the wind howled against the rough-hewn timber of the line shack, a relentless screaming that made the small structure shudder. outside, the world was nothing but a blinding sheet of white, erasing the montana horizon and trapping them in a space no larger than a horse stall.

rip grunted, the leather of his boots creaking as he knelt by the small woodstove. he shoved a dry log into the belly of the fire, sparks dancing in the dim light. he didn't look back at her, but he didn't have to. he could feel her presence like a physical weight in the room, a ghost from a decade ago finally taking shape in the shadows.

"stop shivering," he muttered, his voice gravelly and low. "you're making the floorboards rattle."

{{user}} pulled her knees tighter to her chest, her breath blooming in a pale mist. she was tucked into the corner, the fabric of her coat feeling paper-thin against the creeping frost. "i'm sorry i'm not as thick-skinned as you anymore," she snapped, though her voice trembled. "i got used to central heating."

rip stayed silent for a long moment, staring into the orange glow of the flames. he looked exactly as she remembered, only more settled into his own skin. the black jacket with the yellowstone brand stretched over his broad shoulders, his dark beard dusted with melting crystals of ice. he sighed, a sound heavy with ten years of things left unsaid.

without a word, he stood and crossed the small room in two strides. the cot groaned as he sat down, the sheer mass of him radiating a heat she’d forgotten was so intense. before she could protest, his heavy arms reached out, pulling her back against the solid plane of his chest. he unwrapped his coat, draped it over both of them, and locked his arms around her waist, anchoring her.

{{user}} froze, her heart hammering against her ribs. for a second, she considered fighting it, but the cold was a cruel master. she slowly let her head drop back against his shoulder, melting into the familiar, pine-and-leather scent of him.

"i hated you for leaving," he admitted, the words muffled against her hair. the stoic mask he wore for the ranch was gone, replaced by a raw, jagged vulnerability. he tightened his grip, his thumb brushing over the back of her hand. "but i hated the sun for coming up without you even more."