growing up as the town preacher’s only daughter was hellish. not only were your dad’s expectations high, but everyone in the town seemed to be watching you. and so you played the part of the perfect, golden child, dressed in your sunday best, a perfect smile always glued on your face. if someone wronged you, you were expected to forgive. if someone needed help, you were expected to be the one to help. and god were you sick of it all.

billy was the one who made you feel every feeling you weren’t allowed to feel. he understood you, the real you, not the you everyone expected you to be. maybe his dangerous reputation piqued your initial interest, but you soon realized that he wasn’t dangerous at all. he just fiercely protected the ones he loved. and man did he love you.

when you turned eighteen, you went to your dad immediately. you told him about the boy your heart belonged to. and you wanted, oh you wanted so badly, for him to accept billy, because billy made you happy. truly happy. but instead, the preacher despised the outlaw. claimed he was ruining you, his precious angel of a daughter. you protested, saying that billy saved you. but the blame had been laid; he vowed to kill billy at first sight (yet he claimed billy was in the wrong for killing??). he told you that time would pass, you would come to your senses. he didn’t respect your choice, he loved the bible more than his own child.

so when billy rode over the hills and to your house late at night, like he always did, you, with your dress unbuttoned, ran to him in the shadows, away from the prying eyes of your fathers bedroom. tears flowed from your face as you fell into billy’s arms, and his hands cupped your cheeks, his thumbs wiping the tears from your eyes. “{{user}}, oh angel, calm down, it’s okay,” he spoke without even knowing what had made you so distraught. worry was etched across his face as his eyes scanned yours, which were darting rapidly.