Duncan knocked tentatively on the door to Ashton’s apartment. Sure, he’d been in there the night before—not to mention, in Ashton, but he still wasn’t 100% certain of his welcome.

He assumed it would be good. He could be wrong.

The door swung open and his Kitten greeted him with a smile. I wasn’t wrong, he thought fleetingly, before following her after she gestured him inside.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“I checked downstairs, Austin said you were up here still.” He’d spent the afternoon wandering around Madison, enjoying how busy it wasn’t in comparison to New York. There were people about—lots of them, in fact—but it wasn’t as hurried or as harried. It was . . . nice.

He’d enjoyed it. Which was a good thing, considering what he was, well, considering.

“Aussie said he had it under control and I’m exhausted.” She smirked back at him when he raised an eyebrow, clearly understanding his implication that he’d been the reason she was so tired, but not letting him get away with it. “Because I’m growing a little person inside me.”

“Not because I was inside you, got it.”

“You’re hilarious, you know that?” she sassed, rolling her eyes at him and giving him a little swat on the shoulder. A swat that he turned into hand-holding with one smooth move.

Or, at least, he thought it was pretty smooth. As she went to pull her hand back, he gripped her wrist gently and slid his hand up and around until they were palm to palm, then lowered their joined hands to his side. She looked down at them, and then back up at him before interlocking their fingers. For a moment, they just stood in the middle of her living area—in the same place that she’d jumped him less than twenty-four hours earlier—not saying anything.

It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just like they were both taking a much-needed minute.

“Are you, ah, staying?” she finally asked, breaking the silence. “I mean, tonight. Is that why you came back?”

“No. Yes.” He sighed, realizing that if he wanted to get what he’d come here for, he needed to just say it. “I want to stay here, but I told Aaron I’d hang out with him this week.”

“Oh, that’s totally, you know. He’s the reason you came here, I’m sure, I just thought that maybe you’d want to–ah, never mind. Anyway, I’m so happy to see you again because I think maybe I should apolo—”

“Ashton, take a deep breath and maybe let me do the talking? Please?” He waited a beat for her nod, then continued, “Sorry, I just have something I want to talk to you about and I’m trying to figure out how to say it without sounding like a loon.”

“Might I suggest avoiding no-breath sentences and extraneous information? I hear that makes it more likely you’ll come across as sane,” she joked, immediately bringing the mood back to the easiness of their earlier silence.

“Good advice.” He smiled, exerting just a little pressure on her hand, guiding her to sit next to him on her sofa. “You don’t have to apologize for anything, let’s start with that. I—I mean, last night was amazing. Surprising, but amazing.”

She made a noise between a snort and a snicker, which he couldn’t help but agree with. He didn’t know exactly what the sound was but the sentiment it painted? Spot on.

“I’m going to stay with Aaron because it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other and missing his wedding was”—he tilted his head up toward the ceiling, in thought—“it was hard for a lot of reasons. I’m only here for another few days, but I’d like to see you again while I’m here, if that’s okay?”

“I’d like that, too.”

“This feels weird, right?” He laughed, shaking his shoulders, forgetting momentarily that their hands were still joined, and that shaking himself meant shaking her too. “Oh, sorry.”

“’S’okay. It reminds me of when we were kids and I used to grab both of Aussie’s hands and just wobble them around. He’d laugh like mad. I think he was maybe four?”

“Ken used to love piggy-back rides when she was little. I acted like I hated it—and I did actually kind of hate it—but . . .” He trailed off, leaving the fact that he missed it now unsaid.

She got it, though. He could see it in her beautiful blue eyes, the way they reflected a sad smile back at him.

“I miss her. A lot. And part of the reason I came here was to see if, maybe, there was something here for me. Like, I don’t know, it was time for a change?” Letting go of her hand, finally, he swiped his own down his face, shaking his head. “Fuck, it’s getting heavy and that wasn’t my intention.”

“What was your intention then?” she asked, her face clear of judgment, her voice full of curiosity.

“To tell you I’m only here for a few more days, like I said, but that I’m planning on coming back. I need time to wrap everything up and make sure . . . make sure it’s the right choice, but this is where I want to be. I’ve felt different these past few days. Since I made the decision to come here—and now actually being here—I feel better than I have in years.”

“So you’re coming back to stay? Like, moving here?” she asked, with what he thought—he hoped—was excitement in her eyes.

He nodded and, as a smile formed on her lips, he felt his answering smile spread across his own face. “Maybe if you still want to, we can see each other again when I’m back?”

“And while you’re gone?”

“Sexting?” he joked, though a part of him—a large part, that was currently twitching in his pants at just the idea of dirty texting with Ashton—thought it wouldn’t be a bad way to pass the time.

“Maybe let’s just start with ‘how are you today?’ and ‘what’s happening?’ texts and see what happens,” she replied, a laugh on her lips telling him she wasn’t offended by his suggestion.

“Fine. But if the need to sext arises . . .”

“You’ll be the first to know.”

Ashton: Where are you?

