the kitchen light was a low, honeyed hum against the darkness of the montana night, casting long shadows across the linoleum. you were slumped at the small wooden table, your head resting in your hands as the silence of the house finally settled. the fever had broken an hour ago, leaving your child tangled in sleep and you completely hollowed out. when the floorboards groaned near the door, you didn't jump. you knew the heavy, rhythmic step of cowboy boots too well by now.

kayce moved into the room with a quiet grace that belied his size. he looked rugged, his flannel sleeves rolled up to reveal forearms dusted with dirt and sweat from the ranch, but his blue eyes were soft as they landed on you. he set a brown paper bag of supplies on the counter. medicine, milk, and a loaf of bread that still smelled like the oven.

"beth said you were running low," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that seemed to vibrate in the small space. he didn't move to leave. instead, he leaned against the counter, his thumb hooked in the belt loop near the gun strapped to his hip.

you looked up, your eyes stinging with a sudden, sharp exhaustion. "i don't know how to repay you for all this, kayce. i feel like i'm drowning half the time."

the air in the kitchen shifted, turning thick and still. kayce stepped closer, the scent of cedar and cold mountain air clinging to his clothes. he reached out, his hand hovering just inches from your shoulder, a hesitant gesture from a man who usually moved with such violent certainty. he stopped just short of touching you, but you could feel the heat radiating from him.

"you’re doing it on your own," he murmured, his gaze intense and unwavering. "there’s no shame in needing a hand to hold onto."

the honesty in his tone cracked something open in your chest. the slow burn that had been simmering between you for months, hidden behind chores and neighborly nods, suddenly felt like a physical weight. you looked at his hand, then back up at him, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"and if i don't want to let go?" you whispered.

kayce’s eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he finally closed the gap, his fingers grazing the fabric of your shirt. his voice dropped an octave, private and heavy with a yearning he couldn't hide anymore.

"then don't."