the snow outside was a white wall, erasing the montana horizon until the only thing left in the world was the small, flickering radius of the woodstove. kayce moved with a quiet, heavy grace, his spurs silent on the rug as he adjusted a log. the orange glow caught the rugged lines of his face, softening the intensity of his blue eyes just enough to make the air between you feel thick and fragile.

the power had been out for hours. it was just the two of you, the smell of pine smoke, and the heavy weight of years spent apart.

you walked over to him, the floorboards creaking under your feet. your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that contrasted with the stillness of the cabin. you held out a mug of coffee, the steam curling between you. when he reached for it, his calloused fingers brushed against yours. the contact was electric, a sudden grounding wire that made your breath hitch. neither of you moved to break the touch.

"you should have hated me for leaving," you whispered. the words felt small against the roar of the wind outside, but in the silence of the room, they sounded like a confession. your eyes searched his, tracing the familiar shape of his mustache and the way his hair fell across his forehead, a little longer than it used to be.

kayce took the mug, his grip firm, but he didn't step back. his voice was low and raspy, the sound of gravel and silk. "i tried. believe me, i tried to find a reason to hold it against you. but i knew why you went." he looked down at the coffee, then back at you, his gaze steady and heartbreakingly honest. "this place... it’s a lot of weight to carry if you aren't born wanting to hold it up."

the honesty in his voice hurt more than anger would have. you looked at the plaid flannel of his shirt, noticing the way his shoulders seemed to carry the entire ranch even when he was just standing in a kitchen.

"i never wanted to leave you," you confessed, the truth finally slipping out after all this time. "just the weight."

kayce set the mug down on the counter behind him without looking, his focus entirely on you. he stepped closer, invading your space until you could feel the heat radiating off his chest. he looked at you, really looked at you, with a yearning that felt like a physical pull.

"hard to have one without the other," he murmured, his hand hovering near your waist as if he were memorizing the space where you began and the world ended.