She stops abruptly, nearly running into me. The annoyance is still visible in her eyes, but along with it is confusion and vulnerability and something that looks way too damn similar to disappointment. It’s a look that undoes me, strips me of my anger and sense. “I can’t do it again.” Her blue eyes shift between mine for several seconds, attempting to read through my words. “Do what again?” “I nearly lost you to a fucking ocean. I’m not about to let you go test the threat level of some psycho. It’s not happening. You can be mad at me, you can stomp your foot, you can call me an asshole, but
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