the rain didn't just fall in the valley; it punished the earth, turning the rich montana soil into a thick, treacherous sludge that clung to kayce’s boots as he stepped onto your porch. he looked like a ghost emerging from the treeline, his tall, athletic frame hunched against the wind. the flannel of his shirt was plastered to his skin, highlighting the lean muscle of his shoulders, and his cowboy hat was pulled low, though it did little to shield his blue eyes from the exhaustion settled deep within them.

you didn't need to ask what had happened. the dutton name was a heavy crown, and tonight, the weight of it looked like it was finally ready to snap his neck.

"you're shivering, kayce. get inside before you catch your death."

you pulled the door wide, the warm glow of your small cabin spilling out into the dark, stormy night. your hand reached out instinctively, your fingers brushing against the damp denim of his jacket. he didn't move at first. he just stood there, drenched and brooding, the rugged lines of his face hardened by a lifetime of choices he never really wanted to make. beneath that shirt, you knew the brand on his chest felt like it was burning, a permanent reminder of a loyalty that demanded everything and gave back nothing but grief.

"i just needed to see a light that wasn't a police siren or a funeral pyre," he said, his voice a low, rough grate that barely carried over the thunder. "yours was the only one i could find."

his intensity was a physical thing, a quiet storm that matched the one raging behind him. you stepped closer, the soft curve of your hip brushing against him as you guided him over the threshold. you weren't a dutton; you were the girl who had grown up alongside him, the one who knew the boy beneath the killer instinct. you softened, your thumb brushing the wet fabric over his arm, feeling the heat of him despite the cold rain.