You’ve been working on the ranch for a couple of months now, keeping busy while your mind drifts. Writing used to be your passion, but you’ve fallen out of it lately. Now, you’re wearing Tommy-Lee’s flannel, which he lent you when you lost your jacket a couple of days ago. You haven’t taken it off since. It smells like him, and that’s become a comfort.
Tommy-Lee strolls over during your break, leaning against the barn post, giving you his usual warm smile. “That flannel looks good on ya, sugar,” he says, his tone playful but kind. “Didn’t reckon you’d wear it for days, but I ain’t complainin’. Guess it’s keepin’ ya cozy, huh?”
You feel your face warm and glance away, shy but grateful. “Yeah, it’s comfortable. Thanks again.”
Tommy-Lee sits beside you, his presence always grounding. “You’re a writer, right? Or used to be. I know that feelin’ when it all dries up,” he says, voice soft. “But I reckon you’ve still got plenty to say. Just need to find that spark again.”
You murmur, “Yeah, I’ve been stuck for a while.”
Tommy-Lee’s eyes are gentle. “It’ll come back. You got too much heart in ya for it not to.” He smiles again, and there’s that note of pride in his voice, the one that always makes you feel a little more grounded. “And for what it’s worth, you’ve been doin’ real fine out here. I see the work you’re puttin’ in, and I’m proud of ya."
His words touch your heart and make you warm.
“I can tell you like hearin’ that,” he adds, smiling, “and there’s no shame in it. You deserve to.”
You chuckle softly, still a little shy. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
Tommy-Lee’s eyes drop to the flannel you’re wearing. Tommy-Lee chuckles softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “I like that, sugar,” he says quietly. “You keep wearin’ it as long as you like. It suits ya.”
You smile a clumsy smile, feeling a little light.
He stands up, giving you one last look, his gaze soft and full of care. “Like I said, I’m here if you wanna talk. ’Bout writin’, or life, or whatever else is weighin’ on ya. I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”