they’d faced. When he finally made it to Maya’s tower, she’d felt her spine straighten automatically.
“You always this still when you’re thinking?” he asked after a long pause.
Maya blinked. “Only when I’m trying not to overthink.”
He chuckled at that. “Fair. You mind if I watch your shift for a bit?”
She’d nodded, nerves flaring. But he didn’t critique, didn’t micromanage. Just observed. And then left with a quiet, “We’ll talk soon.”
But there hadn’t been time for talk.
—
The emergency call came in close to 9 p.m.
A distress flare spotted off the northern inlet. A small fishing boat—likely recreational—had capsized just beyond the breakers. Rip currents and rising swell made the location dangerous. The Coast Guard had been notified, but they were fifteen minutes out. The waves didn’t have fifteen minutes.
Lifeguards mobilized fast, slipping into wetsuits, grabbing torches, jet skies, rescue boards, radios. Maya barely registered her own movements—everything automatic, learned, muscle memory wrapped in adrenaline.
“Maya.” Ripley’s voice cut through the dark like a flare of its own.
She turned to him, wetsuit half-fastened.
“You’re calling this one,” he said.
She blinked. “What?”
“I’ll back you up from the beach. But you’re leading.”
A beat. Then she nodded. “Understood.”
—
The night was black and breathing, the ocean growling like something alive.
Maya led two teams—hers to sweep north toward the distress point, the other to scan for survivors or floating debris along the tide lines. She assigned roles quickly, clearly, no hesitation in her voice even though her heart felt like it might choke her.
The first body was spotted within five minutes—clinging to an overturned cooler, half-submerged. The second was tangled in seaweed, further out. The third... they almost missed him.
Maya’s lungs burned as she dove again and again, light slicing through water made murky by churned sand. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t.
When they pulled the last man to shore, the team converged like clockwork—compressions, oxygen, radios blaring updates. The Coast Guard arrived just as Carina did, summoned from her shift, her eyes scanning the scene until they found Maya, soaked and shaking, but steady.
—
It wasn’t until the tide began to fall back that Maya realized Ripley was next to her again.
“You’ve got a hell of a presence in the water,” he said.
Maya exhaled, adrenaline still pounding. “I just… did what needed to be done.”
He nodded slowly. “Exactly.”
He was quiet for a moment, then added, “When I first met you, I thought you were all edge. All competition. But tonight—what you did out there—it wasn’t about being first. It was about being right. You led. Not just with skill, but with heart.”
Maya looked at him, throat tightening. “You really think I’m ready for something like Lead?”
“I think you already are,” he said. “But it’s not just about what I think.”
She frowned. “Then what?”
Ripley gave a small smile. “You need to believe it, too.”
—
Later, in the hushed quiet of the beach station, Maya sat alone for a moment, still wrapped in a thermal blanket, staring out at the moonlit surf.
Carina found her there.
“You scared me tonight,” she said, dropping to sit beside her. “But god, I’ve never been more proud.”
Maya leaned into her. “It was chaos. But it felt... right. Like I knew what I was doing. Like I could do it.”
Carina tilted her head, smiling. “That’s because you can . You just needed to see it.”
Maya didn’t speak, just closed her eyes and let Carina’s warmth settle against her, letting the truth sink in like the tide—slow, steady, undeniable.
She wasn’t just surviving anymore.
She was leading.
Chapter 25: Driftwood and Direction
Chapter Text
The morning sun was lazy, soft across the ocean as if the world had decided to take a breath.
Maya and Carina did the same.
They’d packed up early—coffee in hand, a worn blanket stuffed in Maya’s bag, and no particular agenda except escape. After the chaos of the nighttime rescue, Ripley’s nod of approval, and the haunting near-losses they’d pulled from the sea, the quiet was a balm.
Maya drove them along the winding coastal highway until the town thinned out and the sand grew wilder. A small, secluded patch of beach—mostly driftwood, tidepools, and silence—opened before them like a secret.
They walked barefoot in the surf, hands brushing, not talking much at first.
But silence with Carina didn’t feel empty. It felt like something earned.
Finally, Maya threw their blanket down on a patch of sun-warmed sand, flopped beside it with a heavy sigh, and said, “I can’t stop replaying last night.”
Carina lay next to her, propping her head on her hand. “Because of the rescue?”
Maya nodded. “Because of... everything. The way it all happened. The darkness. The yelling. The decisions I had to make. It didn’t feel brave. It felt like I was constantly one second away from screwing up.”
Carina reached out, brushing a damp strand of hair from Maya’s cheek. “And yet, you didn’t. You were calm. You were clear. You saved lives.”
“I kept thinking someone else should be calling the shots. Someone with more experience. Or just—someone who doesn’t doubt themselves every other breath.”
“You’re human,” Carina said simply. “But the difference is, you never let fear stop you. And that’s exactly why Ripley sees what he sees in you.”
Maya looked away, jaw clenched.
Carina hesitated before speaking again. “When I watched you run into that surf last night—without hesitation, without looking back—it terrified me.”
“I’m sorry,” Maya said softly.
“No, bambina. Don’t be.” Carina’s voice trembled. “It made me realize something. That this... us... isn’t something I can treat like a maybe anymore.”
Maya turned back to her, eyes searching. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want it all. You, the messy parts. The quiet breakfasts. The panicked texts when you think Travis found out something embarrassing. I’m saying I don’t want to waste time.”
Maya swallowed. “Even with Gabriella still around?”
Carina took a breath, like she was tasting the salt in the air. “It’s time I tell her. It’s time I stop hiding.”
The words hung between them, heavy and light at the same time.
“I want the lead position,” Maya blurted suddenly.
Carina blinked, then smiled slowly. “You do?”
“I do. I didn’t think I did. Or maybe I didn’t think I deserved it. But last night, I kept waiting for someone to take over, and no one did. Because I was already leading. I just... didn’t realize it.”
Carina leaned in, kissed her gently. “That’s the part I’ve always seen.”
—
Later that day, they returned to the tower, salt still in their hair, sand clinging to their shoes.
Ripley called everyone into a casual end-of-shift huddle outside the tower, clipboard in hand and wind in his hair. Lifeguards gathered around—some finishing protein bars, others tossing a volleyball back and forth.
Ripley cleared his throat. “I know I said I was evaluating people for a Lead Lifeguard promotion. And after last night’s rescue... I’ve made my decision.”
He turned to Maya, expression even but voice warm. “Bishop, pack light next week. You’re heading to the regional leadership training in San Diego. When you come back—you’re officially Tower Lead.”
There was a beat of stunned silence.
Then Vic screamed. Travis whooped. Theo clapped her on the back with way too much force.
Maya just stood there, heart full, cheeks red, looking helplessly at Carina—who only smiled, eyes bright and proud.
Maya finally laughed, dazed. “Wait, that’s it? I’m... promoted?”
Ripley grinned. “No one else had the guts to call shots in the dark. That’s it.”
Carina wrapped an arm around Maya’s waist, tugging her close.
“I told you,” she whispered into Maya’s ear. “You lead even when you think you’re lost.”
And for once, Maya believed her.
Chapter 26: The Space Between
Chapter Text
The morning Maya was scheduled to leave for San Diego arrived before either of them was ready.
Carina lingered in the doorway of their bedroom, watching Maya zip up her duffel bag. The air smelled like sea salt and Maya’s shampoo, and something about the quietness made Carina’s chest ache.
“Got everything?” Carina asked, voice soft.
Maya turned with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah. Just need to survive a week without you.”
