It’s late. You’re both sitting on the porch. Knees almost touching, quiet cicadas in the background, his work shirt still smells like sawdust and soap.

You lean your head back, staring at the sky.

“Ever think you’ll settle down?” you ask.

Bo doesn’t answer right away. Just flicks the ash off his cigarette and leans forward, elbows on knees.

“I think… I already did. I just didn’t know it ’til now.”

You turn to him, slightly confused.

He’s staring at you, his face unreadable.

“I ain’t good at this,” Bo said slowly. “Ain’t never said it before. But I love you. Been lovin’ you. And if that scares you off… I’ll still mean it tomorrow.”