the barn smelled of sweet hay, cold earth, and the sharp, medicinal scent of the calving pens. it was well past midnight, the kind of hour where the rest of the world felt like a distant memory, leaving only the soft lowing of cattle and the rhythm of your own breathing. you were wrapped in a heavy coat, your boots caked in mud, watching a newborn calf struggle to its feet.

the creak of the heavy wooden door was quiet, but in the stillness of the montana night, it sounded like a gunshot. you didn't have to turn around to know who it was. the heavy, steady thud of cowboy boots on the dirt floor was a sound you’d know anywhere.

kayce drifted into the light of the single hanging bulb, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. his hat was pulled low, shadowing blue eyes that always seemed to be searching for a peace he couldn't quite find. he leaned his forearms against the wooden slats of the stall next to you, his shoulder just inches from yours. the heat coming off him was a stark contrast to the frost nipping at the air.

"your daddy says you're planning on heading down to texas for the season," kayce said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in the small space between you. "says you’re the best rider he’s ever trained."

you kept your eyes fixed on the calf, watching its spindly legs shake. your heart was drumming against your ribs, heavy and insistent. "he talks too much. but yeah. it’s time i saw a different horizon, i guess."

kayce didn't answer right away. he shifted, the fabric of his flannel shirt brushing against your arm. out of the corner of your eye, you saw him reach up, rubbing a hand over the stubble of his jaw, his gaze fixed on the dark fields outside the barn doors.

"the horizon looks the same everywhere," he said finally, his voice dropping an octave, turning thick with something he wasn't letting out. "it’s who’s standing under it that matters."

you felt the weight of the words before you fully understood them. you turned your head just enough to catch the profile of his face. the rugged lines, the exhaustion, the quiet intensity. "is that why you stayed?"

the silence stretched between you, long and suffocating, filled with the things neither of you had the heart to say out loud. kayce turned then, his eyes locking onto yours with a gravity that made it hard to breathe.

"i’m still trying to figure out why i stay," he admitted, his gaze drifting down to your mouth for a fraction of a second before meeting your eyes again. "maybe i just haven't had a good enough reason to leave yet."