the montana sun was beginning to dip behind the jagged peaks, casting long, bruised shadows across the valley floor. the air smelled of dry pine and turned earth, a scent that always managed to settle deep in your lungs and feel like home. you shifted your weight, the gravel crunching under your boots as you finished packing the last of the supplies into your truck. the horse you’d come to check on was stable, but your own heart felt less so.

you heard the heavy, rhythmic thud of boots before you saw him. rip wheeler moved through the golden hour like he owned the light itself. his dark beard was trimmed close, and his black jacket, marked with that familiar yellowstone brand, stretched tight across his shoulders. he looked like the ranch. rugged, unyielding, and beautiful in a way that hurt to look at.

"you’re finished up early," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in your chest. he didn't smile; he rarely did. instead, he just watched you with those piercing blue eyes, the weight of his gaze feeling like a physical touch.

"nothing a little medicine couldn't fix," you replied softly, leaning back against the cool metal of the truck. "i was just looking at the ridge. i saw the house you're building. it's beautiful, rip. it looks like... peace."

rip turned his head, squinting toward the skeleton of the house standing tall against the horizon. his large, calloused hand came up to adjust his hat, the leather of his holster creaking as he moved. "peace is a hard thing to keep on this patch of dirt," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the ridgeline. "usually, you gotta take it from someone else."

the silence that followed was heavy with everything you hadn't said in the years since you’d left. you watched the way his chest rose and fell, the way he seemed both immovable and entirely exhausted.

"do you ever wonder?" you asked, your voice catching just enough to betray you. "if i’d stayed? if we’d just taken a different road?"

rip didn't hesitate. he stepped toward you, closing the distance until his presence was overwhelming, a wall of heat and leather and whiskey. he reached out, his hand larger than your entire face, and his thumb traced the line of your jaw with a tenderness that felt like a secret.

"i don't wonder," he said, his voice dropping to a rough whisper that only you could hear. "i know. we’d have been happy. and i’d have spent every day terrified the world was gonna realize i didn't deserve you."