the clinic was quiet, the only sound the low hum of the refrigerator holding the ranch’s more sensitive supplies, until the heavy thud hit the door frame. {{user}} didn't need to check the clock to know it was well past midnight. she adjusted her glasses and stood, her frame casting a soft shadow against the sterile white walls as she moved toward the entrance.

when she swung the door open, the scent of horse sweat, copper, and mountain air flooded the small space. rip stood there, filling the doorway, his silhouette a mountain of denim and dark canvas. the black jacket with the yellowstone y was torn at the shoulder, dark blood blooming through the fabric and staining his hand. he looked like a ghost of the plains, his piercing blue eyes clouded with a pain he’d never admit to.

"you know, most people use the doorbell, rip," {{user}} murmured, her voice steady despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs at the sight of him. "they don't just bleed on my porch until i sense the gloom."

rip let out a sharp, ragged breath, gritting his teeth as he stepped into the light. he didn't look at her, instead focusing on a spot on the wall as he kicked the door shut behind him. "didn't want to wake the house," he growled, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small room. "figured you were up anyway. you never sleep."

"hard to sleep when the ranch foreman treats the emergency clinic like a 24-hour confession booth," she countered softly. she gestured toward the exam table. "sit. let me see how bad you messed yourself up this time."