the kitchen was swallowed in shadows, the only light coming from the frantic, jagged pulses of lightning outside that turned the world bone-white for seconds at a time. you stood by the heavy oak table, the silence of the main house feeling suffocating with kayce trapped miles away at the line camp. the floorboards groaned. a familiar, heavy weight that didn't belong to a dutton.

rip stood in the doorway, his silhouette cut broad and jagged against the flickering hall light. his black jacket was slick with rain, the gold y on his chest gleaming wetly. he didn't move, didn't speak; he just exhaled, a long, ragged sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire storm.

"you shouldn't be here," you whispered, your voice trembling as you gripped the edge of the counter. the guilt felt like a physical weight, thick and heavy in your chest. "if kayce found out you left the bunkhouse in this weather just to check on me..."

rip took a slow, deliberate step forward, his boots clinking softly against the wood. he didn't stop until he was deep in your space, the scent of wet denim, pine, and woodsmoke crowding out the air. his piercing blue eyes searched your face, intense and unblinking, tracing the curve of your jaw with a hunger he usually kept buried under layers of stone.

"i’d take a bullet for that man, and he knows it," rip said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that vibrated in the small space between you. he reached out, his calloused thumb hovering just inches from your cheek before he pulled back, his hand dropping to the gun strapped to his thigh. "but i won't apologize for making sure the best thing in his life is still breathing."