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"Me either," I admit, though that shouldn't surprise her.

But now I'm glad I never got the itch. That I never thought maybe taking me back to one of our best memories would help when I lost her. That JJ never got some clever idea for us Gators to come and see the real thing.

Because seeing her face hits harder than I ever expected. Sure, I knew she'd like this. And otters will always make me think of her. But I'm not sure I could do this without her here with me.

I'm not sure I want to do any of it without her here.

I tilt my head to watch her watch them. Following her eyes as they track one that swims toward another. And the whole time, a voice in my head is screaming to say it. To ask the questions.

I don't want you to leave.

Where are you going?

What happens to us once our time runs out?

Lenny's gaze freezes in place, her eyes locked in on the two now floating together, as their paws intertwine, their bodies pressed against each other.

And before I can speak, Lenny does first.

"I'm assigned to Alaska."

My mind hollows out.

Empty.

Every thought gone.

Lenny turns to face me, still holding my hand. "That's where my next contract is. Alaska." She repeats it, and as hard as I try not to, I physically flinch.

Her eyes drop to the floor as her breathing kicks up.

"It would start just a week after I'm done at G.C. General. It's a three-month job. Longer than most. But that's what the assignment's for. And I already said yes. Well, I didn't sign just yet. But besides that… it's a done deal."

She says it all quickly. No looking away. No looking at me. She barely pauses between each part like if she doesn't get it out now it won't happen at all.

Behind her, the otters drift in slow circles, paws still linked together like nothing in the world could pull them apart.

Alaska.

I try to picture it and come up blank because in all the times I've thought about what happens next, never did I imagine Alaska.

Suddenly… I'm angry. Not at Lenny—or myself. At the universe that so stubbornly forced us back together, then gave us fucking Alaska. And for three months. Because of course it's double the stay that she got here. Because when have we ever gotten the luxury of time?

I replay everything she said—Alaska. Three months. Done at G.C. That's the job.

I get to the part where she said yes when Lenny's eyes find mine again.

"Say something…" she begs.

I search her face, all of that anger that should resurface about loss and fairness, morphing into something I don't recognize at first.

Not until I answer.

"Why didn't you sign yet?"

She stills in front of me—all but her throat that moves slowly up and down. And for a split second, something sparks inside my chest.

Hope.