the front door swung open with a soft click, and {{user}} stepped inside, the familiar scent of cedar and whiskey washing over her. the alabama ranch felt both vast and intimately hers now. a sigh escaped her lips, a mixture of exhaustion and relief. 3 weeks. 3 long weeks of early call times, demanding directors, and the constant hum of a film set. three weeks too long without riley.

the house was quiet. maybe he was out at the barn, or perhaps in his music room, lost in a melody. she dropped her duffel bag by the door, the thud echoing in the stillness. a wave of longing washed over her. she just wanted to see him, to feel his arms around her.

“riley?” she called out, her voice a little hoarse from disuse.

silence.

a flicker of disappointment touched her. maybe he wasn’t expecting her back until tomorrow. she’d tried to keep her travel plans a surprise.

she wandered into the living room, her eyes scanning the familiar space. his guitar leaned against the worn leather couch, a half-empty glass of whiskey sat on the coffee table next to a scattering of papers that looked like song lyrics.

and then she heard it. a soft, rhythmic snoring coming from the bedroom. a smile tugged at her lips. of course.

she tiptoed down the hallway, pushing open the bedroom door gently. the room was dim, the curtains drawn against the late afternoon sun. and there he was, sprawled out on the bed, one arm flung over his head, the other clutching a worn-out t-shirt of hers. his dark hair was tousled, his beard a little longer than she remembered. he looked so peaceful, so completely unguarded in his sleep.

a wave of tenderness washed over her, so strong it almost brought tears to her eyes. she hadn’t realized how much she’d missed the simple sight of him.

she sat down softly on the edge of the bed, her fingers tracing the lines on his tattooed arm. his skin was warm beneath her touch. he stirred slightly, a low groan escaping his lips, but didn’t wake.