Page 12 of The Escape Plan

“It’s scintillating,” I joke.

“You know, I could hook you up with much more interesting work in a heartbeat if you really wanted,” she says teasingly, dangling proverbial bait in front of me, as she often likes to do.

Over my two years working here, Freya’s become somewhat of a mentor and friend to me, and she’s been super candid with me about my future as a writer. Especially after I let it slip that I was a massive fan of Evoke, a lifestyle website OneWorld also owns.

Evoke is kind of like BuzzFeed, but with less quizzes about what food you’d be, and more interesting, thought-provoking pieces on culture and current events in the Boston area, all aimed at women in their twenties—like me.

I’d love to write the kind of op-eds Evoke publishes and leave local traffic laws far in my career past, and Freya has made it clear that she could easily get me started in an intern position.

Problem is, Evoke’s staff all work in-office at HQ, so I’d have to move to Boston.

“I know you could,” I tell her warmly. “And I appreciate it, I really do. But?—”

“Yeah, yeah.” Freya swats a hand good-naturedly. “You won’t leave Serendipity Springs.”

I nod. It’s not that I have anything against Boston, but I’m a lifelong Serendipity Springs resident, born and raised. My dad’s side of the family has been here since before my great-grandparents.

Even after I graduated from one of the local high schools, I went to Spring Brook college at the edge of town to study journalism and creative writing. I met Andrew there. Sophomore year, he lived in the dorm next to mine, and we soon became a couple.

Fast forward to today, when I’m freshly single and hypothetically ready to mingle—with no obligation to stay here for the sake of my relationship—and leaving town still doesn’t feel like a logical option.

For one, I cannot be a twenty-five-year-old intern living in the city. How would I pay rent? I wouldn’t even be able to afford a car so I could come home and visit my Gramps and my brother, which is a non-negotiable for me.

“You know I can’t afford to live in Boston as an unpaid intern, so I guess I’m stuck with traffic reports for now.”

“Traffic reports… and let’s not forget the star signs,” Freya says, and I snort with laughter. I don’t believe in star signs any more than I believe in pigs flying, but every week, Freya gives me the task of writing random advice for people born under every moon of the year.

Filler content, she calls it.

The highlight of my week,I call it. Which might sound a little sad, but Sissy Mayhew is a great believer in star signs, and this comes in very handy from time to time.

“Although, speaking of written in the stars,” Freya starts, her voice totally casual, though her dark eyes glint in a way that makes me think she’s testing the waters for something she has stuffed up her sleeve. “What if I told you there may soon be a full-timepaidwriting position available at Evoke?”

My breath catches and I’m sure I misheard. “Excuse me?”

Freya’s smile widens. “I was chatting with Nisha, Evoke’s editor, earlier this week, and they’re about to hire a new permanent staff writer. I told her I knew someone perfect for the job.”

“Really?” I bite out, trying to ignore the way my stomach flutters.

“Really,” Freya confirms. “Of course, it is an in-house position, so youwouldhave to move… but you’d be on salary. Not to mention the position comes with full benefits.”

“It does?”

She names a number.

“Wow,” I can’t help but say.

It’s more than I make now. Enough to rent a room in Bostonandbuy myself a secondhand vehicle.

But as much as my heart is racing at the thought of an opportunity like this, I find myself still wrestling with the feeling that I can’t, or shouldn’t, leave.

“Like I said, it’s a rare opportunity,” she says with a twinkling smile, though I already know this as well as my own name.

“Thank you for considering me,” I tell her, and I mean it—because the fact that this is happening at the same time my relationship has fallen apart seems almost… well,serendipitous.As much as I don’t believe in that kind of thing.

Though I don’t mention this to Freya—I once tried telling her that my boyfriend lives here in Serendipity Springs and this was one of the reasons I couldn’t take a Boston internship. In response, she just snorted and muttered something about there being plenty more manfish in the sea.

In hindsight, she might have been correct about that one.

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