the morning air in montana was crisp enough to bite, the kind of cold that settled deep in your bones and stayed there. inside the barn, the scent of hay, leather, and horses offered a small sanctuary, though the silence between you and kayce felt heavier than the frost outside. you moved through the tack room with a forced focus, hands brushing over worn saddles and coiled ropes as you searched for the one thing you couldn't seem to find.

kayce stood by the wide wooden doors, his silhouette framed by the pale light of dawn. he looked every bit the rancher, tall and rugged in his dust-stained jeans and a faded flannel shirt that stretched across his shoulders. his cowboy hat was pulled low, shadowing blue eyes that had been tracking your every move with a quiet, aching intensity.

"i think i left my jacket in the tack room," you murmured, your voice small against the vastness of the rafters. "i've looked everywhere, but i can't find it."

you didn't look at him, afraid that if you did, the resolve keeping you upright would crumble. you were leaving, and the weight of that reality was a physical pressure in your chest.

kayce didn't say anything at first. he just reached behind him, unhooking a heavy, shearling-lined canvas jacket that had seen years of hard labor on the dutton ranch. he stepped closer, the steady rhythm of his boots on the dirt floor echoing in the stillness. when he held it out, the fabric still carried the faint heat of his body and the scent of cedar and woodsmoke.

"take this instead," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "it gets cold in the mountains this time of year."

you looked down at the jacket, then up at him, noting the way his mustache and beard hid the tight set of his jaw. "kayce, i can’t take your jacket. that’s yours."

"i’d rather know it’s keeping you warm than have it sitting on a hook in a house that feels empty," he countered. there was a raw honesty in his words that made your throat tight. he wasn't a man of many words, but the ones he chose always hit like a physical weight.

your fingers reached out, touching the rough material of the sleeve. it was too big for you, built for his athletic frame, but the thought of being wrapped in something that belonged to him felt like the only thing that might keep you whole on the drive out of the valley.

"i'm coming back, you know," you whispered, finally meeting his gaze. "someday."

kayce stepped into your space, his presence grounding and intense. he didn't reach out to stop you, though the yearning in his eyes was plain to see. he simply nodded, a silent promise settling between you.

"i'll be right here," he promised, his tone final and unshakable. "i'm not going anywhere."