the silver light of five in the morning sat heavy over the dutton ranch, turning the frost on the fence rails into chipped diamonds. inside the horse pens, the only sound was the rhythmic, abrasive scrape of a stiff brush against horsehide and the low, warm huff of a mareβs breath in the cold air.
{{user}} kept her shoulder pressed to the animal, her movements steady and practiced, even if her heart felt like it was hammering against a ribcage that had grown too small for montana. she didn't have to look up to know he was there. the scent of cedar, old leather, and gun oil always preceded him, cutting through the sharp smell of hay.
kayce leaned his weight against the wood of the fence, his silhouette cutting a jagged line against the waking horizon. he looked exactly like the memory sheβd tried to outrun. tall, rugged, and wearing the weight of the world in the slump of his shoulders. his cowboy hat was pulled low, shadowing eyes the color of a winter sky.
"rip said you were headed back to the city at the end of the month," he said, his voice a low gravelly rasp that vibrated in the quiet space between them.
{{user}} didn't pause the brush. she focused on the muscle beneath the mare's coat, feeling the familiar pull of her own weight as she moved. "rip says a lot of things. usually whatever he thinks will keep me from getting comfortable."
kayce let out a breath, a pale cloud of steam in the freezing air. a small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, hidden mostly by the grit of his beard. "heβs just worried the mountains arenβt enough for you anymore."