the gravel crunched under kayce’s boots as he hopped out of his truck, the montana sun dipping low enough to turn the sky the color of a bruised peach. he’d seen the hazards flashing from a mile away, a familiar silhouette slumped against the fender of a stalled suv on the shoulder of the backroad leading toward the ranch.

he didn't need to see the license plate to know it was you.

"you’re a long way from the paved roads, {{user}}," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the quiet evening air. he tipped the brim of his hat, his blue eyes tracking the way you looked against the rusted metal. tired, windblown, and beautiful in a way that made his chest ache.

you let out a huff of a laugh, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "the shortcut wasn't much of a shortcut. car just gave up on me."

kayce didn't say much at first. he never did. he just rolled up the sleeves of his plaid flannel, exposing the lean muscle of his forearms, and popped the hood. your son was right there, peering curiously into the tangle of wires and belts. kayce didn't shoo him away. instead, he handed the boy a rag.

"hold this," kayce murmured, his tone softening. "and watch close. you see that dipstick? that’s how you know if the engine’s got what it needs to keep running."

for the next hour, the world narrowed down to the sound of metal clicking and the low, steady patient hum of kayce’s instructions. he moved with a rugged, athletic grace, his mustache twitching with a ghost of a smile every time your son asked a question. every few minutes, kayce’s gaze would drift toward you, lingering on the curve of your hip or the soft line of your jaw before he quickly looked back at the engine.

eventually, he wiped a smear of grease off his thumb and nodded toward your boy. "he’s a natural. got a steady hand. you’re doing a good job with him."

you leaned back against the fender, the weight of the day pressing on your shoulders. "some days it feels like i’m just keeping his head above water. montana isn't easy on a single mom."

kayce stepped out from behind the hood, closing the distance between you until you could smell the faint scent of cedar, tobacco, and the outdoors on him. the gun strapped to his hip glinted in the fading light, but his expression was nothing but tender.

"you aren't doing it alone," he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper that felt like a physical touch. "not if you don't want to. i'm always on this road."