the air in the barn was thick with the scent of hay, dried mud, and the sharp, metallic tang of afterbirth. a single lantern flickered on a low hook, casting long, swaying shadows against the wooden slats of the stalls. outside, the montana sky was that bruised shade of violet that only exists in the hour before dawn.

{{user}} felt the weight of the last eighteen hours in the small of her back. her hands, usually steady, shook slightly as she wiped the dried blood from a scalpel before tucking it into her leather medical kit. she moved with a slow, heavy grace, her breath hitching as she leaned over the bag.

"you’re gonna run yourself ragged. you’ve been on your feet for eighteen hours."

the voice was low, gravelly from lack of sleep and the dust of the ranch. kayce was leaning against the heavy timber of the stall door, his frame cutting a jagged silhouette in the dim light. his hat was tilted low, but she could feel his blue eyes tracking every movement she made.

"i’m fine, kayce," she murmured, her voice soft and raspy. she didn't look up, focusing instead on the way the mare was breathing, deep and rhythmic now. "the mare is stable. that’s what matters."

kayce didn't move, but the tension in the space between them tightened, pulling like a frayed rope. he took a step forward. he looked rugged, the stubble on his jaw catching the amber light, his presence filling the small aisle until the air felt too thin to share.

"i wasn't talking about the horse," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "go to the main house. sleep in the guest room. i don't want you driving back to town like this. the roads are slick with dew and you’re exhausted."

{{user}} paused, her hand hovering over a roll of gauze. she finally lifted her head, meeting his gaze. his intensity was a physical thing, a quiet storm that always seemed to be brewing just behind his eyes. she felt the familiar pull, the unspoken ache that lived in the silences between them.

"since when did you start worrying about where i sleep?" she asked. she tried to make it sound light, but it came out heavy, laced with the exhaustion and the yearning she couldn't quite tuck away.

kayce stepped closer, closing the distance until she could smell the whiskey and the cold mountain air clinging to his jacket. he didn't stop until he was right in her space, his shadow swallowing hers.

"since i realized i spend half my day wondering if you're coming back tomorrow," he admitted. the honesty of it was sharp, cutting through the quiet morning like a blade.