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I didn't answer the call—I couldn't. Not when I hadn't yet made any sort of real plan. I hadn't figured out all of my options or planned how I was going to tell him I no longer wanted the assignment I've been requesting for months. The one he pulled strings to finally land me weeks ago.

The only job I have lined up.

So… I let it ring.

And ring and ring—until it finally went to voicemail.

But of course, he left a message.

Hey Lenora. I'm calling to verify all your details for Alaska. I have your paperwork. I just need to ensure you're okay with the housing I've arranged and confirm your flight information for reimbursement. If you could give me a call when you get a chance, that would be great. Talk soon.

I only listened to it once. It's all I really needed. Just a quick—unwanted—reminder that staying isn't as simple as leaving this time.

But now, standing at the nurses' station ninety minutes into my last shift at G.C. General—and right around fifteen hours from when I last dodged Kent's call—his words echo in my mind.

Verify details.

Confirm your flight.

Talk soon.

All of it swirls inside my head in between treating patients and doing charts and dodging Dr. Cherry who seems even less laid today than normal if that's possible—because I still haven't figured out how the hell I make this work.

But I need to make this work.

Replaying it again, I press my pen too hard into the paperwork in my hand, watching as the ink seeps through to the other side. Then, Dylan drops herself onto the nurses' station and sighs, stealing my attention.

"Well, Jenny's definitely coming back." She exhales hard. "I just called, and she's apparently thrilled to get back to work, so there's no extending your contract." She groans. "I'm sorry. I tried everything short of trying to knock her up again myself."

I wince. "Thanks, Dyl."

"You're sure there's nothing open here?" she asks quickly. "I could talk to Nancy to check if maybe—"

"I already did," I cut her off. "Twice. There are no openings. No per diem shifts. No we might have something in a few weeks dangling carrot to hold onto." I blow out a heavy breath. "Just a polite, apologetic smile and a good luck cake in the on-call room."

"Wait… that was yours?" Dylan asks. "That cake was actually so good."

I narrow my eyes. "You… ate the betrayal cake?"

"Oh." Dylan pauses. "Is that what we're calling it?"

We stare at each other for a beat until we both crack a smile. I drop my shoulders.

"No," I drag out. "I just can't believe there's nothing. Nothing here. Nothing even close. I checked the agency's site last night—there aren't any assignments posted even remotely near Golden City."

Dylan crosses her arms over her chest, her elbows still leaning on the counter.

Then, she smirks.

"What?" I ask.

She shakes her head as her bottom lip juts out.

I roll my eyes. "Just say it."

She stands and presses her back against the station. "All those years of dodging everything close to Mage Hollow," she finally says. "Now look at you."

I scoff. "Yeah, whiplash—so I've been told."