Carina crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Maya’s waist, pulling her in. “You’ll be amazing,” she said into Maya’s shoulder. “Just remember to actually sleep while you’re there.”
“I will if you text me goodnight,” Maya teased, though her hands gripped Carina just a little tighter.
They kissed slowly, sweetly, as if trying to press a promise into each other’s lips.
By the time the taxi arrived, Maya slung her bag over her shoulder and pulled Carina into one last hug at the curb.
“I love you,” Maya whispered.
“I love you too,” Carina replied, her voice cracking just enough for Maya to notice.
And then Maya was gone.
—
Later that afternoon, Carina walked into the small beachside clinic with her shoulders squared and her heartbeat steady. Gabriella was already inside, leaning over a tablet, sunlight catching in the gold flecks of her curls.
“Carina,” Gabriella greeted, setting the device aside. “Aren’t you off today?”
“I needed to talk to you.” Carina didn’t sit. “About Maya. About… everything.”
Gabriella stood straighter, bracing. “Okay.”
Carina exhaled, slow and sure. “I should’ve told you sooner. Maya and I… we’re together. For real. And it’s not just something passing.”
Gabriella studied her face, something unreadable flickering across her features. “I figured,” she said finally. “After that day on the beach, when we worked the heatwave together… the way she talked about you. I knew.”
“I didn’t want to hurt you,” Carina said. “But I also can’t keep hiding pieces of my life to make it easier for someone I used to love.”
There was silence between them — not cruel, just full.
“I’m not angry,” Gabriella said. “If anything, I’m relieved. I’ve been trying to pretend like we’re still in the same chapter, when we’re not. We haven’t been for a long time.”
Carina let her shoulders drop, a weight quietly slipping off her back. “So what now?”
Gabriella offered a small, tired smile. “Actually… I accepted a job. A hospital in Seattle, internal medicine. A clean start.”
Surprise flickered in Carina’s chest, followed by a warmth she didn’t expect. “That’s… good. That’s really good.”
Gabriella nodded. “No more clinics by the beach. No more bumping into you and pretending it doesn’t sting.”
They stood there for a beat longer, and then, like a thread gently snipped, it was done.
“Take care, Carina.”
“You too, Gabriella.”
—
That night, Carina returned to her apartment alone.
She curled onto the couch with a cup of tea, the TV playing softly in the background. Her phone buzzed with a message from Maya:
Made it to San Diego. Already missing you. Training starts at dawn, but I’m thinking of you now. Always. — M
Carina smiled, thumb brushing the screen.
Her past had walked out the door today — not in anger, not in regret, but in clarity.
And for the first time, she didn’t feel pulled between what was and what could be.
Maya was what could be.
And Carina was ready.
Chapter 27: Changing Tides
Chapter Text
The door barely shut behind Maya when Carina’s hands were in her hair, her mouth claiming Maya’s in a kiss that was breathless, hungry, and entirely overdue.
“Hi,” Maya whispered, grinning as she dropped her duffel to the floor.
“Hi,” Carina murmured back, walking her backward with deliberate steps. “You’re late.”
“I got you something,” Maya said between kisses, slipping a hand into her pocket to reveal a keychain shaped like a lifeguard buoy. “Very cliché. Very me.”
Carina snorted, taking it but tossing it to the side. “You can give it to me again later. Right now—bed. Or couch. Or the floor. I’m not picky.”
They barely made it to the bedroom.
Clothes came off in a flurry of need, laughter and kisses mingling in the spaces between. It wasn’t rushed—it was relief . The kind that came after seven long days and nights apart, after Carina’s world had quieted and Maya’s had accelerated. They took their time reacquainting, hands mapping each other like sacred territory. Carina kissed every inch of Maya’s skin like she was rewriting the week they’d spent apart. And Maya… Maya surrendered to it, to her. To being home .
Later, wrapped in sheets and each other, Carina trailed a lazy hand down Maya’s stomach and rested her head just over her heart. “You feel different.”
Maya chuckled, voice husky. “Better or worse?”
“More centered,” Carina said. “Like you believe in yourself a little more.”
“I’m working on it,” Maya whispered. “You help.”
—
By the time the sun reached its peak at noon, the two finally emerged from their apartment, hand in hand, walking along the boardwalk like nothing could touch them. Maya filled Carina in on her training—beach drills, trauma scenarios, late-night leadership exercises. She had a slight tan, a sun-kissed nose, and a new confidence in her posture.
“So,” Carina said, nudging her before stepping into the clinic to start her shift. “Are you ready for this?”
Maya didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yeah. I think so.”
The tower smelled like sunblock, salt, and fresh-start energy. Maya had barely stepped onto the deck before Ripley called out, “San Diego didn’t kill you. I’m impressed.”
She grinned. “Missed me that much?”
He snorted. “Missed having someone around who doesn’t let Vic DJ.”
The rest of the team gathered as Ripley motioned them into a semicircle. Maya stood among them, trying not to fidget. Her heart thudded in her chest, anticipation mixing with nerves.
Ripley didn’t waste time.
“As of today,” he said, voice carrying over the wind and waves, “Maya Bishop is Lead Lifeguard for this beach.”
Cheers broke out instantly. Vic whooped. Theo and Travis high-fived behind her. The rest of the team managed a grudging nod of approval.
Maya’s cheeks flushed despite herself. She tried to look unfazed, but the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her.
“You’ll need that authority,” Ripley added with a smirk. “Because as of this morning—you’ve got rookies.”
He stepped aside and gestured toward four figures approaching the bottom of the tower.
“Meet your fresh blood.”
First came Jack Gibson , bounding up the stairs like he’d chugged three espressos. “Hey! Big fan of the tower. Great view. And hi, I’m Jack!”
“God help us,” Vic muttered under her breath, amused.
Next was Andy Herrera , cool and focused, scanning the setup like she was already mentally redesigning it for efficiency. “Hi, Andy.” she said without preamble.
“Nice to meet you too,” Maya replied, eyebrows raised.
Ben Warren arrived third—a little older, calm, professional, eyes sharp. He offered Maya a respectful nod. “Looking forward to learning from you all.”
Then came the fourth.
Jordan Blake .
Tall. Composed. Sleeveless tank that revealed lean muscle and a familiar confidence. Maya’s mouth went dry.
Vic’s eyes went wide. “Isn’t that—?”
“Don’t even start,” Maya deadpanned.
Jordan smiled as if the years had barely passed. “Still training like you’re an Olympic qualifier?”
“Still making everyone fall in love with you?” Maya shot back, dry and amused, even as her brain screamed play it cool .
Jordan laughed. “Guilty.”
Just then, Carina appeared at the bottom of the tower steps, a brown paper bag in hand. “I brought lunch,” she called up. Her eyes narrowed slightly when they landed on Jordan.
Jordan turned, assessing Carina in a single, polite glance. “Friend of yours?”
Maya didn’t hesitate. She jogged down, took the bag with one hand, and slipped the other around Carina’s waist, kissing her like she meant it. “This is the one I actually fell for.”
Jordan raised an eyebrow, but her smile stayed easy. “Good taste.”
Carina gave her a look that could slice rope. “I know.”
—
With orientation underway and the tower quieter, Maya sat with Carina in the sand, watching the tide roll in. The last streaks of pink stained the horizon, waves kissing the shore in slow rhythm.
Maya’s fingers played with a shell absently. “This still feels unreal.”
Carina nudged her shoulder. “It’s real. And it’s yours. So take it.”
Maya looked over, eyes soft. “I used to think being in control meant doing everything myself. Earning it alone.”
“And now?”
