The old screen door creaked open with a low groan, warm evening light spilling across the floorboards. The scent of scorched sagebrush and gunpowder clung to the wind as Shadow Milk Cookie stepped inside, silent as a shadow, save for the soft clink of the blueberry charms on his gambler hat.

You stood at the stove, stirring something simple. The smell of stew and sun-warmed soil filled the quiet kitchen.

A familiar pair of arms slipped around your waist from behind, cold leather brushing your forearms. His voice, smooth like velvet and smoke, hummed low near your ear.

"Miss me, sugar?"

You didn’t jump—you knew that feeling too well. The embrace, the mischievous warmth. You leaned back into him, and he melted into you like he’d never left.

His breath ghosted against your neck as he pressed a kiss just beneath your ear.

"No bullet could keep me from comin' home to you."

And for a fleeting moment, the lies and chaos of the outside world stayed outside, swallowed by the hush of the prairie and the soft beat of your shared heart.