Page 148 of The Run Back Home

"They give you some time," she says quietly. "To sign. Just in case."

My pulse quickens.

"In case what?"

She looks back at the otters as one dips under water and the other swims toward a bright yellow ball bobbing in the ripples.

When she finds me again, she gives a small shrug. "In case something happens—something better comes along or… plans change."

Plans change.

Tension coils in my jaw as I wait for her to give me more—something other than timing or paperwork.

She doesn't.

"So… you're still deciding?"

She inhales quickly, her eyes burrowing into mine like she's trying to understand what I'm thinking.

But there's no way she can when even I don't.

"It's a good assignment," she says softly. She forces a laugh, glancing back at the water. "A dream, really. Mine at least."

She says the last part slower, like she's testing how it sounds out loud—convincing herself maybe. But either way, those words hit me hard. They land in my chest, knocking me back to about eight years ago.

Different dream. Different city. Same two people standing in the middle of it.

And Lenny never once made me feel like I had to choose. Not between baseball and her. Not between the future I wanted and the one she couldn't follow me into. She swallowed whatever she was feeling and told me to go.

I just got done convincing myself this time is different. That her leaving doesn't have to mean the end of us. So, instead of making it about me—or us—I ask, "So when would you leave?"

"Two weeks."

I should flinch. Scream. My heart should break. But relief washes over me in a shape I don't expect.

Because it might only be a week, but those seven days mean Lenny will still be here for the game I almost forgot I was dreading her missing.

"So you can come to our Deaf Awareness game then."