To be fair, it feels good. His hands are strong, working out the knots in my upper back, but still—I’d rather die than accidentally moan.

“Uh… thanks.” I shift in my seat, trying to shrug him off without being obvious. He’s not a bad-looking guy, but he’s still my superior.

And I’m not into men. I should’ve led with that.

Even if I were, I’d prefer my boss didn’t openly hit on me while I’m trying to survive a mental breakdown at work. This is 100% not the time.

“How about you take the rest of the day off?” he says, his voice dropping just slightly, like it’s supposed to be comforting. “It’s Thursday, so take tomorrow too. Make it a long weekend.”

He rolls his knuckles down my back again, slow and firm. I practically choke back a sound that’s dangerously close to a groan.

“Seriously?” I ask, forcing my voice to stay neutral.

“Yeah, of course. We’ve got it covered here,” he says with a final squeeze. “Just come back Monday feeling like yourself again.”

I offer a polite smile. “Yeah. Thanks.” He finally walks away, and I exhale hard, feeling some of the stress in my chest loosen—not because of his massage, but because he’s gone.

That’s a problem for another day. Today’s problem is Sarah.

I start packing up my things. As I’m zipping up my laptop bag, my phone buzzes. A notification from Instagram.

Of course. I forgot I still have alerts turned on for whenever Sarah posts.

This one’s from Toronto.

My stomach drops. She's already gone?

It’s a photo of her riding a bicycle through downtown, hair blowing in the wind, grinning at the camera. She looks… happy. Free.

I feel my chest sink as I stare at the screen. She’s really gone.

And she’s already living. Just like she told me to do.

Before I can second-guess myself, I open my browser and search flights to Toronto. Two hours. That’s nothing. If I get home, pack, and leave for the 5 PM flight, I can get there by 7, latest.

Maybe this is the moment I start living, too. Maybe she needs to see that I’m serious about doing life—about doing us—differently.

I book the flight.

Guess I’ll be using this afternoon to pack.

9

caleb

"I'm proud of you, son. Going after what you want. Finally stepping up and being a man."

My dad’s pride-filled voice booms through the phone in my ear as I weave through the chaos of Toronto Pearson Airport. People rush past on all sides, but I’ve only got my duffle bag slung over one shoulder, so maneuvering through the crowd isn’t too bad.

"Yeah, dad. You know me, your little ‘go-getter,’" I mutter, my voice laced with sarcasm.

Making him happy by following the plan he laid out for me makes my stomach twist, but... for some reason, his approval is still something I crave. Maybe because he’s all I have left. Without Sarah, he really is it. Well…Tony too, I guess. But who the hell counts Tony?