the morning air in montana was crisp enough to bite, the kind of cold that settled into your bones and stayed there. you stood by the tailgate of your truck, the bed packed with everything you owned in the world, which didn't feel like much now that it was all cinched down under a heavy tarp. the dutton ranch stretched out behind you, golden and vast and dangerous, and for the first time in years, you weren't part of its rhythm.

the gravel crunched under heavy boots, a sound you’d know anywhere. kayce approached with that slow, deliberate gait of his, his hat tipped low against the rising sun. he looked every bit the soldier turned rancher, the plaid of his flannel stretched tight across his shoulders, the familiar weight of the holstered gun against his thigh. he stopped a few feet away, hooking his thumbs into his belt loops, his blue eyes tracing the outline of your loaded vehicle with a shadow of something heavy and dark.

"i checked the oil in your truck. tires too," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the quiet space between you. "you've got a long haul to the state line."

you stopped messing with a loose bungee cord and looked at him. you’d spent enough time working these pens and treating these horses to know when kayce was hiding behind labor. his hands were stained with grease and dirt, the same hands that had helped you birth calves and mend fences until the moon came up.

"thanks, kayce. you didn't have to do that," you murmured, wiped your palms on your jeans.

"i wanted to make sure you get where you're going," he countered, stepping closer until you could smell the faint mix of woodsmoke, horses, and the whiskey he’d probably had the night before to dull the edges of the dutton name. "even if i hate where you're going."

the air felt thin, charged with the years of unspoken understanding and the slow burn of a connection that neither of you had been brave enough to name while the world was burning down around the ranch. you felt the ache of leaving him behind, leaving the only man who looked at you like you were the center of the world.

"and where is that?" you asked softly, your voice barely a breath.

kayce looked away toward the horizon, his jaw tight. "anywhere that isn't here."