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"So he did what he's always done," she continues. "He pulled away. From us. From Mage. From anything that reminded him of what he'd lost. Because coming back meant facing it."

Her eyes meet mine again.

"Jace has never been scared of distance," she says gently. "But when something breaks his heart, he has a habit of staying as far away from it as he can."

"I get that," I whisper.

Alaska flashes through my mind again—the assignment. The dream. The plan I've been clinging to for years.

Another place.

Another contract.

Three months in the Arctic.

Three months away from him.

Then Ang's words echo back—

Jace has never been scared of distance.

My fingers tighten around the cardboard box in my hands. And for a second, I expect relief.

That should make this easier. It should mean my leaving won't break us again. It should mean Alaska—any assignment, any city, any stretch of space between us—would be something we could survive.

But my stomach sinks anyway.

Because when Ang says those words, I don't picture surviving distance. I picture not wanting there to be any in the first place.

And the realization stops me cold.

Suddenly this decision isn't me standing between two futures the way I've been pretending it is.

It's me realizing I've already stepped out of one.

The one where he isn't.

And I think if I'm honest, I stepped away from that version of my life the second he let me back in.

No. This isn't about staying because I'm afraid to leave like Bridget said. It's about staying because there's nothing to run from anymore.

Because along the way, the dream stopped being Alaska and started being us.

And Jace? Well…

He's the adventure.

The truth lands so suddenly it almost steals the breath from my lungs.

"Ang," I say, pushing back from the counter. "I—I'm sorry. But I think I have to go."

I grab the box of cinnamon rolls. "It was good—"

"Just come back to him, okay?"

We speak at the same time, but Ang's words stop me in my tracks.

Suddenly Drippy's feels too loud, too crowded. Dishes clang, voices chatter, chairs scrape behind me.