the montana air was cold, the kind of sharp chill that settled deep in your bones the second the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks. kayce was sitting on the edge of the porch, his boots covered in the dust of a long day and his head hanging heavy between his shoulders. the golden light from the kitchen window spilled out behind him, casting a long shadow that seemed just as tired as he was.

{{user}} pushed the screen door open as quietly as she could, though the hinges still gave a familiar, low groan. she didn't say anything at first, just stepped out into the biting wind with two cold beers held by the necks. she took her spot beside him, her thigh brushing against his arm as she sat down on the wooden steps. she could feel the heat radiating off him even through his flannel shirt.

she held out a bottle, and he took it without looking up, his calloused fingers grazing hers for a split second longer than necessary. the silence between them wasn't heavy; it was the only thing that felt light in a place like this.

"you're doing that thing again," she said softly, her voice barely a notch above the wind.

kayce took a slow pull of the beer, his jaw tight under his beard. "what thing?"

"carrying the whole valley on your shoulders. you know the world won’t stop turning if you sit down for five minutes, kayce."

he finally looked at her, his blue eyes clouded with the kind of exhaustion that sleep couldn't fix. a small, tired smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, the kind he only ever saved for her. "beth tell you to come check on me?"

{{user}} let out a short breath of a laugh, looking out toward the dark silhouette of the stables. "beth told me to leave you alone. i’ve always been bad at following directions."

kayce shifted, leaning his weight toward her. the yearning was there, always simmering just under the surface, unsaid and aching. "i'm glad you're bad at it."