Page 13 of Cheyenne

Cheyenne’s jaw tightened. “What do you mean? I paid for this trip.”

The man shrugged. “Like I said, we don’t take solo passengers.”

Behind her, someone cleared his throat. “If you sell me the ticket, I can go with you,” Micah offered again.

Cheyenne was shaking her head, but the attendant pointed at Micah. “Do you know him? If you do, we can take both of you.”

Cheyenne glared at the man. “It shouldn’t matter who I come with. I paid for this ticket, and you promised I could go out today.”

The attendant smirked, clearly used to these conversations. “The contract states that we need a certain number of participants to run the activity. Since your ticket was purchased as part of a pair, we can’t take you alone. Your options are to take him or reschedule.”

Micah stepped closer, casually raising a hand. “Come on, Cheyenne. I’ll pay you for the ticket right now.”

Cheyenne wanted to throw the five-hundred-dollar ticket into the ocean just to spite him, but she knew she couldn’t afford to. Begrudgingly, she relented. “Fine. Here’s my Venmo.”

Micah pulled out his phone and transferred the money with a few quick taps. “All set.”

The attendant grinned. “Great. Head over to get fitted for life jackets. We’ll be heading out shortly.”

Cheyenne’s mood brightened quickly. She couldn’t believe she was finally about to check off one of her bucket list items.

She and Micah boarded a small motorized raft that would take them to the larger boat out at sea. The sky was a brilliant blue, the sun warm but not too hot. The waves sprayed water against the sides of the boat as it sped along, making Cheyenne laugh despite herself.

Micah laughed too, a sound that grated on her nerves.

She turned to him, narrowing her eyes. “What are you doing here? Surely there are easier ways to spy on me than spending two hundred and fifty dollars on something you’ve probably done a hundred times.”

Micah smirked, his eyes meeting hers. “Actually, I’ve never gone parasailing before, but I’m glad I came.”

Cheyenne frowned, caught off guard. “How could a South Port native never have gone parasailing?”

Micah leaned against the side of the boat, the sun catching his tousled blond hair. “I surf, not parasail. Trey taught me when I was sixteen. It’s always been my thing.”

She studied him, curiosity piqued. “That probably makes you a good Navy SEAL—being in the water all the time.”

Micah let out a hearty laugh. “I’m not a good SEAL yet. But hopefully I will be soon. The truth is, surfing doesn’t make me a good SEAL. Discipline, commitment, and maybe a little ego—that’s what it takes.”

“Yeah, I can see how a little ego might help.”

Micah grinned. “It doesn’t hurt to have someone to impress, either.”

Cheyenne raised an eyebrow. “Are you saying you’re trying to impress me?”

“I’m saying it doesn’t hurt,” Micah said, his tone playful.

They reached the larger boat, and the rest of the parasailing trip was a blur of adrenaline and laughter. Cheyenne found herself unexpectedly enjoying Micah’s company as they soared high above the ocean. By the time they returned to shore, she was laughing so hard her cheeks hurt.

When they stepped off the boat, Cheyenne realized this had been one of the best days of her life.

CHAPTER 6

Micah

The two of them were still caught up in the ridiculousness of their laughter as they disembarked. Cheyenne couldn’t seem to stop herself from making exaggerated attempts to mimic military jargon, failing miserably each time, which only made the moment funnier. Micah, on the other hand, was acting silly in a way that surprised even him. It felt liberating, as if for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. The lightheartedness between them was strange, unexpected—but refreshing.

Walking back up the sandy beach, Cheyenne turned to him. “So what else are you doing today?” Her voice carried a casual curiosity, but Micah could feel the moment teetering on the edge of goodbye.

“Well, I have a few places I need to check out. What about you?” He shook his head lightly, letting his long, curly blond hair tumble freely around his face. He ran a hand through it, the sun catching the golden strands. His mom always teased that he looked like a shaggy dog when he did that.

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