Maya laced their fingers together. “Now I know it means letting the right people in. You. The team. Even Ripley.”
Carina rested her head on Maya’s shoulder. “Then maybe this is the part where you stop trying to be perfect—and just be present.”
A moment later, Carina leaned into her but cocked her head slightly. “So, who’s Jordan?”
Maya blinked, then laughed softly. “You caught that, huh?”
Carina raised an eyebrow, equal parts playful and pointed. “She looked very comfortable with you. And you didn’t exactly flinch when she flirted.”
“We were on the same team and used to train together. Don't worry, she flirts with everyone,” Maya said, turning to face her. “I did have a crush on her once, but it was a long time ago. Nothing ever happened.”
Carina narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion. “Hmm… and now?”
Maya leaned in and brushed a kiss against her cheek. “Now I’m very taken. Hopelessly.”
Carina smiled, satisfied—or close enough to it. “Good answer.”
But as they settled again, her hand lingered a little tighter in Maya’s, and her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon longer than usual. The breeze wrapped around them like a blanket, but something in Carina’s posture was just a touch more guarded.
Maya glanced at her, reading the silence. She didn’t press—just shifted a little closer, letting their shoulders touch, letting presence speak where words didn’t need to.
Carina eventually rested her head back on Maya’s shoulder, but her voice, when it came, was quieter. “Just… don’t let her flirt with you too much.”
Maya kissed her hair. “She won’t. I promise.”
Carina nodded, but said nothing more.
Maya nodded slowly too, the words and the moment settling into her like the sand beneath their toes.
Changing tides, after all, didn’t mean drowning.
They meant a new beginning.
Chapter 28: Uncharted Depths
Chapter Text
The rookies were eager, if not hectic, during their first full week on the beach. Maya had them rotating between tower drills, ocean-read exercises, and rescue scenarios, all while balancing egos, adrenaline, and sunscreen reminders.
“Jack, that was a solid dive,” Maya called from the shoreline as he emerged, grinning and waterlogged. “Now try it without flailing like you’re being attacked by a jellyfish.”
“I like to add flair,” Jack declared proudly.
Andy rolled her eyes. “Your flair almost cost you the dummy.”
Jordan laughed, perched on the edge of the dune like she owned the sand. “Olympians don’t flail.”
Ben muttered under his breath, “She says, like it’s an elite club,” and went back to adjusting the rescue board straps for precision.
Maya managed to hide her grin. Barely.
By midday, she assigned them their first solo towers—pairs, of course, and under heavy supervision. But it was a big step and watching them fan out along the beach stirred something proud and strange in her chest.
---
Later, Maya and Jordan sat on the bench near the equipment shed, the buzz of the team still lingering in the air. Jordan leaned back, sipping from a water bottle.
“Didn’t expect to see you here, of all places,” Maya said, tossing a pebble toward the sand.
“Didn’t expect to be here,” Jordan admitted. “After I tore my shoulder everything kind of… unraveled. The Olympics weren’t in the cards anymore. So, I stopped chasing something that stopped chasing me.”
Maya nodded slowly. “And lifeguarding?”
“I missed the water. Missed the clarity of it. The purpose. This seemed like the right kind of second chance.”
Maya looked at her, thoughtful. “I get that.”
Jordan tilted her head. “What about you? You ever miss that tunnel vision? All those early mornings with your hair frozen into icicles?”
“I miss believing in it. Not the training. The certainty.”
Jordan hummed in understanding, then bumped her shoulder playfully against Maya’s. “You’ve still got that edge, you know. You’re just… nicer now.”
---
That evening, the team gathered at a local dive bar — worn wood floors, dollar bills stapled to the rafters, and cheap nachos no one could resist. Vic had declared it a bonding night, and no one dared argue with her once she started waving a karaoke mic around like a weapon.
Maya sat next to Carina in a booth, hand resting on her thigh. Across the table, Jordan was retelling a ridiculous training story involving a capsized boat, a seagull, and a stolen protein bar.
“I still can’t believe you swam back with the bird tangled in your hair,” Andy wheezed.
“It was majestic,” Jordan insisted. “Like an accidental Disney princess.”
Carina chuckled politely but reached for her drink a beat too quickly.
Maya noticed.
Then Vic clapped her hands. “Alright, game time. Everybody shares one secret. No judgment. No skipping.”
Ben revealed he used to be afraid of public speaking.
Andy confessed she once accidentally rescued someone who didn’t need saving.
Jack admitted to kissing a tourist on duty and getting written up for it.
Then Jordan leaned forward, chin in her hand. “Olympic training was brutal,” she said. “You wake up before the sun, eat like a machine, train till your bones hum. But you also get to see people in their rawest form.” She smiled faintly. “Like Maya, for example. Did you guys know she used to train with weights tied to her ankles to beat her personal records? Her coach thought she was insane.”
Vic’s jaw dropped. “Wait. What?”
Even Carina turned, surprise flickering across her face. “You never mentioned that.”
Maya shrugged, suddenly sheepish. “It wasn’t exactly healthy.”
Jordan grinned. “It was iconic.”
Carina pressed her lips into a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. She excused herself to the bar.
Maya followed a minute later, brushing her hand along Carina’s arm. “Hey.”
Carina looked at her, expression unreadable. “She knows a lot about you.”
Maya’s brow knit. “Yeah. That was a different life.”
Carina’s gaze softened just a little. “I just didn’t realize how much of it I don’t know.”
Before Maya could respond, Travis and Vic hijacked the speakers and launched into a Whitney Houston ballad, dragging Jordan and Andy up with them.
The tension scattered like mist, but it lingered in Maya’s chest.
---
As the night wound down, Maya excused herself to the bathroom, and Jordan waited near the exit for Jack so they could share a cab. Carina ended up standing beside her.
For a beat, silence.
Then Jordan glanced over, cool but not unkind. “She seems happy.”
Carina met her gaze. “She is.”
A moment hung between them like sea mist—light but carrying weight.
“You’re the reason she stopped chasing?” Jordan asked, not snide, just curious.
“No,” Carina replied evenly. “I’m the reason she stopped running.”
Jordan nodded once, slowly. “Right.”
The words weren’t quite approval. Not quite challenge. Just… acknowledgment.
Carina offered a tight smile. “Have a nice shift tomorrow.”
And then she walked past, her hand brushing Maya’s on the way out.
Chapter 29: Fault Line
Chapter Text
The ride back to Carina’s apartment was quiet.
Not peaceful quiet. Not the kind filled with shared glances and linked fingers across the console. No—this was sharp-edged silence, the kind that buzzed just beneath the skin.
Maya drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on her thigh, itching to reach for Carina—but not sure if she should.
Carina stared out the window, lips pressed in a line, her posture rigid.
Maya cleared her throat. “So... dinner was fun.”
Carina didn’t look at her. “Sure.”
Maya winced. Okay. Not good.
---
By the time they got inside, Carina had kicked off her shoes and gone straight to the kitchen, the distance between them somehow louder than anything either of them said.
Maya followed, hovering in the doorway. “Alright. Want to talk about it?”
Carina didn’t turn around. “About what?”
Maya exhaled. “Come on. Don’t do that.”
Carina finally spun, arms crossed. “Don’t do what , Maya? Pretend like everything’s fine when it’s not?”
Maya blinked. “I wasn’t pretending.”
“You laughed at every single thing she said,” Carina snapped. “You looked at her like—like she still had some piece of you.”
Maya’s jaw dropped. “Are you serious? It was just banter. You know I don’t feel that way about Jordan.”
