the air in the supply store tasted like dust and motor oil, a sharp contrast to the sterile city air {{user}} had been breathing for a decade. she gripped the handle of a heavy bag of feed, her knuckles white, as she turned the corner of the aisle.

standing by the counter was a ghost.

kayce looked like a vision pulled straight from her memory, yet harder, edged with a weariness that hadn't been there when they were eighteen. his dirty blonde hair was tucked under a worn cowboy hat, and the blue of his eyes seemed more piercing against the tan of his face. the silence between them stretched, thick and heavy, vibrating with the weight of ten years and a thousand things left unsaid.

"you're still here," {{user}} said, her voice barely a whisper, breaking the quiet that felt like it might swallow them both.

kayce tipped his hat, his hooded gaze sweeping over her, lingering on the soft curve of her face and the way she stood her ground. he stepped toward her, the wood floor creaking under his boots. he leaned back against a stack of crates, the montana sun streaming through the storefront window and catching the grit on his jaw.

"never found a reason good enough to leave," he replied, his voice a low rumble that made her chest ache. "what about you? you find what you were looking for out there?"

{{user}} looked past him toward the horizon visible through the open door, the mountains jagged and purple against the sky. she felt the familiar pull of the land, a sharp tug at a heart she thought she’d hardened.

"i think i just found out how much i hate the city," she admitted.

kayce took a slow, deliberate breath. his eyes stayed on her a second too long, the yearning he usually kept buried behind a brooding mask flickering to the surface. it was the look of a man who had memorized every detail of her departure and had been waiting for the return.

"funny," he said, shifting his weight, the gun strapped to his hip glinting in the light. "i could’ve told you that ten years ago."

she stepped closer, the tension between them snapping like a live wire. "a lot has changed, kayce."

"some things don't," he muttered, his gaze dropping to her lips before snapping back to her eyes. "the dirt's the same. the mountains are the same. and i'm still right here."