SITTING AT AUGUST'S kitchen table, I stared at my computer screen, thinking I deserved the burning pain it caused my eyes.

Typed into the search bar were the words August Fletcher, and while it might seem like such a basic thing to do when researching a new subject, I couldn't get myself to do a deep internet dive on the man I'd come to know far better than any subject before.

It felt wrong. Like I was digging into secrets he didn't want me to know. Because if he'd wanted me to know, he would have just told me. He'd told me everything else but hadn't told me this. And there had to be a reason.

But if I couldn't figure out the exact cause for his early retirement, I would never be able to finish this assignment the way my boss wanted me to. Although, to be honest, I wasn't sure I wanted to finish this assignment the way I was assigned. But I owed it to the project to get the full picture before making that decision.

Right?

I tapped my fingers absent-mindedly at the keys, wondering why, if that were true, I couldn't just press enter and figure it out for myself.

Sighing, I closed my eyes. Even without this information, I knew deep down that August would never return to football. I just knew. Deep in my bones, I knew. He belonged here, on this island. And I could tell he didn't have any intention of leaving. Not again. Not after he'd lost all the people and all the reasons he'd chased his passions to New York.

So, didn't that make this a wash anyway?

"What is it, Castle?"

August's voice behind me made me jump, my eyes flicking open. My hand flew to my chest as I twisted to look at him, and oh.

August had been spending a lot of time in his home gym lately, focused on rehabilitating his knee—or rather, re-rehabilitating. But to my understanding, that involved a lot of stretching, strengthening exercises, and careful manipulation. He wasn't pushing the pedal to the metal; in fact, it was a lot of the opposite. It was gradual, but I could tell by his mood and how he walked more confidently that he was definitely on the mend.

The image before me confirmed that.

A light sheen of sweat covered August's bare chest. Actually, no, that was an understatement.

He was dripping. Sweat cascaded through the ripples of muscles on his stomach, disappearing into the low waistband of his shorts. He pushed a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, slicking it back, and my pulse sped up.

We'd been good. I'd slept in the guest bedroom for nearly a week, and while I missed his touch, we hadn't pushed past goodnight kisses for days—not since we returned from Sunny's last Wednesday.

The wait was unbearable. It was even worse now that I knew how goddamn talented he was, how hot our chemistry was, and how dirty August's mouth was. And this—the sight before me— certainly wasn't helping.

My lips parted as I took him in, and August groaned.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said tightly. "And I'm starting to wish I hadn't."

I couldn't help but drink him in. "I'm very glad you did."

"I can see that," he muttered, a slight smirk skewing his lips. "But you have to stop looking at me like that."

I blinked, redirecting my attention to his face and only his face. But that wasn't exactly better, considering how ridiculously handsome he was.

"Sorry," I said sheepishly.

He shook his head and leaned on the back of his sofa. "Don't apologize. Just tell me what it is you want to know. You've been staring at your screen like that for the better part of the week."

I sighed, pushed my computer out of reach, and turned in my chair to fully face him.

"I don't want you to feel like you have to tell me anything."

August pursed his lips and crossed his arms over his chest. His sweaty chest, which kept capturing my attention. Not only because it was making me feel all hot and sweaty myself but because it meant that August's knee must be enough on the mend that it had been able to withstand some kind of intense workout. And I hadn't been able to stop thinking about a certain kind of intense workout I'd love to experience with the man in front of me.

This time, when August caught me staring, he chuckled. "Should I shower and put some clothes on before we have this conversation?"

I shrugged, pretending he hadn't just called me out. "That's up to you. We don't have to have this conversation at all."

"I don't like seeing you stressed like this. And if I can help, I want to."

I stared at him, not wanting to say anything to persuade him. I didn't want to convince him to tell his secrets. I wanted him to tell them when he was ready.

"I trust you," he said, so low I barely heard him. "All you've done since you've arrived, and especially in the last week, is convince me that I can trust you. The way you've been staring at your computer tells me all I need to know, Castle."

My stomach turned because I was so worried that if I made one wrong move with this article and this assignment, I'd lose that trust. I was increasingly realizing how important it was to me to keep it. Even if I knew how unlikely a future beyond this week was for August and me.

But I nodded anyway, giving in.

"Let me go clean up, and then I'll be back," he said, flashing a small smile before he walked off down the hallway.

I watched him go, wishing that my heart and head didn't feel so conflicted and hoping that whatever he told me would help to tip the scales.

|||

"You need to get out of this house," August muttered when he returned, grabbing my hand and leading me to the patio doors. "You're going to hurt your eyes with how hard you've glared at that screen for days."

I didn't argue, following him outside and letting him walk me toward the ocean. The sand felt squeaky clean beneath my feet. Even though the sun had already started to set and shade covered the beach in front of August's house, the sand remained hot. But not any hotter than August's skin as it burned into mine.

