Page 196 of The Run Back Home

Dr. Cherry smiled.

At first, I thought it was a trick. Or maybe some kind of medical emergency in disguise. But no—she was actually just… happy. Thrilled, even. Which was unsettling, considering I'd been fully convinced she existed in a permanent state of irritation for the last few months. Maybe longer.

But she wasn't miserable. She was just tired. Drained, really, from spending every spare hour of her life quietly fighting to open a free outpatient clinic connected to the Golden City General ER. Somewhere patients without insurance—or problems that aren't true emergencies—can still get care without sitting in the emergency room for hours or draining resources meant for critical cases.

The way she explained it, the clinic isn't supposed to replace the ER. It's supposed to catch people before things get bad enough that it becomes their only option.

But she can't do it alone.

She needs a handful of doctors and nurses willing to step into the chaos. People who aren't just passing through. Who can think outside the box and provide care with what they have.

And that's where I come in.

"Plus, it's freezing here too, anyway," Jace continues, pulling me back to the moment as he brushes my nose with his. "Might as well see the otters."

I smother a smile. "And bring Dylan home."

"Is she ready, ya think? To come back?"

"She is." I brush my thumb against the short hairs at the bottom of his fade. "She thought maybe she'd try traveling by choice instead of moving because of her dad's job like she had to when she was younger. Turns out it doesn't really matter why she leaves—she's still the kind of person who's good in one place." I take in a slow breath. "She says she's ready to put down real roots too."

Jace nods in understanding.

"Speaking of," I add before I'm afraid I'll back out. "I was thinking, after, maybe I'd move back to the city."

Jace stands up a little straighter and clears his throat. "Mabel driving you crazy already?" He lets out a shallow laugh.

"No," I say, doing the same.

And I mean it.

Because the truth is, it's been nice to be back—to finally see Mage Hollow as a part of me again and not a cage. But I've learned the places and people that truly make you who you are—that belong to you in the best possible way—never truly leave.

I always thought bouncing from place to place meant outrunning all the things I couldn't seem to shake. That grief and regret and what I thought was the suffocating weight of proximity couldn't hit a moving target.

But thank God I was wrong.

Because it turns out those things don't have to be so overwhelming that we abandon them. They just don't have to become anchors either.