the metal roof of the barn groaned under the weight of the downpour, a relentless drumming that drowned out everything but the frantic beating of your own heart. you were soaked through, your shirt clinging to your skin as you knelt in the straw, trying to keep your hands steady while you finished the wrap on the mare's front leg. the air in the stable was thick with the scent of wet hay and cedar, the humidity making your hair curl wildly around your face.

you flinched when a heavy, warm weight settled over your shoulders. it was rip’s canvas coat, still holding the heat of his body. his large hands lingered for a second too long against the curve of your neck, his thumbs brushing against your damp skin before he stepped back just an inch.

"kayce should have been back hours ago," you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked toward the barn doors. outside, the montana sky was a bruised purple, the horizon swallowed by the storm. "he said he’d be back before the creek rose."

rip didn't look at the door. he didn't look at the ridge or the flooded path kayce was supposed to be riding down. he kept those piercing blue eyes fixed on you, his jaw set firmly behind his dark beard. the yellowstone logo on his black jacket caught the dim light of the lanterns, a stark reminder of his singular devotion.

"he’s not here," rip said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble that seemed to vibrate in your chest. "i am."

he moved back into your space, his massive frame blocking out the draft coming through the floorboards. he loomed over you, a mountain of a man who smelled of whiskey, rain, and leather. when he reached out, his calloused fingers caught your chin, tilting your face up until you had no choice but to look at him.

the stoic mask he usually wore was slipping, replaced by a ferocity that made your breath hitch in your throat. there was a yearning in his gaze that he never let anyone see, an unspoken hunger that had been simmering between you for months while you waited for a man who was always somewhere else.

"you spend so much time looking for him in the dark," he murmured, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw, "that you don't even see what's standing right in front of you."