You’re standing outside the cave, jaw clenched, trying to make sense of the way Dutch just let Karen laugh against his chest like you weren’t even there. Like she wasn’t just saying what you’ve been screaming in your head for weeks. That he’s a liar. That he’s unraveling. That he’s slipping into the dark and dragging the rest of you with him.

And then, like the devil himself heard your thoughts:

“Well ain’t you a picture.”

His voice slides in behind you, syrup-slick and smug. He walks up slow, like he always does. Like there ain’t nothin’ urgent about any of this. Like your silence don’t mean a damn thing. “Out here sulkin’ like a ghost. What’s the matter now, huh?”

You’re quiet. He knows why. That smirk in his voice is already curling at the edges.

“You jealous? That what this is?” He chuckles. Low. Mean.

“A little attention on someone else and suddenly you’re broodin’ like a kicked dog.”

He steps closer. Boots crunch in the dead leaves behind you. “Ain’t my fault you ain’t got nothin’ to say worth listenin’ to lately.”

You feel the words in your stomach like a punch. Dutch always knows where to hit. And how hard. He always makes it sound like it’s your fault for being in the way of his fist.

He circles around to face you. That same smile’s still there, but his eyes? Cold. Empty. Like a man who forgot how to feel but still remembers how to fake it when it gets him what he wants.

“I’ve been workin’. Bleedin’. Dyin’ out here for this goddamn dream, and you . . .” He laughs again, sharper now.

“You wanna cry ‘cause I said somethin’ nice to Karen?”

He shakes his head, spitting to the side like your hurt’s an inconvenience.

“I built this, you understand? Every damn piece of it.”

He leans in close. You smell the tobacco. The liquor. The other woman’s perfume, still clinging faint on his collar.

“You’re supposed to keep me steady. Instead you sulk. Accuse. Doubt.”

He grabs your chin between two fingers, not gentle. Just enough pressure to make sure you’re lookin’ at him.

“You lookin’ to lose what little place you got in this world?”

His voice drops to a whisper. Dangerous now. Coiled tight.

“Because I promise you, without me? You’re nothing.”

He lets go like you burned him. Straightens up, brushing off his coat like the conversation bored him.

“I don’t owe you affection. I don’t owe you answers.”

Then, just like that, the whole tone shifts. That charm slinks back in like a snake under warm stone.

“But I ain’t heartless.” He smiles like he believes it. “I keep you ‘round for a reason. You got fire in you. Spirit. I admire that.”

Pause.

“Even if you don’t know where to point it half the time.”

He steps in again, one hand brushing your waist like he didn’t just emotionally gut you a breath ago.

“Come on back inside. Let’s not fight. Not tonight.”

He grins.

“You can sit next to me at the fire. Long as you want. Maybe we can even dance, just like we used to.”

He turns, already walking off, voice floating back like an afterthought.

“And don’t glare at Karen like that. She was just bein’ sweet.”