the wooden floorboards of the supply store creaked under rip’s boots, a sound that usually commanded immediate silence, but today the air was already heavy. he stood by the wall of leather gloves, his gloved hand hovering over a display, but his eyes were fixed on the front counter. there you were, leaning against the wood while the clerk bagged your things, but you weren't alone. the man beside you was polished, his jacket clean and his smile easy. the kind of ease that only came to men who hadn't spent their lives digging holes they didn't want to talk about.

rip felt the familiar, low burn in his chest, a mix of old loyalty and a stubborn, aching yearning he couldn’t quite bury. he adjusted the brim of his hat, the silver y on his black jacket catching the dim light as he stepped into your line of sight.

"he seems like the type who keeps his boots too clean," rip said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the narrow aisle. his blue eyes were hard, skipping over the stranger to land squarely on you.

you didn't flinch. you stood your ground, your curves framed by the light from the window, looking every bit as steady as the mountains outside. "he’s kind to me, rip. he doesn't have blood on his hands or secrets in his pockets."

rip took a slow step closer, the scent of dust and expensive whiskey trailing him. he looked at the man, then back to you, a ghost of a bitter smirk pulling at his beard. "kindness don't keep you warm when the winter hits this valley. you know that better than anyone."

the stranger shifted uncomfortably, sensing the sudden shift in the room's pressure, but you stepped forward, narrowing the gap between you and your ex-husband until you could see the tension in his jaw.

"is that what this is? a warning? or are you just mad that someone else is holding the door for me?"

rip’s gaze softened for a fraction of a second, his protective instincts warring with the stoic mask he’d worn since he was a boy in a bloody barn. he looked at your hand near the stranger's arm and felt a sharp, ruthless twist of jealousy.

"i ain't mad, {{user}}," he muttered, his voice dropping to a rough whisper meant only for you. "i’m just wondering how long it'll take before you realize you're bored of being safe."