All he was doing was holding my hand; still, it felt like I could feel him everywhere.

"You want to know what they wrote about me," he said before I could even ask.

I swallowed, letting the breeze help brush off my anxiety. Of course, he knew. It was the one thing he hadn't said.

"I want to know," I admitted. "And I know I could find it with an easy search. I know I could probably figure it out if I thought hard enough about it, but I... can't."

August's smile was soft as he looked down at me. A stray piece of hair blew in my face, the wind gentle, and August brushed it back, tucking it behind my ear.

"Fuck, what are you doing to me, Castle?"

He murmured the words beneath his breath, so low I nearly didn't hear him. But I did, and my heart pounded in my chest as a result. What was I doing to him? What was he doing to me?

"I thought that maybe the what wouldn't matter, but it does," I explained. "Because I'm missing a piece of the puzzle that is August Fletcher, and until I put it into place, something's just...not right."

He nodded like he understood. I wasn't sure if he really did or was just going to give me what I wanted, but I supposed it didn't matter.

"A few years back, before you joined the team, there was a scandal. Fitz was caught having an affair with one of our athletic trainers. It was messy and ugly, considering they both had families, and it resulted in some restructuring within the organization. Do you remember hearing about that?" he asked, his hand still in mine as we reached where the water met the sand and turned, strolling slowly along the ocean.

I scrunched my nose, trying to think back. But it wasn't ringing a bell. "No, I... don't remember that."

There was a bitter twist to August's lips as he nodded along with my answer, like he'd expected it.

"There's a reason for that."

"What do you mean?"

"There's a reason you don't remember."

My brows furrowed as we simultaneously stopped walking, our feet sinking into the wet sand after we turned to face each other.

"I didn't care much about the scandal," August said with a shrug. "I wasn't happy about it because cheating is a shit thing to do. But you know gossip and things like that don't really interest me. People's private business becoming public just isn't something I'm about."

I watched him carefully, curious about where this was going. "I'm sure the team didn't really like that business becoming public, either."

"No." August's lip curled. "No, they didn't. They'd rather cover it up with other people's private business."

I stared at him, my mind turning in gears as I thought through what he just said. I thought of the timeline and the insinuation, and a sinking feeling washed over me. But before I could fully come to any conclusions, August continued.

"When Parker showed up at my mom's funeral minutes before it started, I knew something was up," August said, his words snarling in the wind as he looked out at the ocean. "I knew he wasn't coming to pay his fucking condolences. It was a private service for a reason, and while a lot of my teammates had been invited because my mom had sort of become the team mom in a way, believe me when I say I didn't invite him."

I barely found my voice, but when I did, I asked, "Did you ask him to leave?"

August looked regretful when he answered, "No, but I also didn't expect him to write a whole fucking piece on it." 

My eyes widened as I tried to figure out what to say, but August's words were spilling out now. It was his turn to talk.

"It would be one thing if it were respectful," he said ruefully. "If it were a short memo acknowledging the woman who made me who I was. Who pushed me to make it this far in my career, but that's not what it was. Every word written in that article that was blasted across the internet wasn't put there to commemorate my mom. They were there to use her death as a diversion, to paint her having cancer as a team tragedy that was the reason for my shitty plays that season when in reality, it was just my tipping point. They donated money in her honor to research organizations, but only so they could publicize it and detract the public's attention. And you know what pisses me off? Organizations doing good things for bad reasons."

"August, I..." I squeezed his hand, feeling speechless because I could tell how deeply he felt betrayed by the people who should have been his second family when he'd lost so many people in his real one. "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head, his eyes swiveling back to me. And god, the sadness in them was nearly more than I could take.

"I thought that being a part of the Warriors organization would be what saved me when my mom passed," he admitted hoarsely. "But I was never a part of it. Just a pawn in it. Just a player, not a person. And I knew when the timing was right, I'd leave and never look back. They don't need me. They just want to use me. And I get that it's a job. I get that it's not personal, and I was only ever there to make them money. But football is personal to me, Castle. I just don't...operate any other way."

His words hit deep, making me rethink everything I'd been told before leaving to come down here. About how August was an integral part of the team, and a key player in the organization. About how he would be behind the success of their future. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized...they never really cared why he left. Only that he came back.

The article wasn't what was important here. Just the results. Results I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to deliver.

"What can I do to help?" I asked, wishing I could take the pain away that shone in his face.

August looked back at the water, glittering in the lowering sun.

And then he asked something I truly hadn't expected.

"Quinn Castle, will you go swimming with me?"

☀️

a/n:

would you go swimming with august fletcher? 🤭
xoxo amelie