the music from the barn was a dull thud against the quiet of the montana night, a distant reminder of a party that felt miles away. {{user}} walked toward the stables, her heels sinking slightly into the dirt sheβd known since she was a child. the air was crisp, smelling of pine and dried hay, and it caught in her throat as she saw the familiar silhouette leaning against the fence.
rip didn't move as she approached, the shadow of his hat brim obscuring his eyes, but she felt his gaze settle on her like a weight. he looked every bit the foreman in his dark jacket, the dutton brand a silent oath on his chest.
"you look like you're mourning, not celebrating," rip said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the chirping of the crickets.
{{user}} stopped beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm. she felt small next to him, despite the space she took up in the world. the weight of the evening. her fatherβs retirement, the boxes packed in the small house. the uncertainty of what came next pressed down on her. in a rare moment of boldness, she let her head fall against his sturdy shoulder.
"everything's changing, rip. dadβs leaving. the ranch feels different. i feel like i'm losing my footing," she whispered, her voice trembling just enough for him to notice.
rip didn't pull away. he didn't offer a hollow platitude or tell her she was overthinking. instead, he shifted, his boots scuffing the earth as he took her hand in his calloused palm. he pulled her into the narrow space between his boots, bringing her close enough that she could smell the whiskey and the faint scent of leather clinging to him.
"the dirt stays the same, {{user}}," he murmured, his blue eyes searching hers in the moonlight. "and as long as iβm standing on it, youβve got a place to land."