Chapter 18 Eyes Up Here
eyes up here
ROXANNE
The first thing I feel is cold. The kind that sinks in and makes you forget what warmth ever felt like.
My ears are ringing, and my head is spinning, and somewhere in the fog I hear voices. Familiar, frantic ones. I try to lift my hand but it’s like I’ve forgotten how. I can’t stop shaking though I feel the warmth of rough hands pressing two fingers to my wrist and lifting one eyelid.
I blink against the sun, against the blur of movement. My vision sharpens just enough to catch a circle of stunned faces hovering above me. Then they all stop after my wet shirt falls away.
I gasp.
They’re not staring at me. They’re staring at it.
My scar.
The long, angry burst of marbled red veins snaking from my neck, across my collarbone, and down my arm.
Their faces suddenly come into focus as I blink more water from my eyes.
Duke’s face hovers above mine, shadowed by worry.
I squeeze my eyes shut. Damn it. Not like this.
I wasn’t ready for them to see. I wasn’t ready for him to see.
Suddenly, I feel more vulnerable than I have since my heels first sank into dirt back at the ranch.
I need to get up and away from all these prying eyes.
“Can you tell me your name?” Duke asks after he clears his throat.
“I know my name,” I say, trying to push myself up. “I don’t have a concussion.”
“What is your name?” Duke insists.
“Roxanne Elaine Denning.”
“What year is it?” Duke asks as Georgia wraps a foil blanket around me. I’m more appreciative that it’s covering my bare shoulders rather than the warmth it brings.
“2025,” I rasp.
Duke’s wet and corded arms help me to sit up.
He’s close, too close, and I shut my eyes for a moment in frustration.
I shouldn’t have done this. I wanted to be strong, I pretended to be, and then Topper yelled “Brace!” from over my shoulder and my helmet strap felt as though it was strangling me.
I know it was irrational, but as the water surged around me, my mind kept telling me I couldn’t breathe.
“I’m good,” I say, trying to push up to my feet.
A rush of blood hits my head, and I wobble, falling against Duke’s broad chest. His arms close around me instantly.
Warm and solid and far too steady. I’m not sure what’s more unnerving, the genuine concern in his eyes or the way my heart slams into my ribs like it’s trying to claw its way closer to him.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, and for a second, I forget how to use my lungs.
I shake off the comforting lull I start to feel in his arms and push back from him. “Where’s my shirt, I’m ready to get back in.”
“We had to cut it off you,” Georgia says as she starts to pack up her first aid kit. “Shouldn’t have been wearing a top like that in the first place.”
“I think we’ve all had enough time on the water today,” Rusty says, handing Duke a foil blanket as well. “Georgia will take you back to the ranch, Roxanne. I’ll drive you two back to the Jeep and then come back to pick up everyone else.”
“No need to stop because of me,” I protest. “I—”
Leo smiles and rubs my back. “It’s okay, darling. We got a good hour in. Everyone’s cold and drenched.”
“That was pretty badass even if we fell in, am I right?” Allie says, drying her hair with a towel.
“That’s right,” Topper says. The corner of my mouth quirks up. He pulls Allie into him and squeezes. Her tiny body almost melts into him, and it makes me happy how comfortable they seem. There’s a touch on my shoulder. I whip around, half expecting to see Duke, but it’s Georgia.
“Come on, lady. You did really well, but let’s get you back to the ranch. I’ve got an extra sweatshirt in the truck.”
I purse my lips and reluctantly get into the back seat of the truck while Georgia and Rusty slip into the front. I’m thankful to slip into Georgia’s oversized Colorado State sweatshirt. We ride in silence until Georgia and I switch to the Jeep.
“I’m sorry,” I manage to say as the Jeep pulls back out onto the washed-out road. “Thank you for helping me.” I want to speak first so that Georgia isn’t tempted to bring up my scar.
“Nothing to be sorry about, except what you were wearing,” she says, flashing me a quick smile.
“Yes, I’m aware,” I say with a sigh.
“I’m not here to pile on,” she says. “But this isn’t New York, Roxanne. You’re on a ranch with people who’ve seen the worst life can throw at them. We take safety seriously here, not just for your sake, but for everyone else’s peace of mind.”
“I didn’t plan on falling in,” I mutter.
