Epilogue
ROXANNE
We had to wait three excruciating days for the contest results. When Priti calls to tell us the results, I start to shake so bad I can hardly hang onto the phone.
“Roxanne, are you sitting down?” Priti’s voice booms through the speaker before I can even say hello.
“No, I can’t sit at all. What’s happening?” I ask, putting her on speaker so Duke can hear.
“You’re about to be very proud,” she says. “Firebird Ranch placed second—right behind the Detroit Garden Project!”
“Duke …” I set the phone down on my counter and Duke throws his arms around me.
“I can’t believe this,” Duke says, his eyes misty.
“This is amazing!” I say.
“So you now you can finally forgive me for sending you to Colorado,” Priti says.
I feign a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I suppose.”
“You should be thrilled. Ten million in grant funding, a national feature, and World Explorer’s going to include Firebird in our fall special. You two have made quite an impression.”
Duke releases me and wipes under his eyes. It’s easy to see a weight has been lifted.
“Priti, that’s incredible,” he says. “Thank you for believing in this project. And thank you for sending this hell on heels my way.”
Priti’s laugh fills the room. “I love you both. Roxanne, let’s work out your next assignment soon. For now, I expect you to take a break. No pitches, no deadlines. Take some time. You’ve earned it.”
When the call ends, Duke and I stare at each other, caught somewhere between disbelief and relief.
He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “Still can’t believe we got second. There were so many worthy communities.”
“You’ll be able to do so much good with that ten million dollars.”
He nods, eyes bright. “And thanks to Charlie, Jolene Fox, and others, we’ve got another eight million in private donations. That means the therapy wing, the new cabins, even expansion into winter programs—it’s all going to happen.”
I smiled, tears threatening. “So Firebird’s safe?”
He stepped closer, brushing his thumb across my cheek. “Safe and thriving. You did that, Trouble.”
“We did that,” I corrected.
He presses his forehead to mine. “So what now?”
“Now?” I grin. “Now we figure out what ‘next’ looks like. Maybe both coasts. Maybe both worlds.”
He laughs softly. “Firebird East and Firebird West.”
“I like it,” I say, though I can already see it—the story still unfolding. Multiple locations to help vets all across the nation.
Priti stayed true to her word and insisted I take a long break before my next assignment. Duke agreed to “try on” New York for a while, and he still managed to Zoom with Rusty and Topper every morning to talk shop about the ranch.
Over the next two weeks, I showed him my New York—the one that doesn’t make it into the movies.
We walked the High Line at sunrise with Birch Coffee in hand, wandered the Ramble’s quiet trails, and ended a night tucked into a tiny jazz club on Seventh Avenue, the music soft enough that he could still hear me laugh.
At Katz’s Deli, I finally introduce him to a proper pastrami sandwich.
“How am I supposed to eat this?” he asked, staring at the tower of meat between two trembling slices of rye.
“With your hands, obviously.”
He picked it up like it might detonate. “I’ve wrestled steers smaller than this.”
“Just take a bite.”
When he finally did, an animal sound escaped him. “Okay,” he said, mouth full. “You were right about this one.”
“Obviously.”
Meeting his family was the best part. His mother, Francine, welcomed me like I’d been part of the family for years.
London hugged me the second we met, and Byrdie—bright-eyed and unstoppable—had Duke braiding her hair before dessert.
Watching him with them nearly undid me. He was so gentle, so sure of himself, and yet there was a restlessness beneath it all, like even surrounded by laughter, he was still wishing he could hear the wind through the aspens.
After a walk home after dinner one night, he slipped his hand into mine.
“You were right,” he said quietly.
“About what?”
“You really do have the best bagels on Earth.”
I laughed, bumping his shoulder. “You can admit you like it here.”
“I do,” he said after a beat. “But, you know … ”
“I know, it’s not the same.”
The next evening, Priti called to tell me my new project could be handled remotely. When I hung up, Duke was standing at the window, staring out at the skyline as if he were trying to find the mountains hidden behind it.
That’s when I knew it was time to get him home.
By the next morning, my mind is made up.
“Six months,” I tell him over coffee. “Let’s start with six months in Colorado. I can work remotely, see how it fits. If it doesn’t, we’ll come back here for the spring.”
He looks up from his mug, eyes lighting like sunrise over the peaks. “Really?”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to smile.
“You won’t regret this, Trouble.” He leans across the counter and kisses my cheek. “Fall on the ranch is the best. Apple picking, golden aspens, cozy hay rides … and wait until you see what we do at Christmas.”
A few days later, we’re on the plane. When we step out of the truck at Firebird, the entire crew is waiting, but it’s Jameson who is the most excited to see us.
