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“If you want something, then you need to reach out and take it,” Caz said softly. “She wouldn’t be staying for nothing. She’d be staying for you. And you’re worth it.”

“You have to say that, you’re my mum.”

“I mean it,” said Caz. “The other stuff, it’s just… details. There are other jobs in the world, other places than Whitebridge, you know?”

And a glimmer of light appeared in Hope’s mind.

There were other places, weren’t there? And other jobs too.

???

“You fell in love.”

The way Quinn said it made it sound like an accusation.

“I did not,” Ava said to the screen.

“Bullshit,” said Quinn. “Ava Stanford, you actually did it. You learned how to love again. I’ll be damned. You know, I was doubtful about this whole disappearing off to England to change yourself thing, but I think it’s worked.”

“I’m not in love,” Ava tried again.

“Are you not?” Quinn asked. “Because it sounds a lot like you are.”

“No, I’m not. I just… It’s just…”

“Just what?”

Ava sighed. “Just… Leaving is harder than I expected, that’s all.”

Quinn mimicked her sigh. “Because you’re in love.”

“I am not.”

Quinn rolled her eyes. “Alright then, little miss ‘I’m not in love,’ why are you so miserable about leaving a woman you’ve barely even kissed then?”

“We’ve done more than that,” Ava said, slightly smugly. Then she remembered the smell of Hope’s body and her cheeks flushed.

“You what? You’ve… you two have… Ava!” Quinn looked gratifyingly shocked.

“I’m an adult.”

“You left here a heartbroken adult. Apparently, we’re feeling better.”

“Maybe,” said Ava. She thought about the way Hope made her feel, about the way she looked forward to seeing her, the way she made her smile. “But that doesn’t change how things are.”

“Does it not?” asked Quinn. “Because from where I’m sitting, this Hope has changed your life for the better and you’re about to walk away from that. Not that I don’t want you home, but, well, I can see how there might be other priorities here.”

Ava shook her head. “It’s unrealistic.”

Quinn snorted. “Fuck realism.”

“Quinn!”

“What? Can I remind you what your life was like before? You slept on my couch. You barely moved to go to work. You walked around in a haze of pain and heart-break all day and cried yourself to sleep at night. Are you going to argue that there hasn’t been an improvement?”

“No.”

“You found the balm, the magic potion that makes things better, that helps you heal. But you’re willing to walk away from it?”