Page 160 of What We Break
"It sounds amazing," I say, because it does. Even if I wish it didn't.
"I've got funding locked in for three years, possibility of extension depending on results. Full salary, housing provided, travel expenses covered." He pauses. "You're the first person I thought of for this. You've got the experience, the language skills, and the heart for this kind of work."
The first person he thought of. Because I'm good at this. Because I've proven I can handle it.
Reid's still not looking at me. His shoulders are tense, his arms wrapped tight around himself.
This isn't how this morning was supposed to go.
"When would this start?" I ask, even though part of me doesn't want to know.
"That's the thing—we need to move quickly. I'd need an answer within the next week, and we'd want you there in six weeks to start site preparation."
Six weeks. My chest tightens. Six weeks to pack up and leave everything I've built here. A week to decide.
"I know it's sudden," Dr. Parker continues, "but opportunities like this don't come along often. Think about the impact we could have, Laine. Think about the lives we could save."
Lives we could save. Real, measurable impact in a place that desperately needs it.
I look at Reid again. He's looking back at me now, and there's something in his expression I can't quite read. He looks guarded.
I don't want to lose this. I don't want to lose him.
But I also don't want to lie—not to Dr. Parker, not to Reid, not to myself.
"Can I think about it?" I ask.
"Of course. But I do need to know soon. There are other people I could call, but honestly? You're my first choice. You've always been exceptional at this work, Laine."
We chat for a few more minutes about logistics—the specific location, the funding source, what the local government situation looks like. I'm filing it all away, but most of my attention is on Reid. The way he's standing too still. The way he won't look at me again.
Say something,I think at him.Ask me not to go. Tell me you need me here.
He doesn't.
When I finally hang up, the kitchen feels different. Smaller. Colder.
The French toast is still sitting on the counter. The corner piece, all that syrup.
I'm not hungry anymore.
"Big opportunity," Reid says finally. His voice is careful. Neutral.
"It is." I set my phone down on the counter. My hand's not quite steady. "Dr. Parker wants me to help build a clinic in Honduras. Three-year commitment."
"That's incredible." He uncrosses his arms, shoves his hands in his pockets instead. "That's the kind of work you used to do, right?"
Used to do.Past tense. Like it's already behind me.
"This would be different. More permanent. Building something sustainable." I'm watching his face, trying to read him. "Complete creative control over the whole program."
"Sounds like you would be great at it."
He means it. I can tell he means it. So why does it feel like he's pushing me out the door?
"It would be," I say quietly. "But I have a life here now. I have you."
Something flickers across his face. Gone before I can name it.
