My first instinct is to look for the catch. Because there’s always a catch. I pick up the paper, stare at the number. Local. Or at least not obviously New York. Plenty of industry people use temporary numbers.
“So,” Olivia says gently, “a job?”
“Apparently.”
Ivy’s mouth quirks. “Well. That tracks.”
“How does that track?” I ask.
“You’re talented,” she says plainly. “People notice talent.”
I swallow. “That hasn’t always been… good.”
Sloane’s expression softens. “I know.”
I stare into my coffee like it might offer guidance.
“I trained for years to work in high-end kitchens,” I say. “That was the plan. The whole plan. I didn’t imagine myself here, cooking pancakes shaped like dinosaurs.”
“Do you hate that?” Olivia asks.
I don’t answer right away.
“No,” I admit finally. “I love it.”
The truth lands softly but solidly.
“But this was supposed to be temporary,” I continue. “A reset. Somewhere quiet to heal before I figured out what came next.”
“And now next is calling,” Ivy says.
I nod.
“And that scares you,” Olivia says.
“Yes.”
“Because?”
“Because every time I think about going back into that world, my chest tightens,” I say. “Like I’m standing in a kitchen that’s too hot and I can’t find the exit.”
“That’s trauma,” Olivia says calmly.
“Oh, good,” I mutter. “Love that for me.”
Ivy leans back. “Avoiding everything that scares you isn’t healing either.”
“I know,” I say. “But neither is throwing myself back into a situation where I might lose myself again.”
Sloane watches me closely. “Do you want to call him?”
The question catches me off guard.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Part of me does. Being wanted for my skills again feels validating.”
“And the other part?” Olivia prompts.
“The other part thinks about Sadie,” I say quietly. “About the ranch. About how safe I feel there.”
