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Ruth
For the firsttime in two years, I sleep through the night without waking up in a cold sweat.
The sun is just starting to peek in through my bedroom window when I swing out of bed. I can’t remember the last time I woke to anything other than the frantic terror of a twilight nightmare. This feels like progress.
Pulling my hair up and throwing on my favorite pair of jogging shorts doesn't take long. I'm eager to get out into the fresh air and let my thoughts wander. As much as I love my tiny little apartment, being inside any one place for too long makes me feel claustrophobic. I take a deep breath and appreciate the way the knot that lives in the center of my chest is looser this morning.
It feels good to have Austin home.
“Don’t start,” I tug a tee shirt over my head and address the pointed look Twix is giving me through the glass of her terrarium. “I know this isn’t his home. You know what I meant.”
It’s too late. Images of sharing a space with Austin fill my head. What would it be like to wake every morning wrapped in the safety and security of those big arms? Snickers harrumphs loudly from her spot in the rumpled nest of blankets at the foot of the bed.
“You’re both impossible,” I sniff in their directions. “I’ll see you after my jog.”
Twix is already curled up on her rock beneath the heat lamp when I’m done tying my shoelaces and head out the front door.
This is my favorite time of day— while the morning is still fresh and untouched. The sky is mottled with the deep pinks and purples of sunrise. Before leaving, I check on the robin's nest tucked away in the corner of my rain gutter. It's a flurry of noise and activity. That always brings a smile to my face.
I stop to stretch at the edge of the path that juts out from the apartment complex lawn, just like I do every morning.
Even this is familiar. I use the same warm-up routine before starting my jog and loading my usual morning run playlist. Soon the pavement begins to disappear in a steady pounding beneath my sneakers. I match my breathing to the rhythm, feeling my mind clear with every step. This moment is the closest I ever get to meditation.
Usually, I’m all alone for most of the jog. The neighborhood doesn't really begin to stir for an hour. So I’m surprised to see another runner on the path just ahead of me.
I know it’s him even before I’m close enough to make out the details of Austin’s body.
There’s no mistaking the massive cut of muscle. The rippling shape of his athletic body cuts an imposing figure against the pink and orange swirls of dawn. He’s about half a block ahead of me on the jogging path and making steady progress.
Pulling my earphones free, I hustle to catch up.
“Austin?” I call out to keep from startling him.
His steady pace slows immediately when he realizes I'm there, and Austin falls into step beside me. Even jogging slowly enough to match my pace, Austin moves with the power and grace of a panther. I can't help but notice how he moves to the street-facing side of the path, blocking me from potential cars. It's a sweet, gentlemanly gesture. I don't know how so many people can misjudge him based on his outward appearance.
“Good morning, Ruthie.” Austin flashes a smile that warms something cold and detached inside of me. “You’re up early.”
"I always am," I laugh quietly, unable to meet the unbearable weight of his dark gaze. "I don't sleep very well. Besides, my day always improves when I spend time alone with nature first."
“Makes sense,” he nods. “Now that I can enjoy the outdoors whenever I want, I can’t seem to get enough. Being cooped up indoors feels nearly suffocating.”
His words hit me like a brick.
“That’s exactly how I feel about being inside,” I keep my eyes fixed on the cement in front of me, afraid to meet the mahogany depths of Austin’s gaze. “Like the walls start to close in after a while.”
Realization trickles like ice water down my spine, and I nearly fumble my next step.
"Oh god, Austin, I'm so sorry." I shake my head. "Here I am comparing myself to you when you've had your freedom stolen for the past two years."
"Ruth," Austin stops jogging beneath a fading street lamp in the rising dawn. "It's not your fault I went to prison. I wasn't exactly a saint before that night. I caught my first misdemeanor in junior high."
I force myself to meet his gaze.
"But Ruthie," Austin continues, his low growl rippling through me. "Saving you? That was the best decision I ever made. I would do it all again in a heartbeat."
It’s hard to talk past the sudden lump in the back of my throat. More than sweet, Austin’s words soothe the raw and ragged patches in my soul. My heart swells with something that feels too much like hope.
“I don’t want to say the wrong thing,” I admit. “I worry about sticking my foot in my mouth.”
