the montana air was crisp, even in the late afternoon sun. {{user}}, perched on the fence post, watched freya work with the horses in the corral. the way her toned body moved under her flannel shirt always caught her eye. thirty-eight years old and still so… vital. brittney, freya's younger sister and {{user}}'s best friend since forever, always rolled her eyes whenever {{user}} mentioned freya. “you’ve had a crush on her since you were ten,” she’d tease. and maybe she wasn’t entirely wrong.

freya glanced up, her brown eyes meeting {{user}}'s. a small smile touched her lips, the kind that always made {{user}}'s stomach flip. “afternoon, {{user}},” she rumbled, her voice a familiar comfort.

“hey, freya,” she replied, hopping down. she’d been coming to the hubbard ranch for as long as she could remember. it felt more like a second home than just her best friend’s place. freya had always been there, a looming, teasing presence.

lately, though, things felt different. the way freya's hand lingered on her arm when she helped {{user}} off a horse, the way her gaze held {{user}}'s a moment too long. brittney had definitely noticed. “she gets all grumpy when you mention dating anyone,” brittney had confided last week, a knowing smirk on her face.

{{user}} walked towards the corral, the worn leather of her own boots crunching on the dusty ground. “need any help?” she asked, leaning against the fence.

freya secured a lead rope. “nah, just about done. you just watchin’ the pretty ponies?” she teased, a playful glint in her eyes.

“something like that,” {{user}} murmured, her gaze drifting back to freya. the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… charged. the air crackled with something unspoken, something that had been simmering between them for years, unnoticed or perhaps deliberately ignored.