“No one does,” she says. “But we dress for the fall, not the ride.”
“You’re right.”
“You’ve got to be smart out here,” she adds. “No one here wants to see you get hurt. That includes Duke. Even if he’s terrible at showing it.”
“It was stupid. I put everyone in danger, and I know better.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. People fall in. It does happen, and what happened today, well, it could have been worse, but it wasn’t. End of story.”
I glance at her. “I appreciate you looking out for me, and I’m sure the rest of the residents appreciate you doing that for them as well.”
Georgia shrugs. “Combat medic for five years. I’ve seen what happens when people think they’re invincible.”
“And now you keep people from getting themselves killed in the mountains?”
“That, and make sure no one sneaks their cell phone into goat yoga.”
I blink. “Goat yoga?”
“It’s a thing,” she says, deadpan. “You practice your poses while baby goats hop all over you.”
“I see. I didn’t know that was on the healing menu,” I say with a chuckle. “I would think people would want their phones to take pics of all the baby goats.”
“True, but we’ve had too many incidents where the goats ran off with the phones.”
I smile, but it fades as soon as I glance down at my scraped palms. “Guess I still have a lot to learn.”
“You’re not the only one,” she says, her voice softer now. “We all came here because we needed to learn something.”
“That’s why we came here. To learn. I’m excited to start my interviews and thank you for signing your release form. I’m glad you’re so open to talking.”
“Oh, you can ask me anything. I’m an open book. I realize there are a lot of vets who won’t want to be interviewed and that’s totally their call, but I don’t mind telling my story.”
I smile and glance at her. She drives one-handed, her arm draped across the open window, wind teasing her long red hair into a halo of copper strands.
Freckles dust her cheeks, catching the late sun.
She looks completely at ease—strong, self-assured, and somehow softer for it.
I can’t imagine the things she’s seen in combat.
She lost part of her leg because of her service, and yet, she glows.
I wish I knew how to carry myself like that—unbothered, unafraid.
“Can you give me the highlight reel of your story?” I ask. “I know we’ll sit down for a full interview, but I’ve been excited to get to know you better since we met.”
Georgia chuckles, eyes still on the road.
“The highlight reel, huh? Let’s see… born in Colorado Springs, joined the Army in my second year of college.
I was a combat medic, spent most of my twenties patching up people who thought they were invincible.
” She pauses, a half smile tugging at her lips.
“Turns out I wasn’t either. My convoy hit an IED during a routine patrol overseas.
I came home minus part of my right leg and plus a new perspective. ”
“I can’t imagine,” I say.
“I try to stay positive and hey, I’m here. I have friends who didn’t make it back,” she says. “Running the medical and wellness programs for the ranch also keeps me busy and grounded. The whole point here is healing without hiding from the hard stuff.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It’s not. Don’t let me fool you. I still have my ugly cries in the shower. My own sister Baylee? She was more freaked out about me losing my leg than I was. We were so close and now things are so awkward because she stopped knowing how to be around me.”
“I’m so sorry.”
She shrugs as the ranch gate comes into view. “Thank you, but it will work itself out.”
“Does Baylee live here?”
“She moved to LA with my dad after he divorced our mom. You’ve probably seen her videos. She runs Cake Bae with her boyfriend.”
All I can do is gape. “Cake Bae?”
“Yeah, she makes those cakes that look like real objects.”
“I—I know who she is. I can’t believe this. Am I the only one without a famous sibling? I love her videos. She makes celebrity wedding cakes too.”
“Yep, she’s very talented.”
“That’s an understatement. I hope you can work things out with her.”
“We will.”
“Well, thank you for chatting and thank you for the ride back.”
“Hey, I wanted to get out of there. Driving back with a crew smelling like fish is no fun.”
We finally arrive back at the lodge. The afternoon sun feels welcome on my face as I step out of the Jeep. “I’ll get this sweatshirt back to you,” I say, closing the door.
“Sure, whenever. You sure you’re feeling okay?”
“I’m a little soggy and embarrassed, but I’m good, really.”
“Okay, get some rest. One of us will check on you later.” She smiles and waves before pulling away.
