17
Sawyer opened his eyes when the earliest morning light began to filter in. He rolled over, squinting at the empty space beside him. Something wasn’t right.
Remy. Where’s Remy?
He sat up. On the pillow next to his was a neatly folded square of paper.
He groaned even as he reached out to pick it up. Opening it, he found a simple note in Remy’s elegant cursive.
Thanks for everything.
That was it.
“Thanks for everything?” he said, reading it a few times to make sure he wasn’t crazy.
Then, “f**k!”
He crumpled the note and tossed it aside, throwing back the covers and standing up. He supposed it was no use even looking for her; she was clearly long gone.
Just like their last time together, she’d made her priorities clear.
Only this time, he wouldn’t waste his time pining for her an
