We must have been out of cell phone range for a while, because as we get close to Rush Creek and home, all of a sudden, my phone chirps and coughs up a whole bunch of notifications. Texts, from Louisa, from my mom, from Amanda. I sift through them—nothing essential. Louisa wants to know what’s up with the bad boy, my mom tells me one of my cousins is passing through tonight on a trip from the Redwood National Forest to Seattle and she’s making ropa vieja so I should be back by 7:30 and hungry, and Amanda is nailing down our plans for tomorrow night. Can you meet at Oscar’s at 7? she wants to know.

Then I get distracted by a voicemail. From Hettie at the library.

“I’m just going to listen to this voicemail. It’s from my ex-boss.”

“Sure.” Brody hums, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. Not scowling, not at all. I smile, too, thinking of how totally bowled over he looked after I made him come. Gratitude is hot.

Rachel, the voicemail says. Don’t hang up on me, even though I know you might be tempted. We can give you your job back.

I think I make a small, startled sound, because Brody’s eyes leave the road and find my face for a second, making sure everything’s okay. I smile, signaling that it is, but he still looks concerned, and his hand finds my thigh again.

I like them both, that concern and that hand on my thigh.

I listen to the rest of Hettie’s explanation, which is long and complicated and concludes with, Call me first thing Monday.

Right, the call came in on East Coast time right around five p.m. on a Friday. Not gonna learn anything more till Monday.

“They can give me my job back,” I tell Brody.

His eyes leave the road again. “What?”

“So apparently one of my coworkers gave notice yesterday and they can reallocate her position as long as I’m willing to leave children’s for adult, which I totally am. So I have my job back!”

“That’s great!” Brody says. “You must be psyched.”

“Uh—” I say.

To be honest, I can’t figure out what I’m feeling. Relieved? Maybe. I mean, this is huge, right? Basically, the plan is back on track, minus Werner, and the only way to think about Werner is as a wrong turn.

But I am enjoying my strange Rush Creek detour. This time out of time, nothing happening the way I expect. There’s something about knowing it will end—and how—that is disappointing.

“I think I’m not quite ready for my vacation to be over,” I tell Brody. That’s a thing, right? Of course it is. And as soon as I say it, I feel better, because no one wants to go back to work.