The gravity of the day doesn’t fully hit me until I close the door to my room, which has been freshly cleaned. I slip out of the rest of my clothes and into the hottest shower my skin will tolerate. I tie my robe tight around me, dry my hair, and slip into the comforting embrace of my bed.
I close my eyes, which feel so heavy, but all I can hear is the rush of the river and one line that cuts through it like a lifeline.
I’ve got you, Trouble.
That line keeps echoing in my ear. Even with everything rushing around us, he said it with such certainty. I open my eyes remembering Duke’s expression, filled with worry, as he worked to revive me.
The worst part about that line is … I liked it.
Even half-frozen and humiliated, part of me wanted to lean into it—into him.
Ugly, angry sobs claw their way out of my chest. My face burrows into my pillow, desperate to muffle the sound, but not even feather-down can dampen the volume of my cries.
The dam I’ve built inside myself doesn’t just break. It shatters.
I cry like I haven’t in years.
Not only from what happened on the river or even the embarrassment of my scar being exposed, but from all the garbage I’ve been holding onto since I was last in Colorado.
These tears aren’t only about today, they’re years of grit, grief, and longing, stuffed deep down so I could keep pretending I had it all handled.
That’s what women are supposed to do, right?
I shift in the bed reaching for my tissue box on the nightstand and the spare notebook I keep in the drawer for any thought that starts to hammer in my head at 2 a.m. I feel this in my bones and that’s why I want to write it down.
Women live in a world that praises our strength, our audacity, our unshakable resolve. And yes, we are strong. We carry more than most people will ever know.
But somewhere along the way, the world started confusing strength and resilience with imperviousness. As if showing emotion makes women fragile. As if vulnerability is a crack in the armor instead of a sign we’ve been through battle.
We’re expected to keep it all in. Keep it together. Never crack. Never cry. Never need. That’s the definition of a badass woman.
But here’s the truth no one puts on a movie poster: strength isn’t about never showing emotion. Sometimes the strongest thing a woman can do is let herself fall apart, because then, and only then, can she begin again.
I set my pen down and release an exhausted breath. I blow my nose and keep putting my thoughts to paper. Is this why I had to come to Colorado? To fall apart so I can put myself back together again?
And how can I do that when I’ve let my pride cloud every sensible judgment I have?
I know I should have gone shopping before the trip and packed the right gear and clothing, but my selfish pride told me if I do that, I’ll be more tempted to put myself out there again.
And it was the same pride that told Duke that I was up for rafting when we both knew I wasn’t.
I sob a little more and rack up piles of Kleenex on the bed. In truth, the more the tears flow, the better I feel because it’s less for me to hold onto inside.
Soft, familiar knocks sound at my door.
“Come in,” I say, my voice quivering.
Allie and Leo open the door and come to my bedside.
“Oh, Rox, I’m so glad you’re okay,” Allie says.
“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” I say through a sniffle.
She pulls away for a moment, and her eyes widen. “Leo, she’s … she’s crying. She’s actually crying.”
“I’m getting you some water and then I’m getting in this bed and holding you until forever,” Leo says.
They are both shocked because they have never really seen me shed a single tear for any reason.
Leo flings the comforter aside and snuggles next to me.
He folds himself around me and holds me as my body quakes with more sobs.
Allie lies on my other side rubbing my back and in this moment, I’m reminded that the reason I have been able to be this strong is the unwavering friendship of these two people who I love more than anything.
“I’m so proud of you, darling,” Leo says as he kisses my forehead.
I laugh and dab my eyes and nose. “What are you proud of? Was it my graceful exit of the raft or the fact that they had to tear my inappropriate clothing off on the shore?”
Leo and Allie both chuckle.
“I have been waiting for you to ugly cry for years,” Leo says.
“Me too,” Allie says. “This is real progress.”
“All that you have been through, all that you have endured, you packed up and put inside you. Now, you’re going to feel lighter, better because you don’t have these tears weighing you down.”
I lie flat on my back and Allie wraps her hand around mine. “You don’t have to carry it anymore, and anything else you do, we’re going to be here to help with the baggage.”
“And the emotional support snacks,” Leo cuts in.
“And the passive-aggressive playlist curation,” Allie adds with a wink.
“Anything,” Leo says, brushing a hand through my hair. “We’ve got you.”
And I believe them. I really believe them.