Carina shook her head. “I don’t know that. I know what I saw. I know what I felt sitting there while she told stories about a version of you that I’ve never even met.”
“That was years ago,” Maya said, voice tightening. “That version of me doesn’t even exist anymore.”
“She clearly thinks she still knows you,” Carina said, voice rising. “She talks about you like she still owns part of your story.”
Maya stepped forward. “And you think I invited that?”
“I don’t know what to think, Maya!” Carina said, throwing her hands up. “I just know I felt small tonight. And I haven’t felt that way in a long time.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Maya’s voice was quiet when she spoke. “That’s not what I want for you. Ever. But I can’t control what Jordan says. I can only tell you where I stand.”
“And where is that?” Carina asked, soft but pointed.
Maya looked at her, eyes wide and earnest. “With you. Always with you.”
Carina held her gaze for a long moment. Then turned away.
And that was it.
---
The next day, Maya woke to an empty side of the bed. A silent apartment. No text. No note.
By midweek, she’d lost count of how many unread messages she’d sent.
Can we talk?
I didn’t mean to hurt you.
I miss you.
Please.
Nothing.
Carina buried herself in work. Back-to-back paramedic shifts, long hours at the clinic. When Maya did catch glimpses of her across the beach, she was all business. No glances. No softness. Just ice.
---
Vic found Maya on the sand late one afternoon, crouched beside a rescue board, pretending to adjust the straps she’d already adjusted twice.
“You look like someone who’s been yelled at by an Italian and hasn’t slept since.”
Maya sighed, lips twitching. “That obvious?”
Vic plopped down beside her. “Want to talk about it?”
Maya hesitated. Then nodded. “We had our first real fight. It sucked.”
Vic arched a brow. “Was it over Jordan?”
Maya groaned. “Of course it was over Jordan. Because the universe apparently thinks I need to be publicly haunted by my Olympic-era crush.”
Vic smiled sympathetically. “She’s shiny. I get it. But Carina’s not mad because Jordan’s pretty. She’s upset because you didn’t see what she saw.”
Maya stared at the water, quiet.
Vic bumped her shoulder. “Here’s the thing about relationships. They’re not just about showing up—they’re about reassuring people you’ll stay. Even when the past tries to walk back in wearing a tank top and a tan.”
Maya laughed, despite herself. “That was weirdly profound.”
“I’m full of surprises.”
Before Maya could answer, her radio crackled to life.
“Tower 3, this is Dispatch—we’ve got a swimmer caught in a rip near the outer buoy. Possibly a shark sighting. Repeat, possible shark in the water.”
Maya was on her feet in an instant. “Copy. I’m on it.”
Chapter 30: Blood in the Water
Chapter Text
The water was different that day—restless in a way even Maya couldn’t quite name.
She’d been watching the swell shift, the undertow crawl faster across the sand, the breeze lifting flags in uneven bursts. Something was brewing. And then the radio cracked.
“Tower 3, swimmer caught in a rip current past the outer buoy. Possible shark sighting. Repeat: possible shark in the area.”
Maya didn’t hesitate.
Grabbing her rescue board, she sprinted into the surf. The adrenaline hit like a second wind, familiar and clean. She paddled fast, heart hammering as she broke through the whitewash and scanned the open water. A flash of skin. A flailing arm. A scream—then nothing.
She found him—teenager, maybe eighteen—struggling to keep his head above water. She reached him just as he slipped under.
The ocean pulled like it wanted to keep them both.
She got an arm around him, lifted his chin, and started paddling back, legs burning.
Then she saw the shadow.
The unmistakable glide of something beneath the surface.
The dorsal fin cut through the water like a warning.
Maya didn’t scream. Didn’t even breathe. She pushed the swimmer onto the board and kicked harder, faster, yelling into the wind for backup.
The shark surged from below just as she angled the board sharply to shield the boy. Its snout clipped the fin, and Maya felt the crack vibrate through her leg like lightning.
Pain bloomed instantly—hot and deep.
Blood clouded the water around her thigh.
But she didn’t stop.
---
A roar echoed over the waves as a jet ski came into view—Vic at the wheel, Jordan crouched behind her, eyes wide the moment she spotted Maya in the water.
“Oh my God,” Vic shouted. “Go, go!”
Jordan dove in without hesitation, helping Maya balance the unconscious swimmer. Maya was pale, shivering, and barely holding on.
“Get them both on!” Jordan yelled.
They hauled the boy up first. Maya struggled to lift herself, leg nearly giving out. Jordan caught her under the arms, heaving her up, water pouring from her board shorts and the gash torn through her thigh.
Vic throttled the engine. Jordan pressed down on the wound with her bare hand.
Maya groaned. “Carina…”
Her head lolled against Jordan’s shoulder, eyes barely open.
“Stay with me, Bishop,” Jordan said tightly. “Don’t you black out.”
But Maya was already slipping under.
---
The second Carina’s radio buzzed with the call—shark incident, two rescued, lifeguard injured—she dropped everything.
“What’s the name?” she asked, pulling on gloves as she ran toward the ambulance.
The answer stopped her cold.
“It’s Maya.”
Her stomach dropped.
The ambulance tore across the beach access road. Carina jumped out before it fully stopped, sprinting across the sand.
She found them under the lifeguard canopy—blood everywhere, Maya on a stretcher, oxygen mask fogging with each labored breath.
“Maya!” Carina dropped to her knees beside her. “I’m here, I’m here.”
Maya didn’t respond.
“Vitals?” she barked.
“Pulse weak, pressure’s low. Large laceration, left thigh. She’s already lost a lot of blood,” the medic replied.
Carina pressed her hands to the gauze wrapping the wound, adding pressure, heart screaming inside her chest. “We have to move now.”
---
Maya was rushed into surgery.
Carina stood in the hallway, her uniform stained, her hands shaking as she pulled off her gloves. Her heart was still racing, but her head had cleared just enough to burn.
Jordan and Vic arrived minutes later.
Carina turned on them like a storm.
“You were with her,” she snapped. “How did this happen?”
Vic held up her hands. “We got there as fast as we could—”
“She was bleeding out in the water!” Carina shouted. “You’re both trained—how the hell did she end up like that ?”
Jordan stepped forward, calm but sharp. “We did everything we could. I held her together until you got there.”
Carina’s eyes were wild. “You think that’s good enough?”
“Carina—” Vic started.
“No.” Carina pointed at Jordan. “You think I don’t see it? The way you look at her. The way you act like you know her better than I do.”
Jordan’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. Maya made her choice to run into the rescue first.”
Carina surged forward, but Travis appeared from nowhere, sliding between them. “Whoa. Nope. Time-out.”
“Carina,” Vic said gently, stepping in, “She kept saying your name, okay? The whole way in. Over and over.”
Carina blinked.
Vic’s voice softened. “That’s all she cared about. You.”
Carina’s body sagged like someone had pulled the cord from her.
She turned away, fists clenched.
---
Later - Hospital Family Room
The fluorescent lights buzzed quietly overhead as Carina sat alone, arms wrapped around herself, dried blood still on her uniform.
She stared at the floor. At nothing.
And for the first time in a long time, she cried.
Not the quiet, composed kind. But the kind that cracked her open.
She’d almost lost her.
And the thought of a world without Maya Bishop in it?
Unbearable.
Chapter 31: Breakwater
Chapter Text
The world returned in pieces.
First came the hum of fluorescent lights. Then the soft beeping of machines. And then the unmistakable scent of antiseptic, warm cotton, and a perfume she would’ve known blindfolded.
“Carina…” Maya’s voice cracked like dry sand.
