the screen door creaks behind you, a sharp contrast to the low hum of the montana crickets. you step out onto the porch, the night air nipping at your skin, and find rip exactly where you knew he’d be. he’s a dark silhouette against the vast, ink-colored sky, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric of his black ranch jacket. the yellowstone brand on his chest seems to catch the faint, flickering glow of the porch light, a constant reminder of the life he chose.

you sit down beside him, your hip brushing against the wood of the steps. the heat coming off him is a physical weight, familiar and grounding. for a long time, neither of you speaks. the silence is thick, layered with ten years of distance and a thousand miles of unspoken history.

rip doesn’t turn his head, but you see his jaw tighten. he takes a slow, methodical pull from the beer bottle in his hand, his piercing blue eyes fixed on the treeline where the mountains bleed into the darkness. he looks older, harder, but when he finally sighs, it’s the same sound that used to lull you to sleep a decade ago.

"why didn't you come looking for me?" you ask, your voice barely a whisper, eyes fixed on the horizon.

the glass bottle clinks against the silver of his ring as he sets it down on the step between his boots. he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his massive frame hunched as if trying to carry the weight of the whole ranch on his back.

"because i knew where you were," he says, his voice gravelly and low. "you were somewhere safe, {{user}}. somewhere clean. somewhere the dirt don't get under your fingernails and stay there for good."

he finally turns his head, his gaze heavy and searing as it sweeps over you. there’s a raw, aching yearning in his eyes that he can’t quite mask with his usual stoicism.

"looking for you would've meant bringing you back to the mud," he continues, his voice softening just enough to break your heart. "and i loved you too much to let you drown in it twice."