the rain hammered against the tin roof of the shack, a relentless rhythm that drowned out everything but the sound of your own breathing. you sat on a wooden crate by the stove, clutching the edges of the blanket rip had draped over you. the wool was scratchy and smelled of cedar and him, a scent that always managed to settle your nerves even when the sky was screaming outside.

rip moved across the small space with a quiet heaviness, his spurs clinking softly on the floorboards. he didn’t look at the lightning through the window; he only looked at you. the dim light of the fire caught the blue of his eyes, making them seem sharper, more intense. he reached out, his large, calloused hand hovering near your damp hair before he pulled back, his jaw tight.

"kayce’s probably worried sick," you whispered, your voice trembling just enough to betray you. "he knows i hate lightning."

rip let out a low huff, more of a growl than a breath. he stepped closer, the black jacket with the yellowstone logo crinkling as he moved. he took the spot right in front of you, crouching down until he was at your eye level. his presence was massive, a wall of heat and muscle that made the small cabin feel even smaller.

"kayce knows you're with me," he said, his voice a low rumble that you felt in your chest. "he knows there isn't a storm on this earth i'd let touch you."