Carina surged forward from the hospital chair, eyes rimmed red, face still tense from a day that had refused to let her breathe. “I’m here. I’m right here.”
Maya blinked at her slowly. “Did we win?”
A watery laugh escaped Carina. “You fought off a shark, Maya. That’s not the right metaphor.”
Maya tried to shift, then winced, pain radiating from her thigh. “Okay… maybe just a draw.”
“You’re an idiot,” Carina whispered, clutching her hand. “But you’re my idiot.”
Maya looked at her, serious now. “I’m sorry. For the fight. For how things felt… before.”
Carina nodded, voice trembling. “We’ll talk about it. Later. But right now, I just need you to stay awake.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Maya murmured, brushing her thumb across Carina’s knuckles. “Not anymore.”
---
Two days later, Maya was discharged with crutches, stitches, and a doctor’s warning to take it easy for at least three weeks. Carina all but glued herself to her side—fussing over pillows, organizing prescriptions, muttering in Italian when Maya tried to prove she could “walk just fine.”
Carina had already arranged everything. Andrea had flown back from Italy earlier that week, cutting his trip short the moment he’d heard about Maya’s injury. He arrived jet-lagged and wide-eyed, immediately offering to stay at Carina’s apartment so she could move into Maya’s and take care of her.
“You take care of her,” he’d said over the phone. “I’ll hold down the fort.”
And Carina had. She packed quickly, took over Maya’s bathroom counter, and filled the kitchen with meals Maya wasn’t allowed to help make. When Maya blinked up at her from the couch and asked, “You’re staying?” Carina just smiled.
“Doctor’s orders.”
Maya didn’t argue. Not when Carina was everywhere at once—warmth, comfort, steady hands and soft-kisses reassurance.
---
One afternoon, while Maya dozed in a blanket cocoon, Carina ducked back to her apartment to grab more clothes. Andrea was lounging on the couch, TV remote in one hand, a half-eaten sandwich in the other.
“She lives,” he greeted.
Carina raised a brow. “Barely. And I brought back clean laundry. Don’t touch anything sharp.”
“I’m a guest. Not an infant.” He paused, then grinned. “So… the shark. Drama queen.”
Carina rolled her eyes but smiled faintly.
Andrea sobered. “You doing okay?”
Carina nodded slowly. “Better now. It was…too close.”
“Yeah, when I got your voicemail it sounded like you were about to burn the hospital down.”
There was a beat.
Then, Andrea leaned forward. “You want to talk about the real thing bothering you?”
Carina gave him a look.
“The blonde one,” he clarified. “Not the one you’re in love with. The other one.”
“Jordan,” Carina said flatly.
“Ah. So she has a name,” Andrea said, sitting back. “Let me guess—too charming, too close, too much history.”
Carina didn’t answer right away. “She has this way of making me feel like an outsider in Maya’s life. Even when I know better.”
Andrea offered her a small smile. “Then remind Maya of the part you play. And remind yourself, too. You’re not on the outside, Carina. You’re home base.”
She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes it’s hard not to look over my shoulder.”
“Then make sure she’s looking forward. And keep holding her hand.”
---
That night, Maya was half-asleep on the couch when Carina returned. Her hair was messy, an ice pack balanced on her thigh, and her face relaxed in a way Carina hadn’t seen in weeks.
Carina kissed her forehead. “Hey, bambina.”
Maya blinked open one eye, smile lazy. “Back already?”
Carina held up her bag. “Full laundry service. You’re spoiled.”
“You spoil me. There’s a difference.”
Carina settled beside her carefully, pulling a blanket over them both. Maya tucked her head into the crook of Carina’s shoulder.
“You’re really staying?” Maya asked softly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Carina said, kissing her hair. “Not anymore.”
Maya was quiet for a beat. Then: “Even if Jordan keeps… being Jordan?”
Carina smiled against her. “I’ve seen what you look like when you’re in love. And trust me, it’s not directed at her.”
Maya snorted. “That obvious?”
“Hopelessly.”
Carina pressed another kiss to her cheek. “Rest, bambina. You’ve already fought off a shark. You don’t have to fight anything else tonight.”
Wrapped in her warmth, Maya finally drifted off.
And for the first time in days, the tide felt steady again.
Chapter 32: Clear Skies, Clear Lines
Chapter Text
Three weeks after the shark rescue, Maya stepped onto the boardwalk with a slight limp and a deep breath.
The air smelled like sea salt and sunscreen, and the breeze off the water felt like a welcome-back handshake from the ocean itself. Tower 3 stood tall and familiar in the distance — her tower, her view, her rhythm.
As she approached, Vic greeted her with a wolf whistle. “Look what the tide dragged back.”
Travis leaned over the railing. “About time. We were starting to get sentimental.”
Maya grinned. “I’m touched.”
“You should be,” Theo added from below. “We even kept your chair exactly how you like it.”
Maya rolled her eyes. “That’s either sweet or suspicious.”
But as she climbed the steps to the tower, something in her chest clicked into place. Being back meant something — more than routine. It was a return to control, to purpose, to herself.
---
Later, while checking tower equipment, she heard someone approach.
“Welcome back,” Jordan said from behind her, arms crossed, face unreadable.
Maya turned. “Thanks.”
Jordan stepped closer. “You look good. Stronger.”
“Working on it,” Maya said carefully.
They stood in silence for a moment, the ocean lapping steadily in the background.
“I wanted to say I’m glad you’re okay,” Jordan said finally. “That whole day was... scary.”
“It was,” Maya agreed. “Thanks for helping pull me in.”
Jordan nodded, then hesitated. “Can we talk? Really talk?”
Maya sighed, setting down the first-aid kit she’d been restocking. “Sure.”
Jordan glanced toward the horizon. “I know I’ve been… a little too familiar. And if it crossed a line—”
“It did,” Maya said gently but firmly.
Jordan blinked.
Maya continued. “Look, I’m grateful you were there. I always respected you — as an athlete, as someone who pushed me back in the day. But that’s the past. Carina is my present. And my future. Whatever this is, whatever you’re trying to pull me into — it has to stop.”
Jordan didn’t flinch, but her eyes softened. “So this is it, then? We’re just… friends.”
“That’s all we should’ve been,” Maya said. “And I need you to respect that.”
Jordan nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Her voice didn’t hold resentment. Just something quieter. Something resigned.
---
Later that afternoon, Carina swung by Tower 3 with lunch. She didn’t expect to cross paths with Jordan on the sand, but the moment it happened, neither of them turned away.
Carina’s eyes were sharp, guarded.
Jordan, to her credit, didn’t try to smile. She simply said, “She loves you.”
Carina tilted her head. “I know.”
Jordan stuffed her hands into her pockets, looking suddenly very human. “It’s hard not to be jealous of that.”
Carina blinked. “Of what?”
“The way she looks at you,” Jordan said, voice low. “Like you’re the only gravity she needs.”
There was a beat of quiet between them.
Carina’s voice was even when she replied. “You didn’t need to try and steal that to know your own worth.”
Jordan looked down, then back up. “I wasn’t trying to steal anything. I just… forgot how lonely it gets being the one who used to shine.”
Carina’s expression shifted—less bristling, more reflective. “Then find a new way to shine.”
Jordan gave a slow nod. “I’m working on it.”
And then she turned and walked away, sand crunching beneath her feet.
---
Later that evening, Maya and Carina sat on the back deck of Maya’s apartment, sharing tea and a blanket and watching the tide roll in under a cotton-candy sky.
“Jordan and I talked today,” Maya said softly.
