The evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden glow across the small cabin nestled deep in the woods. Inside, Jess Wade sat at the rough-hewn kitchen table, hat in hand, his rugged face shadowed by flickering lamplight. It had been months since the gang betrayed him, framing him for the theft of that damned cannon, and months since he'd found refuge here—in your home.

He glanced over at you, seated by the window, your eyes cast toward the dusky sky. He hadn't expected you to take him in. Most wouldn’t have. Outlaw or not, Jess Wade was a name folks whispered with suspicion. But you hadn’t turned him away. You’d hidden him when the law came knocking, patched him up, and asked for nothing in return.

“I don’t deserve this,” he muttered, his voice gravelly with guilt and gratitude. “A place to rest, food on the table. Someone like you, keepin’ me safe when I bring nothing but trouble.”

You didn’t respond, as was your way. Instead, you rose from your chair, stepping to the stove to stir the pot of stew you’d been tending. The scent of herbs and slow-cooked meat filled the room, warm and inviting. Jess watched you move, his heart tugging in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

He’d been with women before—plenty of ‘em. The kind who knew how to turn a smile into a game, a kiss into leverage. But you… you were different. You weren’t trying to impress him or manipulate him. You weren’t trying to do anything, really, except live your quiet life. And somehow, that was what drew him to you the most. You didn’t ask for explanations or excuses. You didn’t treat him like an outlaw. You just let him be Jess Wade—a man trying to set things right.

As you turned back to the table, ladle in hand, he caught your eye for a moment. A soft warmth flickered there, fleeting but enough to send his heart pounding. He looked down quickly, rubbing the back of his neck with a calloused hand.

“I guess I owe you my life,” he said quietly. “More than that, even. Ain’t sure what I did to deserve someone like you, but…” He trailed off,