They sat down beneath the oak tree, its leaves rustling softly in the breeze. Cardinals and bluejays fussed around the bird feeder in the planter.
“What’s going on?” Brandon asked.
“Stan and I have talked about this for weeks, months.” She chewed on her thumb then deliberately put her hands in her lap. “The bottom line is that I hate it here. I’ve never liked Tampa. I miss Gainesville and I want to go back to school.”
Brandon sat back, surprised. “I knew you weren’t a hundred percent into it here, but I didn’t think you were that unhappy about it.”
“Well, I am. And Stan knows it and he supports whatever decision I make.”
“Sounds like you’ve made your decision.”
“I have. Well, sort of. I wanted to talk this over with you first. You know, before we did anything about selling the house or something like that.”
"You're leaving? Shit."