Carina glanced over. “So did we.”
Maya raised a brow. “How’d that go?”
Carina leaned her head on Maya’s shoulder. “Unexpectedly honest. Surprisingly civil.”
Maya smiled faintly. “She’s not a bad person. Just… a reminder.”
“Of what?”
“Of who I used to be. And how far I’ve come.”
Carina hummed in agreement. “You’ve come pretty far, bambina.”
Maya kissed the top of her head. “And I’m still going. With you.”
Carina curled into her side with a contented sigh, the last of the tension finally giving way to something steadier.
Clear skies. Clear lines.
No more undertow.
Just forward.
Chapter 33: The Line in the Sand
Chapter Text
Six months had passed since the shark incident, and the beach had never felt more alive.
The off-season had been anything but quiet. Maya’s stitches had long since healed, but she hadn’t slowed down for a second. Recovery had turned into conditioning. Conditioning into strategy. Strategy into leadership.
She’d trained her team until they hated her—then a little more, until they loved her for it.
Because this year, Seattle was going to win .
The Annual Lifeguard Challenge was the biggest event of the year, a coast-wide competition created to test, sharpen, and celebrate the everyday heroes of the shore. Full-time lifeguards from California to British Columbia came together not only to compete, but to push each other—mind and body—to be better rescuers.
Each course was designed to mimic the real thing: sudden rips, breathless swims, paddle board precision, CPR under pressure, sand sprints, full-kit rescues. And each team had to move as one.
Maya was team captain for Seattle.
Her team? Travis, Jack, and—yes—Jordan.
“You ready to lose to the West Coast elite?” Vic teased, popping a grape into her mouth as they walked the competitor’s tent line that morning.
Maya rolled her shoulders back, eyes on the horizon. “Not a chance.”
—
Challenge Day
The beach at Santa Cruz was transformed into an athletic battlefield—event tents, cones, crowd barricades, and stacked paddle boards as far as the eye could see. Flags whipped in the wind from every coastal district, and hundreds of spectators dotted the dunes and bleachers. There were cheers, chants, and whistles—the air thick with sunscreen, salt, and adrenaline.
Seattle’s cheer squad—Carina, Vic, Andy, Theo, and a very enthusiastic Ben—had matching shirts that read “Tower Three or Die” in faded lifeguard red.
“I didn’t approve this slogan,” Maya muttered as she stretched.
Carina, holding a megaphone, just winked. “You love it.”
Ripley, freshly back from his training and advisory role in San Diego, took the judges’ stand beside two other senior lifeguard officers. He caught Maya’s eye across the competition lane and gave her a nod—sharp, proud.
Game time.
—
First Event: Ocean Sprint Rescue
Maya’s legs burned as she slammed into the surf, Jack right beside her. Jordan waited on the board past the break, hands already outstretched for the rescue dummy. Travis manned the finish flag.
Their coordination was clean. No wasted motion. Maya reached the dummy, strapped it in, and signaled to Jordan just as the tide pulled rough beneath them.
They didn’t falter.
Seattle clocked in second—barely behind San Diego, and far ahead of their usual rivals, Santa Monica.
Travis screamed as they crossed the finish. “We’re going to get that win and Maya’s going to make us swim more after!”
“Damn right,” Maya said, gasping for air but smiling wide.
—
Second Event: CPR Rotation + Mental Drill
Under pressure, under time limit. Team members had to rotate through CPR technique while simultaneously identifying flag signals from a judge fifty meters away.
Jack fumbled his first signal.
Jordan caught it.
Maya adjusted the rhythm without breaking focus. Their mannequin lived .
—
Third Event: Paddle Relay
This was Maya’s event. The one she’d trained for even when she was still limping from surgery.
She mounted her board with practiced grace, cutting clean through the current like a knife. When she tagged Travis, he was already moving. Their transitions were flawless.
When they placed first in the heat, Carina stood up on the bleachers and screamed so loudly Maya could hear it through her swim cap.
—
Break Time
Back at the tents, Jordan handed Maya a bottle of water.
“You’re killing it out there,” she said.
Maya nodded. “So are you.”
There was a beat of silence between them.
Jordan added quietly, “Thanks for letting me be part of this. I know I didn’t exactly make things easy.”
Maya looked at her, then down at the sand. “You’re good at what you do. And I meant what I said. Friends is all it’s going to be.”
Jordan’s smile was tired, but genuine. “I know. Still a little jealous, though.”
Maya looked over to the bleachers—where Carina sat, cheering, smiling, existing like gravity.
“I would be too,” she said.
—
Final Event: Full-Team Mock Rescue
The final challenge was a simulated emergency scenario—timed, complex, brutal.
A “victim” swept into a rip. An injured teammate. A panic situation mid-paddle. Conflicting radio chatter.
Maya was in her element.
She issued orders calmly. Moved her team with precision. Improvised when Jack missed his signal. Reacted instantly when Jordan tripped and went down on the sprint.
Travis pulled the final flag.
Time: 3:43.
First place.
—
Closing Ceremony
Teams gathered at the podiums, medals glittering under the orange-streaked sky. Maya stood with her team—grimy, sore, exhausted. Glowing.
Ripley stepped up to the mic to present awards. When he handed Maya the team plaque, he held her hand for a beat longer than necessary.
“You’ve built something strong here,” he said. “And you’ve earned every piece of it.”
Maya didn’t trust herself to speak. She just nodded.
—
Later That Night
On the beach under the stars, after the crowds had thinned and the tents were packed away, Maya sat beside Carina on a worn blanket, watching the waves.
“You’re glowing,” Carina said.
“I’m sweating,” Maya corrected.
Carina smirked. “Same thing. In my heart.”
They sat in silence for a while, legs stretched out, fingers laced.
“You’re not just surviving anymore,” Carina said softly. “You’re leading.”
Maya turned to her, eyes shining in the dark. “Only because I have something to lead toward.”
Carina leaned in and kissed her, slow and proud.
Behind them, Vic tried to sing karaoke into her megaphone again.
But Maya didn’t hear it.
All she heard was the surf.
And Carina’s voice when she whispered, “You were born for this.”
Chapter 34: The Long Game
Chapter Text
The sun was just beginning to stretch its way through the curtains when Maya rolled over and found Carina already awake, already watching her with that soft, utterly devastating expression.
“Hi,” Maya whispered.
Carina smiled, slow and sleepy. “Hi.”
They didn’t say more—not with words.
Carina’s hand slid down Maya’s waist, fingers mapping familiar terrain, and Maya leaned into her touch like gravity. Lips brushed lips, slow and lazy, until it turned urgent. Heated. Desperate in that quiet, soul-deep way that came not from lust but from need.
From love.
Maya rolled them over, hands bracketing Carina’s wrists above her head, teeth grazing her jaw.
“You’re insatiable,” Carina murmured.
“I’ve been starving ,” Maya corrected, dipping lower to kiss her collarbone and breast.
Clothes vanished. Breath tangled. The kind of sex that didn’t feel like a climax—it felt like a homecoming.
After, tangled in sheets and limbs, Maya lay on her side, fingers tracing idle circles across Carina’s stomach.
“What?” Carina asked, eyes fluttering closed.
Maya paused, then shook her head. “Nothing.”
But her mind wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t stop whispering what ifs and could bes. What if this was it— the it. What if she’d already found her person?
What if one day, Carina had her last name?
The thought didn’t scare her.
It settled in her chest like something inevitable. Like breath.
---
By late morning, the two of them were dressed—reluctantly—and back at the beach where the team was scheduled to regroup.
