the bar was dim, the kind of place where the neon beer signs provided more light than the actual fixtures. {{user}} sat at a corner booth, her glass sweating against the scarred wood of the table. she didn't look up when the bell above the door chimed, or when the heavy, rhythmic thrum of cowboy boots started making its way across the floor. she didn't have to. she knew that gait, the steady, grounded weight of it, even after all this time.

kayce slid into the bench across from her without asking. he looked tired, the kind of bone-deep exhaustion that came from pulling calves and fighting a land that didn't want to be tamed. he took off his hat, setting it on the table between them, his blue eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. he looked rugged, his blonde hair curling slightly at the edges of his collar, a silhouette of denim and flannel that felt too much like home.

"you look good," he said, his voice a low, gravelly rasp that vibrated in her chest.

{{user}} traced the rim of her glass, her gaze flickering to the way his broad shoulders seemed to fill the small space. "i look like a woman who’s been awake too long, kayce. you look like you’ve been sleeping in the dirt."

he gave a small, ghost of a smile, the kind that never quite reached his eyes anymore. they sat in the silence for a moment, the air between them thick with the weight of years and the things they’d never managed to say. it was bittersweet, a heavy ache that felt like a phantom limb.

"do you ever think about it?" {{user}} asked softly, finally meeting his stare. "the ranch we talked about building? the one with the white porch and the horses that weren't bred for war?"

kayce leaned forward, his large hands flat on the table, calloused and stained with the work of the dutton name. he looked at her like she was the only fixed point in a world that was constantly shifting.

"every time i close my eyes and the world gets too loud, that’s where i go," he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper.

{{user}} felt the sting of tears and blinked them back, shaking her head slowly. she looked at the man he had become. the brand on his chest hidden beneath the plaid, the gun at his hip, the protector who couldn't protect himself from his own bloodline. "it’s a nice dream, kayce. but we’re awake now."

he reached out, his fingers just barely grazing the back of her hand, a touch so light it could have been the wind.

"i’m awake," kayce said, his eyes darkening with a yearning that felt like a physical force. "but i’m still looking for you in every room i walk into."