"I blew up my career," I said, my free hand shoved deep in my coat pocket against the cold. "For what? A maybe? A hope that I can write something that matters instead of just something that sells?"
"For yourself," he said quietly. "That took courage. I'm proud of you."
Something in my chest loosened. Not gone, but easier to breathe through. "I might have just made the worst decision of my life."
"Or the best one. You won't know unless you try." A pause. "What are you going to do now?"
"I don't know. Eventually come to Colorado, I guess. Hope you still want me when I do, after I've self-destructed my whole life."
"I'll always want you. Career or no career. Bestseller or not." His voice was soft. "The Brent I fell for wasn't B.L. Cross, remember? It was just you. The guy who stayed up until two in the morning talking about why stories matter. The guy who made me brave enough to write the truth."
My throat went tight. "I miss you so much it's hard to breathe sometimes."
"I know. Me too." Background noise on his end—someone talking, a phone ringing. "I'm at work and I have to go. But Brent? I'm glad you walked out. It means you're choosing yourself. That's huge."
"Yeah. Terrifying, but huge."
"Call me tonight?"
"Always."
We hung up and I stood there on the corner, surrounded by strangers living their lives, and let myself feel it all. The terror, the relief, the strange exhilaration of having burned down everything I'd built.
And underneath it all, a spark of something that might have been hope.
***
That evening, I was lying on my couch, staring at the ceiling, when Jason called.
"Hey," I answered.
"Hi." He sounded breathless, like he'd been running. "Weird question."
"Okay?"
"Why are you waiting to come here?"
My heart stopped. "What?"
"I'm serious. What's keeping you in New York right now? Your career is in free fall—your words, not mine. You just blew up your entire professional life. You're miserable." He took a breath. "So why wait? Come now. Come tomorrow."
"Jason, I can't just—"
"Why not? What's actually stopping you?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again. "I don't... I can't just drop everything and—"
"You already dropped everything. You walked out on that meeting, remember? You chose yourself. So keep choosing yourself." His voice softened. "Come here. Be scared here. With me. We'll figure out the rest together."
I stood up and walked to my window, looking out at the city that had been home for most of my adult life. The city that had given me everything I thought I wanted and left me empty anyway.
"What if it doesn't work?" I asked quietly. "What if I get there and you realize I'm a mess and I've just burned down my entire life for a week-long fling?"
"First of all, it wasn't a fling. Not for me." His voice was steady, sure. "And second, you didn't burn down your life. You cleared space to build something new. That's different."
"You have a lot of faith in me."
"Someone has to. Might as well be the guy who's already in love with you."