The moment they stepped onto the sand, a roar of applause met them.
“Winners in the house!” Jack shouted, holding up a spray of celebratory foam he definitely wasn’t cleared to use.
Seattle’s beachgoers had lined the boardwalk with signs, cheers, and cameras. Someone had already made a banner. “Team Tower 3 — Wave Crushers!”
Maya turned pink instantly. Carina kissed her cheek just to make it worse.
As the applause began to fade into excited chatter, a group of reporters descended on the team, badges swinging, cameras rolling. Apparently, two Olympians on one winning team made headlines. Maya and Jordan had already received interview requests from Pacific Coastal Weekly , Seattle Sport , and even Home Design magazine. There were whispers about a magazine cover. Talk of a beach safety campaign. Publicity shoots. Possibly a podcast.
While Maya answered a few polite questions about teamwork and leadership, Jordan stood off to the side in easy conversation with a young journalist who was clearly more interested in her than just the headline.
“You ever think about getting back into competitive sport?” the woman asked, her notepad barely used.
Jordan’s smirk was casual. “Sometimes. But I like where I am.”
The reporter tilted her head, eyes gleaming. “Well, if you ever want to tell your story—over drinks, maybe—I’m local.”
Maya, not far away, caught the flirtation and blinked in quiet amusement.
Next to her, Carina leaned in and whispered, “That’s promising.”
Maya grinned. “Let’s hope she takes the drink.”
---
As the media moved on, the teasing began.
Vic was practically vibrating with excitement.
“Do you think they’ll make you pose in a wetsuit with a golden whistle?” she teased. “Wait, wait, or maybe just the whistle—”
“Vic.”
“Maya Bishop: From Gold Medalist to Wave Queen —tell me that’s not your headline.”
“I will actually drown you,” Maya muttered.
“Too late, babe. You’re Seattle’s golden girl now.” Carina laughed.
Travis joined the pile-on. “I mean, seriously, you do have strong cheekbones. Very marketable. Just let me manage your Instagram.”
Maya groaned. “I will literally drown you both.”
Maya looked at Carina helplessly, who only shrugged and said, “You are very photogenic.”
Maya groaned into her hands.
---
Later, after the chaos had faded and the beach had returned to its usual rhythm, Maya sat with Vic on the back steps of the equipment shed, sipping cold Gatorade and trying to cool her face.
Vic nudged her. “You okay? You’ve been quiet since the mob of future sponsors left.”
Maya stared at the horizon for a long moment. “I’m thinking.”
“Dangerous,” Vic said. “Should I be worried?”
Maya exhaled. “Not bad thinking. Just… forward thinking.”
Vic tilted her head. “Oh?”
“I’ve been through a lot this year,” Maya said. “Got promoted, nearly died, led a team, didn’t screw it up. Somehow still have the girl.”
“She’s not the kind of girl you ‘still have,’” Vic said gently. “She’s the kind you keep choosing.”
Maya nodded. “I know. That’s what I’m thinking about.”
She looked over, eyes earnest.
“I think I want to marry her.”
Vic blinked. “Whoa.”
“Yeah.”
“No, like— woah. You’re serious.”
“I’m serious.”
Vic grinned. “You gonna tell her that or just keep making bedroom eyes until she figures it out?”
Maya laughed. “I’m working on it.”
“Well, when you do? I better be your maid of honor.”
“I thought that was Carina’s job.”
“Funny.”
They clinked bottles, and for a moment, the future didn’t feel like a question mark.
It felt like something worth racing toward.
Chapter 35: Rip Current
Notes:
Hi everyone! The final chapter is here—along with a BONUS epilogue for your reading pleasure. Thank you so much for following along with this AU fanfic; it's been such a joy to write!
Chapter Text
Vic was terrible at keeping secrets.
She was also terrible at subtlety, which made her the worst possible partner in crime—and yet, here she was, helping Maya plan a surprise proposal behind Carina’s back like it was her Olympic event.
“She almost caught me last night,” Vic hissed as she adjusted her sunglasses and crouched behind a rental cabana.
Maya peeked from the side of the cabana, suppressing a grin. “You were supposed to drop the flowers off, not narrate your near-disasters.”
“She asked why I was being weird! I had to say something. I told her I was testing a new beach scent diffuser line.”
Maya laughed. “You’re the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”
“And yet you chose me,” Vic shot back, brushing sand off her shorts. “You’re welcome for the fireworks permit, by the way.”
They shared a look—one part giddy panic, one part unspoken excitement.
“Tonight?” Vic asked, eyes wide.
Maya nodded. “Tonight.”
---
Mid-afternoon brought blue skies, a packed shoreline, and the usual whirlwind of sand, sunscreen, and squawking seagulls.
Then the call came in—shortwave, urgent.
“A lost child near the boardwalk. Possible separation from parent. Lifeguard assistance requested.”
Maya was the first to respond, bolting off the tower with practiced ease. Within minutes, she found the boy—a small figure near the volleyball nets, clinging to someone’s beach bag and looking lost enough to make Maya’s chest ache.
She crouched slowly. “Hey there, bud. I’m Maya. You okay?”
He looked up with wide eyes, lip trembling. “I can’t find my mommy.”
Maya nodded, holding out her hand. “We’re going to fix that, okay? You’re safe now.”
The boy latched onto her like a barnacle.
By the time Carina and the rest of the team arrived to assist with the search, Maya was kneeling in the sand, the little boy attached to her like a koala.
“Well, well,” Carina teased, crossing her arms. “I leave you alone for ten minutes and you adopt a child?”
Maya looked up, deadpan. “He’s sticky but calls me ‘the nice tall lady.’ It’s destiny.”
Travis leaned over to Vic. “This is it. She’s soft now. We’ve lost her to parenthood.”
“Not yet,” Maya called out, smirking. “Still have to marry her first.”
Carina flushed, laughter slipping through. “Working on that, are we?”
Maya winked. “You’ll never see it coming.”
---
They found the boy’s mom near the smoothie truck—panicked and crying. The reunion was swift and tearful, and when the boy clung to Maya one last time before saying goodbye, Carina's smile softened from playful to something quietly aching.
Later, as they walked the shoreline just before sunset, Carina brushed her fingers against Maya’s. “You were amazing with him.”
Maya shrugged, pretending nonchalance. “He liked my whistle.”
“Seriously,” Carina said, turning to face her. “Do you… ever think about it? Kids?”
Maya paused. “I mean… yeah. Sometimes. But also—kind of a big question.”
“I know,” Carina said softly. “But watching you today, it didn’t feel scary. It felt… like it could be real. One day.”
Maya squeezed her hand. “Let’s start with one thing at a time.”
Carina raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
Maya smiled. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe something like…”
---
That Night
The beach was quiet again, bathed in soft purple dusk.
Maya told Carina they were going for a moonlit walk. Nothing fancy. Nothing suspicious.
She wore her Tower 3 hoodie and carried nothing but a light jacket and a knot in her throat.
They reached the stretch of sand near the rocks, where Vic and Travis had rigged lanterns in the dunes and around the cabana. The ocean was calm, the breeze salty and sweet.
Carina slowed, narrowing her eyes. “Maya…”
And then the first firework went up.
A pop, a burst of gold, then blue.
Maya turned, pulling her gently into the middle of the circle of light.
Carina stared. “What…?”
“I’ve nearly drowned twice,” Maya said, voice shaking. “Once by water, once by fear. And both times, you were there—pulling me back. Reminding me who I was. Who I wanted to be.”
Carina’s eyes glistened.
Maya dropped to one knee.
