His face crumples, his hands dropping to his sides. “What?”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur, staring at the worn leather of the steering wheel instead of him.
He’s quiet for a moment, the only sound the faint buzz of the cicadas outside. Then, he softly begs, “Don’t do this.”
“When I’m with you,” I say, voice trembling, “I forget about everything else—all my responsibilities. You make it too easy to escape, and I can’t afford to escape right now.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “So that’s it? You’re cutting me off because I make youhappy?”
“That’s not fair—”
“No, what’s not fair,” he snaps, “is you deciding this for both of us without even trying to talk it through.” His voice cracks under the anger. “You think pushing me away is going to make your life easier?”
“It’s not about easy,” I grit out. “It’s about doing what’s right.”
“For who? Because it sure as hell isn’t right for either of us. Just last night, you told me this summer was the happiest you’ve ever been.”
When I finally lift my head to meet his eyes, the sight nearly undoes me. His bottom lip trembles, his glasses fogging with tears as his cheeks burn red. Every nerve in my body urges me to comfort him and pull him against me, but I resist, my teeth clenched hard.
“We knew this was going to end eventually,” I mutter, as if that makes it hurt any less.
He shakes his head, his lips twisting into a pained snarl. “Yeah, but not like this,” he says, sniffling. “We still have ten fucking days before I go back to Shelby Harbor.”
I bite down hard, my teeth gnawing the inside of my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
He lets out a hollow breath, shaking his head. “God, you’re unbelievable.” His nostrils flare. “Fuck you, Mason.”
He reaches for the door handle.
“Wait—” I lunge to grab his wrist, but he jerks away. “At least let me drive you back,” I plead.
“No thanks.” He glares at me, sharp and cutting. “I’ll walk.”
He shoves the door open, and the night rushes in, cool and merciless. I catch it before it slams, my voice breaking. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I really did—” My throat tightens. “I really did love our time together.”
He looks back at me, eyes wet. “But not enough to keep me,” he says quietly.
Then he’s gone, slamming the door and walking down the dark street without looking back.
Just like that, he takes the summer with him—the warmth, the sunlight, the easy laughter. All of it slips away in his shadow, leaving nothing but a chill that settles deep in my bones.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The afternoon sun beats down on the lifeguard tower, the wood beneath my bare feet hot enough to sting. A light breeze pushes off the lake, rippling the water into mirrored shards of light. With school back in session, the beach has quieted—just a few stragglers bobbing in the waves, eager to enjoy what’s left of the warm summer weather. Beside me, Aliyah leans against the railing, scanning the shoreline with her polarized sunglasses, her whistle glinting at her chest.
“You okay?” she asks quietly, not looking at me.
I nod automatically, even though it’s a lie. It feels like everything in my life is falling apart all at once. Over the past few days, Aliyah and Mom have been godsends—taking turns listening to me wallow in self-pity, letting me vent, and holding me when it all becomes too heavy to face on my own.
My gaze drifts to the stretch of sand near the dunes—the spot where Hunter’s research plots used to be. Now there’s no trace of them, no sign he was ever here. Just smooth, untouched sand, as if the beach erased every trace of him overnight. With all his data finally gathered, he’s probably back in Shelby Harbor preparing for his presentation.
“Have you talked to Maddie yet?” Aliyah asks gently, snapping my attention back to the lake.
My jaw tightens. “No.”
Maddie hasn’t spoken to me since the night I grounded her. She won’t evenlookat me. Now that high school’s started, our morningsare painfully quiet. She gets herself ready, grabs her backpack, and walks to the bus without saying a word. When she gets home, she heads straight to her room and locks the door.
The distance gnaws at me, hollowing me out from the inside. Mom says I should give her space to sort out her feelings—but I hate the silent treatment. It feels like standing on the shore, watching her drift farther and farther out, powerless to reel her back in.
