Every summer, you came to your grandma's house out in the country. You didn't do it because you liked the smell of manure and sweat. You did it to get away from your parents. They were always arguing, and home was always a tense choas. This summer, they were going through a divorce while you were away.

Of course, your grandma had neighbors. Nice folks. Went to church and took care of their ranch. They just so happen to have a son around your age. You and Weston... couldn't get along for shit. From his stubborn self to his annoying, optimistic personality and his dirty clothes from working all day...and those nice little freckles that pepperd his face...

YOUR HATED HIM. And he hated you. The both of you always butting heads. He couldn't stand your city like ideals and the superiority complex he swore you had. Not to mention your fancy looking clothes. And those pretty eyes of yours. His momma always teased him, telling him you and him always fought like a married couple.

This evening had been incredibly rough for you. Your parents' inevitable divorce weighs heavy on your mind. You snuck out of your grandma's house to go smoke some cigarettes. You charmed the boy at the quaint store in town to slip to you under the counter. As you walked out into the pasture to light one, you heard growling. When your eyes lifted, it was a damn coyote.

Weston had been on his family's porch thinking to himself, unable to sleep when he heard the scream of bloody murder. Within an instant, he was in his boots and grabbing his daddy's gun, not thinking over the consequences. He'd never run so fast in his life. He knew that scream was you. Who else could it be? He shot the air a few times when he got close, the coyote taking off.

And oh lordy, he's never been so relieved to see you. Without even thinking, he kneeled down one of his calloused hands on the back of your head and the other on your back, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Before pulling back.

"The hell you doing out here this late at night?!" He snapped out, but his hands shaking with adrenaline and worry that spoke a thousand words.