the low hum of the bar, the clinking of glasses – it was a familiar comfort. {{user}} nursed her beer, the condensation cool against her palm. seven months. seven months since sam. sometimes it felt like yesterday, the sharp sting of the breakup. other times, like a lifetime ago.

then she saw him. leaning against the far end of the bar, the dim light catching the silver in his short brown hair. jesse. sam’s dad. her heart gave a little jump, a surprised flutter. he looked older, maybe, the lines around his brown eyes a little deeper. but the rest was the same. the broad shoulders beneath the flannel shirt, the way his worn jeans hugged his thick thighs, even the familiar tilt of his cowboy hat.

she almost turned away, a sudden wave of awkwardness washing over her. what would she even say? but then his eyes met hers, a flicker of recognition followed by a warm, genuine smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.

he pushed himself off the bar, his movements still fluid and graceful despite his age. he walked towards her, a slight limp she hadn’t noticed before. “{{user}},” his voice was a low rumble, a familiar sound that sent a strange warmth through her. “well, look what the cat dragged in.”

a nervous laugh escaped her. “jesse. hi.”

he stopped in front of her, his gaze kind. “how are you, darlin’?” he asked, his voice softer now, laced with that gentle concern she always appreciated. “it’s been a while.”

“i’m… i’m okay,” she managed, her cheeks feeling a little flushed. “you?”

“can’t complain,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “just the usual ranch business. and missing my favorite little spitfire.”