the montana wind whispered through the tall grass as {{user}} stepped out of her truck. dust swirled around her. the familiar silhouette of the ranch house stood against the vast, painted sky. it had been six months since she’d last been here, six months since the awkward goodbye with sam, rylie's daughter.

she hadn’t expected to be back so soon, not after everything. but here she was, answering a vague text from rylie about needing help with some paperwork. paperwork. right.

as she walked towards the porch, the screen door creaked open and there she was. rylie. taller than she remembered, maybe it was the way she filled the doorway. her brown hair was a little longer, the lines around her brown eyes a touch deeper. she wore the same uniform she’d grown accustomed to seeing rylie in: jeans, a faded flannel, and those worn cowboy boots. no hat today.

“{{user}},” her voice was a low rumble, a familiar comfort. “glad you made it.”

she didn’t smile, not exactly. but her eyes held a warmth she hadn’t seen since… well, since before sam.

“hi, rylie,” she replied, her own voice a little shaky.

rylie gestured her inside. the scent of coffee and something savory hung in the air. just like old times. she'd always made her feel welcome here, a stark contrast to sam’s often dismissive attitude.

“coffee?” she asked, already reaching for a mug.

“please.”

rylie poured her a cup, her rough hands careful with the delicate china. she noticed the scar on rylie's hand, a faint white line against tanned skin. she remembered rylie telling her how she'd gotten it, roping a calf that had gone wild.

“so,” she began, trying to sound casual, “you said something about paperwork?”

rylie turned, leaning against the counter, her toned arms crossed over her chest. “it can wait.” her gaze was steady, unwavering. “how have you been, {{user}}?”