That landed hard.
Because I hadn’t let myself think of the future as something I was allowed to want.
That night,I took my sketchbook out onto the porch and sat on the swing.
I didn’t draw Sawyer’s face.
I drew mine.
Or at least, I tried to.
Not the curated version. Not the cool-girl, freedom-chaser, always-on-the-move mask.
Just… me.
Hair messy. Eyes tired. Lines softer than I remembered.
Halfway through, I stopped and stared.
She looked like someone who had finally started to wonder if staying could be an act of courage, not weakness.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to erase her.
I wanted to learn from her.
13
HARPER
The email sat in my inbox like a dare.
Subject: Strategic Counsel Opportunity – Boston HQ
I’d read it three times already.
I knew what it meant. A subtle way of sayingwe still want youwithout actually promising anything. A return ticket. A pivot. A parachute. All the things I used to think I wanted—status, structure, security—wrapped in corporate language and a soft deadline.
I didn’t reply.
June foundme in the kitchen later that morning, halfway through my second cup of coffee and halfway through ignoring the laptop screen glowing in front of me.
“You look like you’ve been staring at that email for an hour,” she said.
“Thirty-seven minutes.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“No.”
She sat anyway.
I folded the laptop shut.
She waited.
Eventually, I said, “It’s an offer. From the firm.”
Her eyes searched mine. “Are you going to take it?”
