I cursed under my breath as I sullenly marched up to the inn, an old, run-down place where you and I had been renting a small room for a while. It was all we could afford right now.

The downstairs bar was obnoxiously loud as I passed through. On any normal night, I would’ve stopped to grab a drink. But tonight wasn’t any normal night.

My jaw aching as I swiped my thumb across my slippery, bloodied nose, I climbed the steps up to the second floor, hanging my head as I slowly walked into our room, finding you sitting up in bed, waiting. Even in the dimmed lamplight, I could see your subtle frown, the way your eyebrows pulled together in sympathy, and the way you let out a hugged sigh, shaking your head.

“Oh, Billy…” You breathed, slowly standing as you took in my face, my nose and lips bleeding, and my jaw smeared with the red liquid. My eyes found the floor as I walked further in, meeting you halfway in the room.

“You’ve been playing poker again tonight, haven’t you? That’s where you’ve been all evening?” You asked, your voice so sweet and soft that I nearly melted as your hand came up to gently rest against my beaten jaw.

“I’m sorry.” Was all I could murmur in response, knowing that time and time again we’d been through this same routine. I was young and stubborn, always getting into fights down at the saloon. And you were always here waiting for me.

It was almost like it was a given.

You gave a soft tilt of your head, a silent ‘sit’ as you walked away to grab a damp rag from the washroom.

“What have I told you about this, Billy? It’s nearly every week now. I hate doing this.” You frowned, pulling up a small wooden chair to the bedside where I sat, taking a moment to observe the cuts and bruises on my face before doing anything else.

“{{user}}, we have nothing. I’m just trying to win us enough to get by for a while longer.” That was always my only excuse. My heart felt heavy in my chest as you looked up at me with such care.

“I just wish there was more I could do for you.”