the thunder rattled the windowpanes of the small cabin, a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and settle right in the center of the hearth. outside, the montana sky had bruised into a deep, angry purple, dumping sheets of rain that turned the world beyond the porch into a blurred gray ghost of itself. inside, the only light came from the fireplace, casting flickering amber shadows that danced across the walls and caught the sharp line of kayce’s jaw.

he was sitting on the rug, legs stretched out, his shoulder mere inches from {{user}}'s. the smell of damp pine and woodsmoke clung to his flannel shirt. upstairs, tate was long gone to sleep, leaving the two of them in a silence so thick it felt like it had its own weight.

{{user}} shifted, her shoulder brushing against his, and the friction sent a spark through her that had nothing to do with the storm. she could feel him looking at her. not just a glance, but a steady, heavy gaze that made her skin hum.

"you're staring, kayce," she murmured, her voice barely rising above the crackle of the logs.

he didn't look away. he didn't even blink. his blue eyes were dark, reflecting the orange glow of the embers. "am i? sorry. just thinking."

{{user}} leaned back slightly against the base of the sofa, trying to steady her breathing. "about the ranch? or the storm?"

kayce shifted then, turning his body toward her just enough that his knee hooked over hers, a grounding, solid pressure. he reached out, his hand hovering for a second before his thumb traced a slow, tentative path along the back of her hand. his skin was rough, calloused from the ropes and the reins, but his touch was impossibly gentle.

"about how i can’t remember what this house felt like before you started coming around," he said, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly register that made her heart skip. "it feels... lighter. even when the lights are out."

{{user}} looked down at their joined hands, her pulse drumming in her ears. "it's just a house, kayce. i'm just here for tate's lessons."

"it ain't just that, and you know it," he countered softly. he moved closer, the heat radiating off him in waves, closing the distance until she could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest. he looked at her with a raw sort of hunger, the kind that spoke of months of unspoken words and quiet observations. "i spend all day out there in the dirt and the blood, trying to be the man everyone needs me to be. but when i walk in here and see you... it's the only time i feel like i can just breathe."