She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head. “No.”
“You really like living in New York that much?”
“New York has its downsides, but yes, yes I do. I like the bodega down the block from my office. I love the espresso from my neighborhood coffee shop.”
“But the lights, the noise, the smell of the subway,” I say, remembering why I didn’t enjoy visiting my sister.
“There are downsides to living anywhere, and yes, you never know what you could step in walking down the sidewalk, but it’s… it’s the feeling that you’re stitched into a million lives at once. That you’re walking through history and heartache and hope all in the same block.”
My heart is aching as I listen to all of Roxanne’s favorite places in New York. I love seeing her face light up when she talks about the place she considers home, but it only solidifies how temporary her time here really is.
“You can sit in a coffee shop and overhear four different languages,” she continues. “You can stumble into a hole-in-the-wall bookstore that smells like dust and dreams. You can watch a man propose on the subway and a woman cry into her phone at the same time, and somehow both moments make sense.”
“Yes, but where can you get cuddled by a rescue turkey?” I ask.
She tips her head. “That’s tougher to find.”
Roxanne reaches over and touches my arm, sending a little spark through me.
“Do you think you could live anywhere else?” she asks. “Are you going to be tied to this ranch forever?”
The question lands heavier than she probably means it to. No one’s ever asked me that before—not like that. Part of me wantsto tell her yes, that I’d follow her anywhere if she asked. But the other part—the one that’s still learning how to breathe here—knows I’m not built to leave. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Uh … I don’t know.”
The corner of her mouth quirks up. “I guess that’s an answer.”
“That’s best I can do in a tent, in the woods, in a rainstorm.”
“Fair. We’ll save the big existential questions for a more suitable setting.” She sits up. “We better get some rest.”
“Right, let me grab your sleeping bag, unless you want to head back to your tent, and don’t you dare think for one minute you’re bothering me.”
“I’d like to stay. I’ve never been good at sleeping in the woods.”
“You got it.”
After grabbing some of her things, I set everything up, and she yawns as she crawls into her bag. Outside, the rain has slowed to a lazy drip, and I’m thankful the storm is finally passing.
She murmurs, “Goodnight, Duke,” her voice feather-light, but it sends a rush of something warm through my chest anyway. I love that she says my name. I only hope this continues.
“Goodnight, Roxanne,” I say back, just as soft.
For a few minutes, neither of us moves. The only sounds are the rain, the occasional shuffle of sleeping bags, the steady beat of breathing that slowly syncs between us. Eventually, her breaths grow deeper, slower. I close my eyes, and for the first time in a long, long while, I fall asleep to the sound of someone else’s heartbeat.
catch and release
DUKE
My eyes stutter open,and all at once my heart punches hard against my chest.
Hot damn!
Roxanne is still sleeping tucked against me under our covers, one arm slung across my stomach, one bare knee brushing my thigh where the sleeping bags have slipped down a little in the night. I close my eyes again, for a second, trying to memorize the weight of her, the way she fits against me like the missing piece I’ve been needing all these years.
Eventually, Roxanne stirs, her body pressing closer in that soft, sleepy way that knocks every thought clean out of my head.
She lets out the smallest sigh and lifts her head, blinking up at me.
