"I tried to stop her…" Bob protested but his heart wasn't in it.

"Mmm hmm. I could see that from the way you fought so hard against those restraints," John teased. "You definitely didn't fall to your knees the second you saw our girl all dressed up for us."

You'd been biting your tongue while listening to their back and forth but found yourself unable to hold it any longer.

"The only part of him that fought restraint was his cock."

You didn't even get to see the comical look of betrayal on Bob's face as his head swiveled to glare at you. Just as you suspected, the machine under you buzzed in response, vibrations ramping back up - your punishment for speaking out of turn. You'd braced yourself for the inevitable outcome of your misconduct but couldn't quite fight the whine that escaped through your gritted teeth as pleasure started taking hold of you again, picking up right where it had left off.

Soon, the vibrations died down again back to a pleasant rumble, leaving you panting and whimpering in response.

"You know better than to speak when you're not spoken to, princess," John admonished. "But she has a point, Bobby. That cock ring looked like it was ready to pop off you."

Bob opened his mouth to once again assert his supposed innocence, but John cut him off.

"That's enough out of you. Unless you want to be tied up and put on a vibrator of your own when I get back." His voice was contemplative, as if he was mulling the idea around in his mind and finding it not entirely unappealing. "Or better yet, do. That sounds like a fun way to spend the night."

Bob's silence was all the answer he needed.

"Good boy," John practically purred. The resulting shiver than visibly ran down Bob's spine sent a jolt through your own, your cunt giving a particularly hard throb that had you clamping your mouth shut to keep the needy noises you were dying to make inside.

“Nice night,” Ford said conversationally. He was a man of few words, as Miles had learned in the course of getting to know him, but it was sweet that he was trying. “You can’t see this many stars in Sacramento.”

Miles nodded. It was indeed very pretty, the clear, dark sky above twinkling like diamonds. He wrapped his arms around himself, fighting off a shiver, and smiled at the other man. “Did you ever learn the constellations as a kid?”

“In Brooklyn?” Ford snorted. “Nah, the light pollution was even worse there.” His gaze dropped to Miles’s arms and he frowned softly. “Hey, you cold?”

“I’m fine,” Miles lied. The last thing he wanted was to cut the date short.

Ford clearly did not believe him, his perceptive blue eyes squinting slightly. But he seemed to let the matter drop, resuming their walk. “I can spot Orion’s belt and the big dipper, and that's about it. They had a land navigation course at Camp Mackall that included star charts, but I didn’t bother applying.”

“Oh, I remember reading about that one, but I was already at Fort Benning…”

Miles looked away, briefly, at a bar lit up with fairy lights, distracted by the twinkling, when he felt a weight land on his shoulders  — dense, warm fabric that smelled like Ford’s cologne.

It was Ford’s jacket. “Oh!” Miles clutched the collar so that it wouldn’t slip off. “Lew, you don’t have to —“

“‘Course I do.” Ford was smiling at him, apparently immune to the cold in only his button-down shirt. “What kind of asshole would I be if I let my boyfriend freeze to death?”

*Boyfriend*. That warmed Miles up even more than the jacket. He slipped his arms into the sleeves — too long for him, but that was just as well, as it kept his hands nice and toasty, too. “Thank you,” he said quietly, leaning up press a kiss to Ford’s cheek. “But if you get cold at all, I want you to take it back, okay?”

“If I get cold at all,” Ford murmured into Miles’s ear, “you can always warm me up at the motel.”

Miles blushed, giddy at the thought. He brought up a hand, the jacket’s cuff brushing over his knuckles, and patted Ford’s chest. “Maybe we should head back then.”

“Sure.” Ford pulled him in for a quick hug, kissing the top of his head. “The stars can wait when I’ve got you.”

It’s too dark for five pm. Wyoming in the summer is supposed to be endless, flat sun until nine, nothing but blue for miles. But it’s been storming for days, and the skies are grey and heavy, rain beating across the shitty metal roof of Dallas’ trailer louder than waves against rocks. Louder than a cop knock after a noise complaint. Louder than his dad’s voice in the back of his head calling him a thousand and one different things for getting down on his hands and knees for another man like it’s all he knows how to do. 

It’s still not loud enough to drown out his heartbeat, though. 

Todd can hear it pounding in his ears, blood rushing, as he struggles to catch his breath. It’s a little overwhelming—all the fucking noise. Until somebody else’s voice cuts through it all, hot breath curling around his ear from behind;

“That’s it. That’s my good little rich boy, takin’ what he wants.” Dallas murmurs, watching his fingers disappear inside Todd over and over again. He’s got Todd laying on his stomach, clothes tossed onto the floor, knees pushed up underneath him from support. The shorter haired man is still fully clothed, though, standing at the foot of the bed with his ratty white t-shirt softly pressing into the small of Todd’s back, those cheap ass work jeans of his (that are covered in fucking grass stains and God knows what all else) barely concealing what the younger one knows is waiting for him underneath. 

