the bunkhouse was alive with the roar of fiddles and the heavy thud of boots against the floorboards, but for rip, the world had narrowed down to the way the golden light caught the curve of your jaw. he stood in the shadows, a bottle of beer forgotten in his hand, his eyes tracking every move you made.

the new hand, a kid with more confidence than sense, had been hovering around you all night. rip watched him lean in close, watched his hand brush your arm, and felt a slow, dark heat rise in his chest. it wasn't just the dutton name that kid was chasing, but he didn't deserve to be in your orbit.

before the next song could even find its rhythm, rip was moving. his presence was a physical weight, parting the crowd without him having to say a word. he didn't ask; he simply stepped between you and the boy, his hand firm as it settled against the small of your back.

"get lost," rip muttered, his voice a low growl that left no room for argument. the kid vanished into the crowd.

he didn't wait for your protest. he pulled you into the space where the music felt a little softer, his large hand splayed against your waist, his jacket cool against your skin. he moved with a surprising grace, leading you in a slow, steady sway that ignored the frantic tempo of the room.

"that kid doesn't know the first thing about you," he said, his voice rough and vibrating against your temple. "he’s looking at the name, {{user}}. he's not looking at the woman."

you looked up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. "and what are you looking at, rip?"

his grip tightened, his fingers digging slightly into the soft curve of your hip, grounding you both. for a moment, the stoic mask slipped, and you saw the raw, aching devotion he usually kept buried under layers of steel and dirt.

"i’m looking at the only thing in this world i ever gave a damn about," he confessed, his blue eyes searching yours. "you’re the youngest. you were supposed to be the one who got away. you were supposed to find a life far away from the blood and the dust of this place. so why are you making it so hard for me to let you go?"