Page 73 of One Last Run

Immediately at the end of the runway was a ravine with a creek, and then it was granite and snowy mountains as far as she could see. Unfortunately, they were pointed in the wrong direction to see the resort, even as they craned their necks to look back for one last goodbye.

Here, so high above it all, everything from the week seemed to fade. The laughter, the excitement, the worry, the pain... Thousands of feet in the air now, everything mattered just a little less.

Pete closed her eyes, letting the sound of the engine drown out her thoughts. She'd go back to Seattle. She'd continue building Second Star, hire Izzy, find a happy medium between travel and home. Maybe she'd get out to see Lillian soon. Maybe she'd get a dog, finally.

She'd be okay.

She always was, eventually.

CHAPTER 23

DANICA

"You look terrible."

Danica turned to find her favorite nurse practitioner, Annie, standing in the doorway of their shared office with two cups of coffee. She rubbed at her eyes, her vision still blurry as she reached for the cup. Annie paused, then handed her both.

"Did I miss something? Is something wrong?" Annie asked, brushing her bright white hair out of her face as she tossed her scrub cap into her desk.

"I'm fine," Danica lied.

Annie surveyed her. "Isn't this your third overnight in the last week? Is that even legal?"

Danica shrugged. "I took a week off last month for that ski trip, so I have to make it up to everyone who covered my shifts."

Annie hooked a thumb toward the hallway with the on-call rooms. "You know we can sleep at night, right? You look like you haven't closed your eyes for?—"

"You don't actually have to finish that extremely flattering compliment you were about to give me," Danica said, scoffing inamusement. "Hey, did you see the new blood test numbers for baby Kirby?"

Annie glanced at her watch. "Don't you try to distract me."

Danica couldn't help but grin. She knew damn well that Annie had already been on the watch for hypocalcemia with one of their favorite patients and she'd figured that it would be an easy distraction. She sipped the bitter, burnt coffee that most likely came from the team room, where the well-meaning new resident had taken to making the worst coffee in the world.

It was nice to be back here after her week away. It felt... not exactly normal, but familiar. Life inside the NICU could feel like a vacuum. Nothing outside of the unit existed for the time she spent there. She could entirely devote herself to her patients, to figuring out the puzzles of strange dips in calcium levels, to sit and talk to her patient's parents to come to an agreement for the best treatment plan. It was exactly the situation she needed right now — too intense and challenging to spend any extra time thinking about Pete.

She'd taken on so many additional shifts because her time outside of the NICU felt like it passed in slow motion. Just two days ago, she'd cried in the produce section of the grocery store while Roxette's "It Must Have Been Love" blared from tinny speakers overhead. Flustered, she'd abandoned her empty cart and driven home in silence. She'd racked up so many shifts taking over for colleagues that they'd all be indebted to her for months.

Though her sleep in the on-call room was shallow and broken, it was far better than the sleep she'd been getting at home. Valentine's Day had come and gone, reminding her just how alone she was.

Six weeks had passed, and Danica still woke up some mornings with the faint, lingering scent of Pete’s coconut andapricot shampoo, as if a part of her was now permanently imprinted on Danica’s belongings.

But that moment, the one where she left without a word, haunted her like a ghost. It had been so easy to leave. Maybe too easy. She'd told herself it was because she was the one who couldn’t do this — couldn’t have this. Not with Pete, not with anyone. There were reasons, all these carefully constructed reasons: she wasn’t ready, she wasn’t good enough, she didn’t know how to stay without losing herself in the process of trying to live up to Pete’s ideals.

But every night, when she let herself think about it — really think about it — her heart ached. And sometimes she couldn’t tell if it was regret, or something else, something deeper.

The quiet replayed in her mind. How she had silently packed her things, then slipped out without a goodbye. How she'd told herself it was the only way — get out before it hurt too much, before she got too attached. But she had gotten attached, and it had hurt anyway. More than she’d expected. More than she’d wanted to admit.

She could still hear Pete's laugh, warm and soft, echoing in her chest, like a part of her heart had stayed behind in that room.

Danica had tried not to think about Pete for weeks, tried to bury the memory in the mundane rhythm of her life, the intensity of her work. But there was always a gap, an open space where something important should have been. Her mind wandered back to their last conversation, how Pete had said she’d follow her anywhere — until she’d left so Pete couldn’t make good on that promise.

Every time she thought about Pete, a tightness in her chest made her want to reach out, to say the things she hadn’t said before, but she was too scared to ruin it even further. What if Pete had moved on? What if Pete hated her for what she’d done?What if Pete had just been wrapped up in the moment and never really intended for them to have a future?

Her fingers hovered over her phone, thinking about texting — just a simple, stupid “Hey” or maybe an apology, something to bridge the gap between them — but she always stopped herself. Every message she drafted felt inadequate, like no combination of words would ever explain why she had run, why she had cut things off the way she had.

Maybe Pete wouldn’t even want to hear from her. Maybe it was better this way, to let the past stay where it belonged.

Then there were moments when Danica couldn’t shake the memory of Pete's touch, her smile, the way everything had felt so damn real. The ache in her chest grew sharper, more insistent. It didn’t make sense, but it was there, and it was unavoidable.

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