You barely made it to the bottom of the staircase before your legs betrayed you completely. You stumbled forward, arms flailing for balance, and Jack caught you just before you fell flat on the wooden floor.

— “Easy, easy,” he said, steadying you against his chest. His voice was low, tired but patient. “Looks like I’m carrying you now.”

Your breath came out in shaky, uneven gasps as you blinked up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes glazed. You tried to say something, but it came out as a slurred mumble. Your arms wrapped weakly around his neck, and your head lolled against his shoulder.

Jack shifted his grip, sliding one arm under your knees and the other behind your back to support you properly. The weight was more than you felt, but he held you steady, careful not to jostle you too much.

The staircase seemed endless. Every creak of the old wood echoed loudly in the silence, but Jack’s steps were sure and steady. He took each one deliberately, unwilling to risk dropping you.

You muttered nonsense under your breath — bits of rodeo talk, laughter, and the occasional hiccup — and Jack couldn’t help but smile softly despite the fatigue dragging at his limbs.

— “Almost there,” he whispered, voice gentle and reassuring.

At last, he reached the door to Millie’s room. With a soft push, it swung open and he carried you inside, careful not to bump you against the frame.

He lowered you onto the bed like you weighed nothing, pulling the warm blankets over your trembling shoulders.

Jack sank into the chair nearby, rubbing his face as a sigh escaped him. His muscles ached, and his mind was ready to shut down — but seeing you finally at rest made it all worth it.

— “I’m beat,” he muttered, eyes half-closed.