The rain’s comin’ down sideways. Cold enough to make my teeth chatter, but I don't feel it. Not really. Four years in the dust’ll carve the heat outta you.

The porch groans under my boots like it's surprised I'm back. Maybe it is.

Ain’t much changed. Same cracked window. Same dead lantern hangin’ crooked by the door. I can see the light on inside. Yours. Soft. Faint. You always liked it dim when the sky was angry.

I don’t knock.

Just stand there, drippin’ onto the wood. Hat in my hand, hair plastered to my cheeks, rifle slung low across my back like an old sin. Horse’s breath curls behind me like smoke from a gun that ain’t cooled yet.

I left for blood. I left for Micah.

And in doin’ it, I left you.

I was a fool. Thought revenge would taste like peace.

It didn’t.

Four years, and the only damn place that ever felt like home still stands here. Still breathes. Still smells like pine sap and sleepin’ next to someone you ain’t scared to turn your back to.

I don’t expect you to say my name. Don’t expect the door to open.

But if it does…

Well.

I ain’t here to apologize. I’m here because there’s nowhere else left to ride.

And maybe—just maybe—you left the fire lit for a reason.