“I don’t want a world where you’re not part of every rescue, every morning coffee, every victory and screw-up. I don’t want the beach without you. Or the quiet after. Or the everything in between.”
She pulled out a small box from her jacket pocket.
“Carina DeLuca… will you marry me?”
The fireworks flared behind them, a chorus of stars blooming in the sky.
Carina dropped to her knees too, pulling Maya into a kiss that tasted like sea salt and forever.
“Yes,” she whispered against her lips. “A thousand times yes.”
---
From the boardwalk above, Vic turned to Travis, eyes wet. “We did good.”
Travis sniffled. “I need tissues. And champagne.”
—
Back on Tower 3 the next morning, Maya leaned against the railing, sipping her coffee, her engagement ring catching the early sun.
Carina walked up with two croissants and an overstuffed wedding Pinterest board already open on her phone.
Maya groaned. “We’re starting already ?”
Carina kissed her soundly. “You started it, bambina.”
Maya smiled.
She didn’t know what the waves would bring today. But whatever comes, she knows one thing:
She wasn’t swimming alone anymore.
Chapter 36: Epilogue
Chapter Text
Three years into their marriage, the DeLuca-Bishop household had a rhythm all on its own—equal parts chaos and joy, with just enough sea salt and baby wipes to keep things interesting.
The sun had barely risen over the horizon when Maya felt the soft thud of tiny feet on hardwood floor and the unmistakable sound of their toddler scaling the side of their bed like a determined crab.
“Mamaaa,” Noah whispered loudly.
Carina groaned from under the pillow.
Maya rolled over, catching their son just before he launched himself onto her ribs. “Buddy, we’ve talked about this. You can’t full-body slam your pregnant mother.”
“Mama belly,” Noah said with absolute wonder, poking Carina’s bump. “There’s a baby!”
Carina, eyes still closed, replied, “Yes, and the baby does not appreciate being poked.”
Maya snorted and pulled Noah into a cuddle. “How about we let Mama sleep and go make breakfast?”
“Pancakes?” he asked, bright-eyed.
“You drive a hard bargain.”
---
By 7:00 a.m., the DeLuca-Bishop kitchen was filled with the scent of batter, maple syrup, and a playlist of 90s pop that Maya insisted on calling “classics.” Noah sat at the counter, pancake batter on his nose, giggling as Maya flipped heart-shaped stacks onto his plate.
Carina appeared a few minutes later in one of Maya’s hoodies, hair pulled up, glowing in that effortless, beautiful way Maya still hadn’t gotten used to.
She leaned over and kissed Maya on the cheek. “You have syrup on your eyebrow.”
Maya kissed her back. “We’re working on precision.”
Carina rubbed her belly. “So is this one.”
---
After breakfast and a chaos-fueled cleanup attempt that mostly involved Noah spraying water everywhere, Maya changed into her lifeguard gear and kissed Carina goodbye.
“I’ll see you at the beach later?”
Carina nodded, hand on the bump, smile soft. “We’ll be there after naptime.”
---
Tower 3 — Late Morning
The beach was alive, summer in full swing. Maya climbed the tower with practiced ease, tossing a wave to Jack and Travis, who were wrangling umbrellas near the southern stretch.
“Do you get any sleep?” Jack asked.
“Two hours, three pancakes, one baby foot to the spleen.”
“Parenthood looks hot on you,” Travis called.
Maya laughed and adjusted her binoculars. “I’m thriving.”
The radio buzzed. A swimmer had gotten caught between rip currents—nothing serious, handled in minutes. Maya moved with her usual precision, calm and focused.
But her favorite part of the day didn’t come until just after lunch, when she saw the familiar figure walking toward her across the sand—barefoot, golden, carrying a toddler who was waving like he was hailing a parade.
“Mommyyyyy!”
Maya climbed down just in time to catch Noah mid-run. He threw his arms around her legs, and she scooped him up, spinning once.
“Hey, little fish. Are you ready for your swim lesson?”
Noah’s nod was so enthusiastic it could’ve powered a turbine.
Carina followed behind at a slower pace, one hand on her back, the other holding a sunhat and juice box.
“I made him promise no backflips,” she said with a raised brow.
“I make no promises,” Maya replied, and kissed her softly.
---
Later — Shoreline
The team had gathered in a loose circle around the shallows, watching Maya guide Noah into the water.
“He’s a natural,” Jordan said, smiling.
“He’s a menace,” Jack corrected. “But in the cutest way.”
Carina sat nearby on a picnic blanket, sipping a cold drink, her hand resting on her belly. Andy had joined her, watching Maya splash with Noah, both of them laughing so hard it echoed over the surf.
Vic leaned over and whispered, “If that kid doesn’t become a future lifeguard-slash-Olympian, it’s a waste of genetics.”
“I just want him to be happy,” Carina said, soft.
And he was. As Maya lifted Noah onto a little training board and let him ride a gentle wave to shore—wobbling, laughing, entirely fearless—it was clear: he was home .
---
Evening — Back at Home
Dinner at the DeLuca-Bishop house was never quiet, but tonight it felt especially full—in all the best ways.
Andrea had swung by earlier, arms full of groceries and pastries he swore were “for Carina,” though everyone knew he had a thing for lemon tarts.
“Zio!” Noah shouted, launching himself at his uncle as soon as he stepped through the door.
Andrea caught him with practiced ease, spinning him in the air. “There’s my little pesciolino! Did you learn to surf today?”
“I did!” Noah declared proudly. “I didn’t fall!”
Andrea chuckled. “You’re just like your mamma.”
“Which one?” Noah asked, completely serious.
Andrea blinked. “Touché.”
They gathered around the table—Noah in his booster seat between Maya and Carina, Andrea on the far end, passing around pasta and adding way too much balsamic to the salad. The baby in Carina’s belly kicked once when Andrea told a story about his residency, and he immediately leaned over to whisper to the bump, “It’s okay, little one, I’m not always this loud.”
Carina rolled her eyes affectionately. “That is a lie.”
Noah, meanwhile, was trying to feed Andrea a bite of grilled cheese by hand.
Andrea accepted it solemnly. “Best chef I’ve ever known.”
“Better than Mama?”
Andrea looked at Carina, who arched an eyebrow.
He swallowed the bite. “Hmm…different cuisines. Safer answer.”
The table burst into laughter.
Later, while Maya and Carina washed dishes and the evening light faded into soft lavender across the windows, Andrea and Noah sat cross-legged on the living room rug, building a tower out of magnetic blocks.
Andrea held a piece in each hand and looked very serious. “We can’t place the yellow one until we consult the architectural council.”
Noah blinked up at him. “What’s that?”
Andrea leaned in. “That’s you, boss.”
Noah grinned like he’d been handed the keys to a kingdom.
---
Later, curled up on the couch, Maya rested her head on Carina’s lap, her hand on the growing bump.
“I still can’t believe this is our life,” she whispered.
Carina smiled, stroking her hair. “Believe it. You built it.”
“We built it.”
A pause.
“I’m thinking next summer we teach them both how to surf.”
Carina laughed. “One of them will still be in diapers.”
Maya grinned. “Early start. That’s what Olympians do.”
Carina shook her head, leaned down, and kissed her. “Bambina, you’re out of your mind.”
“I’m completely, shamelessly in love with you,” Maya said. “That counts, right?”
“Always.”
The waves outside their window hummed steady, steady, steady.
And in the warmth of their little home—baby monitor quiet, toddler asleep, love anchoring every corner—they knew:
This was the life they fought for.
The life they chose.
And it was only just beginning.
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