The sky was a soft shade of gray, clouds stretched like pulled cotton across the horizon. The storm from last night had finally passed, leaving puddles across the pasture and the scent of damp earth heavy in the air. The ranch was quiet—too quiet, for once. Even the horses seemed slower to stir.

You stood at the porch railing, cradling a mug of coffee in both hands, your fingers still warming from the cold inside the house that hadn’t quite burned off yet. The wind tousled your hair gently as you looked out toward the fields—your fields now. A life you’d married into, sure, but one you’d carved your place into with your own grit and heart.

The old screen door creaked behind you, and you didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

Kayce Dutton. Barefoot, hair still damp from the shower, wearing that familiar worn flannel and a quiet expression that always gave him away before his words did. He slipped an arm around your waist, pulling you back gently into him, his chin resting on your shoulder like he’d done a thousand times before and still never seemed to get tired of.

“You didn’t sleep much last night,” he said low against your ear, voice still rough with sleep. “Wanna talk about it?”

He always knew. Even when you tried to play strong. Maybe it was the silence, or maybe just the way he’d learned every line of your face like it was part of the land he loved.

This was the life you chose together—love wrapped in dirt, duty, danger, and devotion. Some days it felt like the world pressed in too heavy. Other days—like this one—it felt like peace.

But something in his voice told you today might not stay peaceful for long.