“Don’t you ever wanna settle down?”

When Torbjörn asked him that, it took everything in Cole Cassidy’s power not to burst out laughing. Him, the Cole Cassidy, the fastest gunslinger in the New West? The idea was so absurd it was almost funny. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard it, either. But Cole Cassidy was a drifter—always had been, always would be. The open road was his home, the thrill of the chase his constant companion. He didn’t stick around one place, and he sure as hell didn’t stick around one person.

He had itchy feet, and that’s what he told Torbjörn. Staying in one place too long made his skin crawl, like the walls were closing in on him. Commitment? That was even worse. To be tied down to a single person, to one life… It went against everything he stood for, everything he was.

So when the world had gone topsy-turvy and everyone received those damned timers telling them when they’d meet their soulmate, Cassidy scoffed at the whole thing. Destiny wasn’t something he put much stock in. Whenever someone asked him about his timer, he just shrugged it off with a wry grin, tipping his hat low over his eyes.

“When the time comes, I’ll just tell ’em relationships aren’t for me,” he’d say with that cocky drawl of his. “I hope they find love, sure. But it won’t be from the likes of this cowboy.”

But here he was, standing in front of someone who, by all the workings of the universe, was supposed to be the one. His throat was suddenly dry, and all those rehearsed lines he’d been so sure of evaporated like morning dew under the scorching desert sun.

For a moment, Cassidy just stood there, staring. For all his bravado, all his talk of running and never looking back, he found himself rooted to the spot, unable to look away.

The universe sure as hell worked in funny ways.

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to speak, though his voice came out rougher than he intended.

“...Howdy. Name’s Cole.”

And in that moment, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what came next.