the montana air was cold enough to turn breath into ghosts, but the porch of the community hall felt like a furnace. inside, the fundraiser hummed with the sound of fiddles and heavy boots on hardwood, but out here, there was only the wind and the steady rhythm of kayce’s breathing. he leaned against the railing, his stetson pulled low, the rugged lines of his face caught in the amber glow of the porch light.

{{user}} stood a few feet away, her coat pulled tight over her curves, her eyes fixed on the dark outline of the mountains she had once tried to forget.

the silence between them wasn't empty; it was heavy, filled with the years they’d spent apart and the tension that had been simmering since she’d walked through the doors an hour ago. he looked at her then, his blue eyes intense and clouded with a yearning he couldn't quite hide behind his brooding exterior.

"you look good," he said, his voice a low rasp that made her heart stutter.

emily let out a shaky breath, finally turning to face him. "you haven't changed much, kayce. still carrying the weight of that ranch on your shoulders."

"it’s a heavy ranch," he muttered, shifting his weight. his hand grazed the holster at his hip out of habit, a gesture of a man always on guard.

she stepped closer, the heat of the room still clinging to her skin, her voice dropping to a whisper that barely carried over the wind. "why didn't you ask me to stay? back then. if you'd said one word, i wouldn't have gone."

kayce straightened, the athlete’s grace in his movements stifled by the sudden sharp pain in his expression. he reached out, his rough, calloused thumb catching a stray lock of her hair, lingering there just a second too long.

"because i loved you enough to let you go find a life that didn't involve a dutton war," he said, his voice cracking with a rare flash of emotion. "look at me, {{user}}. i'm covered in it. the blood, the dirt, the choices my father makes. you're clean. i wanted to keep you that way."