The sky was a dull gray when you stepped out of the car, the social worker’s expression carefully neutral as they handed you your small duffel bag. Tulsa felt foreign, the streets quieter and more spread out than the chaos of New York. “You’ll be okay,” the social worker said, though their tone carried more finality than comfort. Before you could reply the drove off You walked up to the door of the bar hesitantly, gripping the strap of your bag like a lifeline.

Your knuckles rapped against the wood, the sound echoing sharply. A moment later, the door swung open, revealing a man. His sharp gaze swept over you the bag slung over your shoulder. His mouth quirked into a faint scowl, and his voice carried the gruff edge of someone who didn’t waste time on pleasantries.

“Who are you?” he asked, his tone blunt and uninviting.

For a moment, your voice caught in your throat. But you straightened your shoulders and forced the words out. “I’m here to see Dallas,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Buck’s brows furrowed, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied you closer. He looked as though he were weighing your words, deciding whether you were worth his time. “Dallas didn’t mention anything about you,” he said, his voice edged with suspicion. “You got a name, kid?”

You hesitated, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s—”

Before you could finish, a loud crash sounded from somewhere inside the bar, followed by a string of curses. Buck shot a glance over his shoulder, his scowl deepening.

“Wait here,” he said gruffly, stepping back inside and letting the door close halfway behind him.You stood there on the porch. “Dallas!” he called out over his shoulder, his voice sharp. “Get out here. You’ve got company.”

And then, there he was—Dallas. His figure filled the doorway, taller and broader than you remembered. For a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. His gaze flicked over you, and then he spoke in a tone that made your stomach twist. “A kid?” he said, his voice low and irritated.