The mountains stretch wide and familiar around us, the air thin and sweet with pine. For the first time in months, Duke looks entirely himself again. Once Jameson barks at Duke, he rolls on the ground at my feet.
He glances over, eyes soft. “Told you Jameson missed you more.”
I laugh sitting down so I can rub Jameson’s belly. “He texted you about it, didn’t he?”
“Something like that.”
The ranch hums with life—horses snorting in the paddocks, laughter from the lodge kitchen, and the faint crackle of a bonfire being built for the night.
You know, I really did miss this place.
By the time the first leaves start to turn, our new routine feels effortless.
Duke converted one of the guest rooms upstairs into an office for me—wide windows overlooking the paddocks, a lovely large desk, and shelves he built himself.
The first morning I moved in, he stood in the doorway, pretending to be casual.
“Think it’ll do?” he asked.
“Um, it couldn’t be more perfect,” I said.
Life at Firebird hums as always, but it’s different as it prepares for the season change.
Summer was golden—wild and alive, the air full of laughter and campfire smoke.
Fall feels quieter. Calmer. The ranch has a rhythm that slows with the season: horses’ breath steaming in the early mornings, frost glittering on the fences, and Duke’s coffee always waiting for me on the porch before sunrise.
Honestly, I’ve always been a sweater weather girl.
I love these fall nights by the fire whether that’s indoors or out.
Most mornings when I wake, Duke has already been up for hours as he progresses through his usual routine on the ranch.
He does sleep in with me on Saturdays so I can revel in waking up next to his beautiful face.
On this particular Saturday, I was surprised that Duke’s side of the bed is warm but empty.
The smell of coffee hits me so I guess he just couldn’t sleep in this time.
I hear a grunt and the familiar pad of paws coming down the hallway. It’s Jameson, but instead of jumping up on the bed to shower me with sloppy kisses, he’s marching in slow with an object in his mouth. He comes to my bedside and sits as if he’s patiently waiting for something.
“What do you have there, buddy?” I ask.
Duke comes in a minute later holding two coffees. “Mornin’, beautiful.”
He hands me a steaming hot cup. I say thank you, but the look on my face gives Duke pause.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s Jameson. He’s acting strange and there’s something in his mouth.”
“Oh? Let’s see.” Duke comes to my side of the bed and kneels down.
Just to be sassy, Jameson moves his head to avoid giving up his prize to Duke. Eventually, Duke is able to wrestle it out of his slobbery mouth.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Not sure. Maybe when I get all the slobber off I can actually see what it is.” Duke wipes the object on his jeans and then inches closer to the bed. He doesn’t get up and stays on one knee. “Let’s see what this is.”
The air suddenly shifts when Duke slowly opens what I can now see is a velvet ring box.
Oh
My
God
My pulse would run right out of my body if it could. There in the box is the biggest diamond I’ve ever seen.
“Duke,” I can barely get that out.
“Roxanne …”
“Is …Is that what I think it is?”
“Oh, you mean this ring? If you think it’s an engagement ring, then you’d be correct.”
“I’m going to spontaneously combust.”
Duke chuckles, sets the box down on the bed and pulls it from its cradle. “Before you do that … Roxanne Elaine Denning, will you marry me?”
I stop breathing as he reaches for my hand which I gladly extend to him as he slides the ring on my finger.
“Will you be my wife?”
“Yes! Yes!” I cry throwing my arms around his neck.
Duke laughs into my shoulder, but when he pulls back, his eyes are suspiciously shiny. “You just made me the luckiest man in Colorado.”
“No,” I whisper, shaking my head, tears slipping free. “I’m the lucky one. You … this ranch … this life …” My voice breaks. “Duke, you gave me back pieces of myself I thought I’d lost forever.”
“Trouble, you did the same for me.” He kisses me softly. “More than you know.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat, clutching his shoulders because if I don’t, I might float clean off the bed and into the rafters.
Jameson grunts, jumps on the bed and wedges his bowling-ball body directly between us, like he’s breaking up a bar fight.
I laugh, full and bright, wiping tears with the back of my wrist. “He’s upset he didn’t get to propose first.”
“He tried,” Duke mutters. “He was supposed to carry the ring box, not hold it hostage.”
Jameson snorts again and then rolls on his back for a belly rub. I gladly oblige. “Don’t worry, buddy. You’re still the real prize.”
Duke grins. “Oh good. Glad we cleared that up. Wouldn’t want King Jameson to feel overshadowed by our engagement.”
Jameson wiggles, pleased beyond measure.
I suddenly feel like I’m standing in the sun. I’m here with the love of my life, a ring on my finger, and a jealous bulldog demanding belly rubs. An overwhelming feeling settles on me …
I didn’t just find a way back to myself.
I found my way home.