He teaches me to read the mountain the way he does. Not as something to conquer or fear, but as something to understand. To respect.
We talk about everything. His childhood growing up at the base of the mountain. My career, the buildings I dream of designing. His time in the military before he became a warden. My relationship with Nate, the way his death left a hole I’m still learning to navigate.
We don’t talk about what this is. What we’re doing. Where it might go.
But it’s there in every look, every touch, every moment we choose to stay together instead of apart.
The nights are even better.
He takes me apart slowly, methodically, learning what makes me gasp and moan and beg. I learn him too. The way his breath catches when I kiss his neck. The sounds he makes when I take him in my mouth. The way his hands tighten on my hips when he’s about to come.
On the third night, after we’ve exhausted ourselves and are lying tangled in his sheets, he says something that stops my heart.
“I love you.”
I freeze, certain I misheard. “What?”
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with complete certainty. “I love you, Trista. I know it’s fast. I know it’s probably too soon to say it. But that’s what I feel.”
My throat tightens. “Duke…”
“You don’t have to say it back,” he continues quickly. “I’m not saying it to pressure you or because I expect anything. I’m saying it because it’s true. Because you deserve complete honesty, andthis is me being honest. I could never, ever lie to you, about anything.”
I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. “I love you too.”
His eyes widen. “You do?”
“I do. And you’re right, it’s crazy and fast and will probably make no sense to anyone who isn’t us. But fuck them. This is real.” I pull him down for a kiss. “It’s the most real thing I’ve felt in years.”
He kisses me back, deep and claiming, and then we’re moving together again, not frantic but intense. Purposeful. Like we’re sealing something with our bodies that our words have already promised.
This time when we come together, it’s different. Not just sex, though it’s still incredible. But something more. Something that feels like commitment. Like choosing each other not just for right now, but for whatever comes next.
Afterward, as we lie catching our breath, I think about what Nate would say about all this.
He’d probably laugh. Tell me it was about time I took a risk. Tell me to stop overthinking and just trust my instincts.
And then he’d tell me to hold on to this. To Duke. To whatever we’re building.
Because love like this doesn’t come around often.
And when it does, you don’t let it go.
Chapter Six
Duke
Iwalkhertoher car on the fourth morning. She’s wearing the same clothes as that first day, back to being the woman who wandered onto the wrong trail.
Except she’snotthat woman anymore. That woman was afraid. Uncertain. Grieving.
This woman is still grieving and will be for a long time. But she’s also hopeful. Present.Alive.
Idid that.Wedid that.Together.
At the trailhead parking lot, she sets her pack down and turns to face me.
“I hate this, but I have to go back,” she says. “To work. To my life.”
