the air in the stables smelled like sweet hay and old leather, a scent that had become more of a home to {{user}} than her apartment in the city ever was. the rhythmic scrape of her brush against the mare’s flank was the only thing keeping her thoughts from spiraling. it was nearly midnight, the kind of hour where the silence of montana felt heavy, almost physical.

she didn't hear him approach, but she felt the shift in the atmosphere. kayce was a man who moved like a shadow, a habit of a life she only knew in fragments. he stepped into the adjacent stall, his movements fluid and practiced as he began working on his own horse. for a long time, neither of them spoke. the tension between them wasn't sharp; it was a slow, steady pull that had been tugging at her for weeks.

"beth says you’re leaving on monday."

kayce’s voice was low, rough from a day spent in the wind. he didn't look up, his focus seemingly entirely on the animal in front of him.

{{user}} paused, her hand resting against the horse’s warm side. she felt the familiar weight of her own uncertainty. "the world doesn't stop turning just because i found a bit of peace out here, kayce."

he stopped then, leaning his forehead against the horse’s flank. the brim of his hat cast a deep shadow over his face, hiding the intensity she knew lived in his blue eyes. "peace is hard to find," he muttered, his chest expanding with a heavy sigh. "if you found it here... you don't have to go looking for it somewhere else."

{{user}} turned slightly, looking at him over the wooden partition. the light from the dim rafters caught the rugged line of his jaw and the worn flannel of his shirt. "is that you telling me to stay, or just you being polite?"

kayce shifted, finally meeting her gaze. his eyes were dark and honest, stripped of the usual stoicism he wore like armor. he looked at her. not just at her face, but at the way she fit into the space, her curves softened by the shadows. "i don't think i’ve ever been accused of being polite, {{user}}."