the bell above the door chimed, a thin, tinny sound that felt too small for the heavy silence of the montana afternoon. rip didn't look up from the counter. he was focused on the list of fencing supplies in his hand, his jaw set in that familiar, rigid line. the air in the general store smelled of old wood, floor wax, and the impending rain rolling off the mountains.

then he heard it. a voice like a ghost, soft and grounding all at once, cutting through the quiet.

"i didn't think you’d still be wearing that same scowl, rip wheeler."

rip stalled. the breath hitched in his lungs, a rare moment of vulnerability he quickly buried under years of steel. he didn't turn immediately. his gloved fingers twitched against the wooden counter, and he tightened his grip on the paper. he knew that voice. he’d spent a decade trying to forget the way it curved around his name.

{{user}} leaned against the wooden post near the entrance, her presence filling the space in a way that made the small store feel even smaller. she looked different, grown into the kind of woman who moved with a quiet confidence, her curves soft against the rugged backdrop of the valley. she was older now, but to rip, she was still the only thing that had ever made him want to stay soft.

"and i didn't think you’d ever find your way back to a place this small," rip said, his voice a low rumble. he finally turned, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. he kept his hat low, the brim casting a shadow over his face, but he couldn't hide the way his gaze swept over her, taking her in with a hunger he’d never quite managed to kill.