Page 47 of The Run Back Home

I blink my way back to him. "Oh, I don't know. It's not planned or anything." I brush off the idea like I haven't thought about it in ages. "It's so far. My mom might actually kill me."

He turns to me. "But you want to."

Our eyes meet, and I barely think about it before I find myself answering. "Yeah," I admit, surprising myself. I pause long enough to decide I don't regret saying it. "Yeah, I think I do."

He nods like he was expecting that answer and takes a slow breath as I turn back toward the ceiling. "The schools I'm looking at aren't that far," he says.

"From Alaska?" I ask, confused—a little breathless.

He rolls his head so that he's looking at me again. I don't turn right away, but I can feel his eyes on me.

"From Mage."

Those two words land just as the otters on the screen break apart—one slipping beneath the water while the other paddles toward the shore.

The scene shifts briefly to a lone wolf standing in the snow.

Something in my chest tightens at the sight of it—quiet, watchful against the endless white.

Then a massive moose moves slowly across the frozen terrain.

The image changes back to the otters, but Jace's words still hang between us.

I haven't really let myself think about him leaving yet.

It's too sad. Too hard. Too much to imagine.

We haven't talked about it either—what it means for us. So, I've tucked it away every time it's threatened to ruin a moment or keep me up at night.

And yet, here—on this exhibit floor—with Alaska above us and the world swimming around us… I let it out for just a second.

It's not easy picturing him gone—but it seems less impossible when I remember that a year later, I'll be finished with high school too.

But it's just as hard to envision a life away from Mage Hollow.

My whole life is there. My friends, my family—the kind that doesn't venture too far from home. That takes pride in staying close.

Is that what Jace is asking me to do?

Anxiety tugs low in my belly, heavy and cold like the sea ice floating by, but I shove it down, back where I usually keep it.

I watch the otters return to each other, paddling side by side. And that other feeling returns—the one from earlier—the quiet pull that makes it feel like drifting with Jace might be enough.

Enough to calm my hesitation. Enough to make leaving feel worth it.

Because right now, we're floating together, drifting without thinking too hard about what comes next—or at least without saying it out loud.

And somehow, that makes it all seem a little less daunting.

Jace's fingers slide between mine again, warm against the chill of the room. Above us, the otters drift back together, paws linked as they bob against the slow current. I squeeze his hand.

And for now… that's enough.

9

Jace

Glancing at my wrist for what feels like the hundredth time, I watch the seconds tick away until I have to leave for the bus.