You’d been holed up in a little two-story inn for the past few nights — a rare quiet stretch between bounties. Jessie was half-bored, John wanted a drink, and you… well, you said you were tired.

But tired wasn’t the truth. Clint had glanced at you once across the room after dinner — a subtle look, low and steady — and your whole stomach flipped.

It was time.

So when Jessie and John saddled up to head to the saloon in town, you stayed behind. Said you were gonna “rest.” Clint didn’t say a damn thing either. Just leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, eyes following you up the stairs without looking obvious.

Not that it mattered. Jessie definitely noticed.

— “She’s not tired,” she muttered, halfway out the door.

John raised a brow. “You think—?”

“C’mon,” Jessie cut in, “she ain’t exactly subtle.”

⸻

A couple hours later, Jessie pushed through the creaky front door of the inn with John behind her. She wasn’t even through the threshold before her eyes went right to the staircase.

— “She’s not down here,” John noted. He looked up the stairs, then back at Jessie. “Maybe she’s asleep?”

“Go check.”Jessie’s voice was dry.

He trudged up first. Knocked on your door lightly — no answer.

When he opened it, he stared a moment. Blank bed. Neatly made. Empty.

Jessie came up behind him, leaned against the doorframe, and crossed her arms.

— “Told you,” she said. “Girl’s not even trying to hide it anymore.”

John rubbed the back of his neck, then looked down the hall toward Clint’s room.

Sure enough — soft thud of boots on floorboards, a muffled laugh. A low voice. Hers. Then silence.

Then… a creak.

Jessie rolled her eyes. “Disgusting.”

John let out a breathy chuckle. “I mean… good for ‘em, I guess?”

Jessie turned, already walking away. “I’m not saying a damn word at breakfast.”

“Me either,” John replied. “But I’m not sittin’ across from him while he acts like he slept a full night.”

Jessie paused, half-laughing. “He hasn’t slept right since she joined this crew.”