thirty-nine | disappear

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August,

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August,

I knew if I told this to you in person, you'd stop me. But there are things I have to take care of. Things I need to fix. Things I have been putting off because being here with you felt too good. But I can't keep ignoring reality.

I saw the hurt in your eyes when I told you the truth, and I saw the doubt. I don't want there to be any doubt, and I know what I need to do.

Yours,

Quinn

I left the note on August's kitchen counter, scribbling it hastily because I knew it was only a matter of time before he came to look for me. He was a patient man, but he was also a smart one. He'd get suspicious in only a matter of minutes when I didn't return, and if he found me, I'd never leave.

I'd never be able to leave.

I didn't want to leave.

But I had to leave.

I didn't pack much. In fact, I left most of my things in August's guest bedroom. Hopefully, he would see it. Hopefully, he would realize that meant I was coming back.

I grabbed his keys from the hook where they always were, praying he'd forgive me for taking his jeep. It wasn't his only mode of transportation; I'd seen his other cars in his garage, the ones he never used. But I knew his jeep was his favorite. It was also the only set of keys I knew where to find.

He was going to be mad; I knew he was going to be mad. Hopefully, he would be mad enough that he wouldn't bother following me. Hopefully, he believed that I wanted to fix things. That I was doing this for him.

But I'd never forget the momentary look of betrayal when he'd questioned me in his bed, when he felt like he had to ask if I slept with him just to save my job.

I'd shown up on this island desperate to keep my position, desperate to be the one who succeeded in doing the impossible: getting secrets out of August Fletcher. But all of that had changed.

August's secrets? They were mine. His. I didn't want to share them with anyone. I didn't want to share him with anyone. I wanted him to stay on the island where he belonged, living his life peacefully like the way he had been before I showed up in his uncle's bar.

I had no idea what that meant for my life, but at the moment, that didn't really matter. I'd figure it out. The only thing I cared about was August.

I threw my backpack in the passenger seat and turned on his jeep, wincing when it roared to life. Maybe, just maybe, August didn't hear that. But most likely, he did. Most likely, he'd be walking through his house right now, and I definitely wouldn't have the strength to drive away if I saw his face.

I backed out of his driveway, keeping my eyes on the path behind me, on the empty road that led past the exclusive beach houses.

No one would ever notice me trying to sneak away if I was in New York. In fact, they hadn't noticed me slip away, not when I came down here.

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