the air in the foaling stall was thick with the scent of damp hay and the sharp, metallic tang of the cold. outside, the montana wind howled against the timber walls of the dutton ranch, but inside, the world had narrowed down to the steady, rhythmic breathing of a tired mare and the soft rustle of straw. {{user}} sat back on her heels, her knees sinking into the golden stalks as she watched the newborn foal struggle to find its footing. her fingers were numb, the chill of the midnight air seeping through her coat, but she didn't move.

kayce was sitting just inches away from her, his tall frame hunched over as he watched her instead of the horses. the dim light of the lantern cast long shadows across his face, catching the rugged line of his jaw and the quiet intensity in his blue eyes. he looked exhausted, the kind of bone-deep tired that came from a life of hard labor and harder choices, yet he hadn't left her side once.

"you should go inside, kayce," {{user}} murmured, her voice soft so as not to startle the animals. "you’ve been up since five. the foal is stable now."

kayce didn't blink, his gaze remaining fixed on the way her hair had fallen loose from her ponytail. "i’m where i want to be," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate in the small space. "besides, you're still here."

{{user}} offered a small, weary smile, shifting her weight. "it’s my job. i’m used to the cold."

she felt the heat of him before she felt the touch. kayce reached out, his calloused fingers grazing her temple as he brushed a stray piece of straw from her hair. his hand didn't pull away immediately; instead, it lingered, his thumb tracing the line of her cheekbone for a heartbeat longer than necessary. the silence between them stretched, heavy with everything they hadn't said over the months of shared glances and quiet mornings on the ranch.

"doesn't mean you have to be in it alone," he whispered.