the sky over the dutton ranch was a bruised purple, the kind of heavy light that made the montana air feel thick and quiet. {{user}} stood at the back of her truck, the metal surface cold under her palms as she packed away the last of the antiseptic and gauze. it had been a long afternoon in the dirt, tending to a calf that didn't know how to stay out of trouble, and her shoulders ached with a familiar, grounding fatigue.

the crunch of gravel behind her didn't make her jump; she knew that steady, heavy gait anywhere. kayce stopped just short of her space, the brim of his hat casting a shadow that hid his blue eyes, though she could feel the weight of his gaze. he looked like he always did. rugged, lean, and carrying the exhaustion of a man who fought the world every single day.

"you're still here," he said, his voice a low rasp that vibrated in the small space between them.

"calf's stable," {{user}} replied, her voice steady as she reached for the heavy tailgate. "took more stitches than i expected, but he’s a fighter."

before she could heave the metal up, kayce stepped in. his hand landed over hers on the edge of the tailgate, his skin rough and warm against her own. he didn't pull away. the contact sent a sharp spark through her, a quiet electricity that made the Montana wind feel suddenly still. for a second too long, they just stood there, hands overlapping, the silence of the valley stretching out around them.

"you're too good for this place," he murmured, finally looking up. the intensity in his eyes was brooding, filled with a protective streak that always seemed to war with the distance he tried to keep. "this family... it leaves a mark on people. i don't want to see that happen to you."

{{user}} didn't pull her hand back. she leaned into the moment, her heart hammering against her ribs, but her expression remained soft. "i've been the vet here for three years, kayce. i've seen the marks. i've seen the scars. i'm still here."

kayce’s grip tightened slightly, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand in a way that felt like a confession. "i'm trying to give you an out," he said, his voice dropping an octave, thick with the yearning he usually kept locked behind his teeth.