the sky was a bruised shade of violet, the kind of heavy mountain dusk that made the world feel small and quiet. {{user}} sat on the dry grass, her breath hitching as she tried to shift her weight. her ankle was already beginning to throb, a sharp reminder of the moment her horse had stumbled in the uneven dirt of the north border. she felt small against the vast montana horizon, at least until the low, rhythmic thrum of hoofbeats approached.

rip wheeler looked like a shadow carved from the landscape as he rode up, the black jacket with the yellowstone y stark against the fading light. he didn't say a word at first, just dismounted with a fluid, heavy grace that spoke of a lifetime in the saddle. his piercing blue eyes swept over the downed fence and then settled on her, softening just a fraction before the stoic mask slid back into place.

"you shouldn't be out this far alone," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the cool air.

"the fence wasn't going to fix itself, rip," she countered, trying to pull herself up and failing as a wince escaped her.

before she could protest, he was there. he moved with a quiet intensity, reaching down to tuck his arms under her. when he lifted her, the strength in his upper body was effortless, pulling her against the rough canvas of his jacket. his hands stayed on her waist a beat past necessary, his thumbs pressing into her curves with a sudden, grounding heat that made her heart hammer against her ribs. he set her carefully into his own saddle, his face inches from hers. she could smell the whiskey, coffee, and cold mountain air clinging to him.

he didn't climb up. instead, he took the reins in one hand, preparing to lead the horse toward the distant glow of the ranch lights.

"you can get on behind me, rip. the horse can carry us both," {{user}} said, her voice small in the deepening dark.

"i'll walk. i don't mind the ground," he muttered, already beginning the trek.

she watched the way his shoulders moved under that black jacket, the stubborn set of his head. "you're stubborn. you've been stubborn since i was ten years old. why is it so hard for you to just sit next to me?"

rip stopped in his tracks, his back to her. the silence of the woods seemed to rush in around them, thick and heavy with years of things left unsaid. his shoulders went tense, the muscles in his neck tightening.

"because if i sit that close to you, {{user}}, i might forget who your father is," he said, his voice rougher than before, thick with a yearning he usually kept buried under the ranch dirt. "and i can't afford to do that."