I get up and walk to the window, pressing my palm against the cool glass. The restless energy that’s been building since Phoenix finally demands movement, so I pace the length of my living room, turning the decision over in my mind.
Harrison said flexibility. Remote work. The ability to be based wherever I need to be.
Which means I could be in New York when I need to be in New York, for meetings and events and the face-time that still matters in this industry. And I could be somewhere else when I don’t.
Somewhere like Dark River, Washington. Where my parents are getting older in ways I noticed during my last visit, my dad moving a little slower and my mom squinting at menus like her reading glasses need a new prescription. Where I grew up and ran away from and have kept at arm’s length for so long because going back meant confronting everything I left behind.
Where Dominic lives.
I sink back onto the couch and look out the window at the city I love, millions of lights glittering through the rain, a thousand possibilities spread out in every direction. Normally that view settles something in me, reminds me why I fought so hard to get here and stay here. Tonight I just feel overwhelmed, my mind spinning with everything Harrison said and everything it could mean, and I pull out my phone and scroll to my mom’s contact. Right now I just need to hear her voice.
She picks up on the third ring. “Brooke? Is everything okay? I thought you were traveling back from Arizona today.”
“Just got home,” I say. “Long flight, but I’m fine. I just... wanted to talk.”
“Well, that’s a nice surprise.” I can hear the smile in her voice, the warmth that’s been there my whole life no matter how far I’ve run or how long I’ve stayed away. In the background I can faintly hear the TV, probably some rerun game they’re watching together. “How was the trip? We watched the whole series. Your father was rooting for the underdog.”
“It was a great assignment.” I tuck my legs underneath me and settle deeper into the couch.
“That’s wonderful, honey.” She pauses. “You sound tired. Are you sure everything’s okay?”
And something about the gentleness in her voice, the unconditional concern that mothers never seem to lose no matter how old their children get, makes the words spill out of me before I can stop them.
“I got offered a promotion,” I say. “A big one. Senior Editor. More than that, really. They’re restructuring, giving whoever takes it authority to shape the whole magazine. It’s... it’s everything, Mom.”
“Brooke, that’s wonderful!” My mom’s voice is bright with pride. “I’m so proud of you. Your father is going to be thrilled when I tell him.”
“Thanks, Mom.” I fidget with the stem of my wine glass, watching the red liquid catch the light. “The thing is, the job comes with flexibility. I could work from anywhere, travel when I need to, be in New York for the important stuff but not chained to a desk every day.”
“That sounds ideal for you,” she says. “I know you love New York City, but you’ve also always hated being stuck in one place.”
“Yeah.” I take a breath. “It also means I could come home more. See you and Dad. Actually be around instead of just flying in for holidays and flying out again.”
The line goes quiet, and I find myself holding my breath waiting for her response.
“We would love that, sweetheart,” she says, her voice softer now. “You know we would. We miss you so, so much.”
“I miss you too, Mom,” I say, and my voice comes out thick. I press the heel of my hand against my eye, surprised by the sudden sting of tears. “I think I’ve been so focused on building this life here that I forgot what I was leaving behind. And I keep thinking about all the time I’ve wasted staying away.”
“You haven’t wasted anything,” my mom says firmly. “You’ve been building a career that you should be incredibly proud of. Because we certainly are. And we always knew you were meant for bigger things than Dark River could offer.”
“Maybe. But I’m starting to realize bigger isn’t always better.” I stare out the window at the city lights. “I love New York. I do. I built my whole life here and I love this city. I can’t imagine fully leaving. But Dark River...” I trail off, trying to find the words. “I miss it, Mom. I miss you and Dad. I miss the water and the mountains and the way everything just slows down. I’ve been running from it for so long I forgot that part.”
“You don’t have to choose,” my mom says, and her voice is gentle but certain. “That’s what you’re telling me, isn’t it? This job would let you have both.”
“Yeah.” My throat tightens unexpectedly. “Both coasts. Both lives. My heart in New York and my heart in Dark River. I don’t have to pick one anymore.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, letting that settle between us. I can hear my dad moving around in the background, probably shuffling to the kitchen for his nightly bowl of ice cream that my mom pretends she doesn’t know about.
“This isn’t just about us, is it?” my mom finally asks. “There’s something else going on.”
I close my eyes. My mother has always been able to read me, even across three thousand miles of phone line.
“No,” I admit quietly. “It’s not just about you and Dad.”
“Does this have something to do with Dominic?” she asks gently.
“How did you know?” I let out a sound that’s half laugh, half sob.
