Jake:How's school?
Lucy:Good. Hard but good. You?
Jake:Season's almost over. Playoffs start next week.
Lucy:That's great! Good luck.
Jake:Thanks.
Conversations that said nothing. Conversations that avoided the question neither of them wanted to ask:What are we?
"You need to talk to him," Amelie said one afternoon over coffee. "Really talk. This limbo is making you miserable."
"I'm not miserable."
"Lucy. You worked for sixteen hours yesterday. You haven't taken a day off in three weeks. You're either avoiding him or avoiding the decision. Either way, you're avoiding."
"I'm just focused."
"You're hiding. There's a difference."
But Amelie was right. Lucy was hiding. From the decision, from Jake, from figuring out what she actually wanted.
Because the truth was becoming increasingly clear: Lucy could stay in Paris. Chef Laurent had made good on his offer—he'd connected her with three different Michelin-starred restaurants looking for pastry assistants. All three wanted to interview her.
Real opportunities. Real futures.
In Paris. Far from Timber Falls. Far from Jake.
"When do you have to decide?" James asked during their weekly study session. He'd become one of Lucy's closest friends—funny, self-deprecating, genuinely supportive.
"Technically? I have until the program ends in July. Practically? I should probably know before then if I'm staying or leaving."
"What does your gut say?"
"My gut says I love Paris. I love learning here. I love who I'm becoming." Lucy paused. "But my heart says I miss home. I miss Jake. I miss belonging somewhere."
"You belong here," Yuki said quietly. She rarely spoke, but when she did, everyone listened. "You fit in Paris. The city suits you."
Did it? Lucy wasn't sure anymore. Paris was incredible—beautiful, inspiring, challenging. But did it feel like home?
Or was she just running away from the hard choice of going back to Timber Falls and facing everything she'd left behind?
The Wolves made the playoffs for the first time in five years.
Jake should have been thrilled. This was a huge accomplishment—for the team, for Tommy's final season, for Jake's future as a coach.
Instead, he felt detached. Going through the motions. Coaching was good, the team responded to him, they were winning games. But something essential was missing.
"You're doing the thing again," Marcus said after their first playoff win.
"What thing?"
"The thing where you're physically present but emotionally checked out. The Reaper thing we thought you'd gotten over."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You haven't been fine since Paris. Talk to me."
