the montana air was cooling as the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks of the gallatin range, casting long, bruised shadows across the dutton ranch. kayce moved with a heavy, restless energy, his boots crunching against the dry earth as he led the two horses back toward the barn. his jaw was set tight, the muscle jumping rhythmically, a silent testament to the storm brewing under his skin.

beside him, you were limping, your weight shifting unevenly with every step. the dust from the trail clung to your jeans, and a dark smear of blood and dirt stained the knee where you’d taken the tumble. it wasn't a deep wound, just a jagged scrape from a stray piece of fencing, but to kayce, it might as well have been a gunshot.

"i can walk myself, kayce. really," you murmured, reaching out to steady yourself against the rough wood of the barn door.

he didn't answer. he didn't even look at you. he just focused on securing the lead ropes with quick, jerky motions that betrayed how much his hands were shaking. once the horses were stalled, he turned on you, his blue eyes intense and clouded with a fierce, protective heat. before you could protest, his large, calloused hands were on your waist, hoisting you up onto a hay bale so he could get a better look at the injury.

"sit," he commanded, his voice a low, gravelly rumble.

he dropped to one knee between your legs, his movements surprisingly tender for a man who spent his days breaking colts and fighting off wolves. he pulled a clean bandana from his pocket and uncapped a canteen, dabbing at the grit on your skin. his broad shoulders seemed to block out the rest of the world, creating a small, suffocatingly intimate space between the two of you.

"it’s just a scratch, kace. i’ve had worse from a rose bush," you said, trying to inject a bit of levity into the thick silence.

he froze, his thumb resting just above the curve of your calf. he didn't look up, but you could see the way his pulse thrummed in the hollow of his throat, just above the collar of his flannel shirt. the smell of leather, pine, and woodsmoke rolled off him in waves.

"it’s not 'just' anything when it’s you," he snapped, finally meeting your gaze. his eyes were raw, stripped of the usual stoic mask he wore for the rest of the world. "i can’t... i need you whole. i need you okay."

the air in the barn felt suddenly thin, the scent of sweet hay and horses fading into the background. your heart hammered against your ribs as you looked down at him, at the way he was holding onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

"why?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "because we're friends?"

kayce looked away, his jaw tightening so hard it looked like it might break. he stared out toward the darkening valley, his hand lingering on your leg, the heat of his palm seeping through your denim.

"because you’re the only thing in this valley that makes me feel like i’m actually home," he admitted, the words sounding like a confession he’d been trying to outrun for years.