“What’s in there?” I ask as he meets me around the hood.

“Just some snacks and bottles of water.” He laces his fingers with mine. “Come on. Merk is going to lose his mind if we don’t get moving.”

He’s right. Merk is trotting in place, whining his frustration with not being able to tear through the open field. I unclip the leash and let him loose to chase poor, helpless butterflies and roll around in the grass. He’s probably going to need a bath when we get home, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I can have Ethan take care of that while I study.

We pass the football field, where a group of teenagers toss a ball around. A few girls sit on the sidelines watching them play, shouting and laughing.

“So carefree,” I observe.

He squeezes my hand. “We were like that once.”

I can feel his eyes on me, and I look up, seeing the shadows there. Trying again with him means sometimes we get bogged down with the past instead of staying in the present. “Well, you had your moments, but I was always pretty zeroed in on the goal. If it wasn’t for you, I probably never would’ve had any fun.”

“Totally untrue, we had fun all the time. You had big plans. You knew exactly what you were doing and how you were going to get there, you just figured out how to prioritize it all better than I did.”

I laugh a little at that. “I thought I knew what I was doing; half the time I had my head in the clouds.” I whistle for Merk as we approach the tree line, and he changes course, running circles around us.

I clip the leash back on, giving Merk slack so he can sniff around on the path. Under the cover of the trees it’s cooler, and beams of sunlight filter through gaps in the branches.

We continue down the path, away from the sound of the kids playing ball in the field. Eventually we have to unlink our hands when the path narrows, and we’re forced into single file.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Sure.”

“What made you decide not to become a doctor?”

I can read between the lines. He wants to know if he’s the reason, or maybe Avery. Neither is true, although I suppose in some way, both were factors in the ultimate decision. “For the first two years of college, premed was my goal, but then I started to realize I didn’t love the idea of setting up my own practice, and I didn’t want to be a surgeon. It’s the people part of the job I love the most, being able to help and being involved in the treatment plan beyond signing off on papers and interpreting test results, so I switched gears and went into nursing instead.”

Ethan chews his bottom lip, regarding me thoughtfully. “So it had nothing to do with finances?”

“Not for me, no,” I reply, tugging on Merk’s leash when he tries to go after a squirrel.

“That seems like a loaded answer.”

I debate how to frame this. There’s so much he doesn’t know about my life in the time he was gone from it. And yet, as much as I’ve changed, much remains the same. “Well, Avery was all for the switch because it was less expensive, and I wouldn’t be in school as long.”

“Doctors make a lot more than nurses, though,” Ethan says.

I glance at him. “It was never about the paycheck. Doctors also work insane hours. I wanted some balance between my job and my life, and Avery wanted a family.”

“So that’s why you went into nursing? So you could start a family?”

There’s discomfort in this conversation. I’m glad I have to focus on navigating the uneven terrain rather than seeing his reaction. “I didn’t make the decision for him; I made it for me. He wanted to start a family, but I … didn’t.”

“You always wanted a family, though.”

“Eventually yes, with the right person.” I sigh, considering the year leading up to my separation from Avery. It had been coming for a long time; the end of us had been inevitable from the beginning, for exactly the reasons Avery cited in the grocery store parking lot. “And that wasn’t him. It took me a while to recognize that. I wanted to go back to school; he wanted to focus on starting a family. We were moving in different directions, and at some point, we both realized it wasn’t going to work, for a lot of reasons.” At first I loved the way he seemed to need me, constantly bringing me to work events, meeting me for lunch during the week as often as he could, calling during the day just to check in. After a while it felt suffocating, and the more he tried to pull me closer, the more I pulled away.

Ethan’s quiet for a few seconds. “So now you’re free to do what you want.”

I’m glad for the shift away from Avery. “It was always my choice, but for a while it wasn’t practical. I want to be a nurse practitioner, but I’m missing a couple of courses, which is why I’m taking stats, and then a second stats course in the winter, so hopefully I’ll gain admission into the master’s program next fall.”

“At the University of Minnesota?”

“That’s the plan.”

He nods but doesn’t comment on it further. I wonder if we’re both thinking the same thing—about whether he’ll be here next fall or somewhere else. This plan of mine has gotten me through the most difficult part of the separation with Avery. I needed a sense of purpose so walking away from our failed marriage didn’t feel like a mistake. A goal, even a long-term one, helped ease the transition from partner to individual again. I’d been so used to being Avery’s everything, and then I was just … on my own. And I used that time to figure out what I needed. What I wanted. I don’t want to lose sight of that now. But with Ethan back in my life, it’s harder to focus. I know I don’t want to lose him again. But I can’t let him consume me, either.