Dunk: *King of My Heart Listen Link*

Ashton: Did you . . .

Ashton: Did you just send a Taylor Swift song link to me?

Ashton: And are you really on the roof?

Dunk: Fun fact—it turns out my new neighbor LOVES Taylor Swift.

Dunk: And I can hear you asking, but Duncan, how do you know?

Dunk: BECAUSE SHE PLAYS HER ALBUM AT MAX VOLUME ALL NIGHT AND DAY.

Ashton: So, you’re saying she’s getting a . . .

Dunk: Reputation.

Ashton: Reputation.

Ashton: Damn you, you ruined my punchline!

Dunk: It was a pretty weak joke, Ash.

Ashton: It was brilliant.

Dunk: Clearly, since we both thought of it.

Ashton: Whatever. So, seriously, what are you doing? Aside from enjoying beer on your rooftop, I mean.

Dunk: Honestly? Sitting on my couch in my underwear, eating ice cream.

Ashton: I don’t think that’s honesty.

Dunk: Why not?

Ashton: Because that’s not a very manly thing to be doing.

Dunk: Okay, one, don’t stereotype me. And two, it’s all this Tay-Tay. It’s messing with my emotions.

Ashton: Oh, I know allllllll about messy emotions.

Ashton: I burned my toast this morning. Cried. Dropped a jar of olives while doing inventory. Cried. Then puked because gross, olives. Saw a little puppy waiting outside for its owner to pick up a to go order. CRIED.

Dunk: You’re mental.

Ashton: I’m pregnant.

Dunk: WHAT?! No!

Ashton: And they say sarcasm doesn’t translate well in text.

Dunk: I turned in my resignation letter today.

Ashton: You did?

Ashton: How do you feel?

Dunk: TBD

Ashton: Oh. I was hoping for “never been better” or similar.

Dunk: It’s a good feeling, Kitten. It’s also just a little weird.

Ashton: I get that. I’m sorry. If I was there, I’d give you a hug.

Dunk: I know that’s a joke, but actually, I think it would be helpful.

Ashton: It’s not a joke.

Dunk: Raincheck?

Ashton: Raincheck.

Ashton: My appointment for the ultrasound is next week. The baby is about the size of an apple. And I only threw up once today.

Dunk: It’s a Christmas miracle!

Dunk: Side note: I love apples.

Ashton: It’s not Christmas, but it’s definitely a miracle.

Ashton: So, that’s all I had to say.

Dunk: As always, your updates on the status of your regurgitation habits is appreciated.

Ashton: As always, your sarcasm is noted.

Ashton: Final week, huh?

Dunk: Yeah. It’s been odd.

Ashton: In what way?

Dunk: My boss came into my office, sat down and offered to double my salary.

Ashton: Whoa.

Dunk: Like I said, odd.

Ashton: That’s not odd. That’s amazing. It means they want you. That you’re good.

Dunk: I want YOU to want me, to think I’m amazing . . .

Dunk: Yeah, I guess so.

Ashton: So, what did you say?

Ashton: If you said yes and you aren’t coming back here, I might cry harder than when I saw that puppy.

Ashton: Because that can’t have been easy to turn down?

Dunk: Actually, it was.

Dunk: And that’s how I knew I was making the right decision.

Duncan stared at the bubble on the screen—those three little dots that said Ashton was typing out a reply. It had been nearly a month since he’d come back to the city and made the decision to leave it behind.

The time had been both easier than it should have been and harder than he could have imagined. Kennedy’s final days, weeks, months, years were everywhere—in his apartment and all over the city, in various places they’d gone to for doctor’s appointments, blood tests, specialist meetings.

He hated it. He hated the reminder of what she’d been through and he hated that he was leaving those memories behind, because memories were all that he had left of her now.

The beeping of his phone brought relief from his spiraling thoughts; Ashton’s ability to do that, to throw him a lifeline was one of the reasons he was so eager to get back to Madison and start over. It wouldn’t be easy—he really wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he got there, if he was going to be able to find a job or a place to live or . . . anything, really—but he had the sense that it would be worth it.

Ashton: You are.

Two simple words, telling him that yes, she agreed with this somewhat-rash, probably insane plan to leave the city behind.

Ashton: If only to get away from your neighbor.

Ashton: Do you know all the words to all the songs now?

Ashton: Or just your favorites?

Dunk: It’s both. Because they’re all my favorites.

Dunk: I’m not lying. Those songs are growing on me.

Ashton: OMG. You love Taylor Swift.

Ashton: You have favorite songs and know all the words and you’re going to buy concert tickets aren’t you?

Ashton: Do you have a T-Swift T-shirt?

Ashton: Please say yes.

Dunk: I realize now that I should have kept that to myself.

His phone beep, beep, beeped at him again, three times in quick succession. He glanced down at the screen to see a series of Taylor Swift GIFs. The laugh that rose was light and happy, and he was grateful for it.

Ashton had thrown him a lifeline.

He was going to grip it with both hands and see if it was enough to keep him afloat.