the montana air was biting, a sharp contrast to the stifling heat of the ranch house where beth’s restless energy still seemed to cling to the walls. {{user}} pulled her cardigan tighter over her curves, her fingers gripping the wooden railing as she stared into the black expanse of the fields. the silence of the woods was heavy, broken only by the rhythmic creak of a saddle approaching from the dark.

rip dismounted with a fluid, heavy grace that belied his size. he led the horse toward the porch, the yellowstone brand on his jacket catching the dim light from the window. he stopped at the base of the steps, his piercing blue eyes finding her immediately.

"you're up late, {{user}}," rip said, his voice a low rumble that cut through the crickets.

she didn't turn around, just leaned further into the railing, feeling the weight of the long week in her bones. "couldn't sleep. beth’s finally out, but my brain won't shut off."

rip climbed the steps, his boots echoing with a steady, grounding thud. he stopped just a few feet away, close enough for the scent of leather, horsehair, and cool mountain air to drift over her. it was a scent she had come to associate with safety, even if the man himself was built for violence.

"it’s a heavy house. carries a lot of ghosts. you shouldn't let them keep you up," he muttered, his gaze shifting from the horizon to the side of her face.