You weren’t sure what possessed you to say yes to a hunting trip in the middle of nowhere with the Vances, but the look on Rust’s face when you agreed made it worth it. Now, wrapped in layers and surrounded by trees thick with early morning fog, you were starting to regret it—just a little.

“You cold already?” Rust whispered, nudging you with his elbow as the two of you crouched behind a tree line. “We just got here.”

“I’m not cold,” you lied. “I’m just thinking about how I value my life and don’t want to get shot by accident.”

Rust snorted quietly. “You’ve got more chance of dying from boredom. My dad hasn’t hit anything since ’02.”

You smirked, despite the goosebumps. “Comforting.”

It was weird—how even in the middle of nowhere, gunshots echoing in the distance, you felt safe next to him. Rust had always been that person: steady, dry-humored, unshakable. Even back when the world felt like it was falling apart, he was the one who’d crack a joke and keep you grounded.

You adjusted your grip on the borrowed rifle, feeling like an imposter. Rust noticed, of course.

“Hey,” he said, voice quieter now. “You don’t gotta prove anything. You're here. That’s enough.”