They’ve done this before. Every summer since he turned 18, when his family returns to their cattle ranch to escape the miles of too-hot asphalt in the city, he and Dallas sneak off for a quick fuck on the shitty mattress the older guy keeps frameless pushed up against the far corner of his room. Todd always complains about what a shithole this place is, and then Dallas always points out that it’s better than doing it out in the field where anybody could stumble upon them, and then they both stop talking for a while as they touch each other too eagerly for people pretending that this doesn’t matter. 

It’s funny. Once you lie to yourself long enough, it’s easy to convince yourself it’s true.

“What’ve you got goin’ on in that pretty head of yours, honey, hmm?” Dallas rasps, slipping his free hand down to the vee of Todd’s thighs to guide his hips faster, forcing the younger man to rock back onto the thrusting of his strong, calloused fingers. He adds a third one, curling them just right to drag a pathetic cry from high in Todd’s throat (he’s done this enough times by now to know every inch of Todd’s body- knows it better than he knows his own). Dallas buries his face against Todd’s shoulder, gently nipping at his skin, before breathing out, “What’re you doin’ thinkin’ about anythin’ but me? Huh?”

Todd's eyes flutter shut, red-hot embarrassment burning its way down his back just from Dallas’ fucking mouth. “...Somebody’s pretty damn full of himself.” 

That gets him a quiet laugh and a playful slap on the ass, before those fingers are removed (he doesn't whine- he doesn't), and he's rolled over onto his back. 

He’s bait in a trap. A pathetic fucking rabbit thrashing around in a tangle of ropes, as a wolf bares down on him from above. 

Dallas loves to play with his food. They never get enough time—not really—but what they do get, the ranch hand knows how to spend. He likes to make Todd undress real slow, touches him gently (for a while, at least), works him open for way too long just to see him squirm. 

And then he breaks. Sure as winter. 

Ripping his work shirt off over his head, Dallas undoes his jeans just enough to get his cock out, and then he drops down, one forearm beside Todd’s head, the other guiding himself forward between the other man’s spread legs. And then he stops, the head of his dick just barely pressing against Todd’s hole. Dark, squinting eyes peer down, searching his face for…something, before his face breaks out into a toothy smirk. “And somebody’s bein’ real mouthy tonight…you must not want it all that bad, huh, honey?”

Alright, now this time, he does whine. He’s too far gone to even be ashamed of it. With shaking, desperate hands, he grabs onto Dallas’ shoulders, and drags to drag him closer. “No, no, c’mon, please. Don’t- Don’t be like that.” 

Dallas laughs again and presses a deceptively sweet kiss below Todd’s jaw. But he doesn’t keep going, even when Todd tries to grind down against him to get him inside where he belongs. “Ask me nicely, Rich Boy.”

Shame, and pride, and want claw their way up from his guts, ripping his insides into vulnerable shreds. The thundering of the rain, and his heartbeat, and all those thoughts in his head have returned in full force, making him dizzy all over again, and all he can do to try and make it all go away is melt passively into the mattress, fluttering his eyelashes up at his cowboy like some goddamned damsel in distress. He knows it’ll get him what he wants- it always does. “...Please. I need it.” 

“There he is.” Dallas whispers with pride, before kissing him on the cheek, then both of his eyelids, and then finally, finally, his lips, prying the younger man open with his tongue to get at the heat of his mouth. After that, it’s like they’re both trying to climb inside each other, biting, and licking, and crawling as close as they can in the time they have left, before Todd has to sneak out without anyone else seeing. When he pulls away, his eyes are glazed, and it makes Todd’s stomach go tight as a drum to see. “There’s my good boy, bein’ so sweet for me.” 

He groans and strains his head up to bring their mouths back together again. And Dallas gives in easily, lets him kiss him for another minute, before he drags his wet mouth away to suck in a steadying breath, and inch forward, sliding all the way home in one go. 

Eight months out of the year, Todd walks around with a hole inside his chest that aches so loud, it keeps him up at night, no matter how hard he tries to ignore it. It’s that lying thing all over again. He tells himself it isn’t there, and by the end of the Spring semester, he almost believes it. And then all it takes is Dallas filling him up again, pinning him down with his strong, heavy body, to remind him what it feels like to be whole. Sometimes it even brings tears to his eyes, how unfair it is that there’s a part of him he never asked to give up just walking around Wyoming like it doesn’t bother him one bit. Like he doesn’t feel it too. 

But he has to, doesn’t he? With the way that Dallas looks down at him, eyes all hungry and hopeless, hands grabbing onto him like he’s scared somebody’s about to rip him away? He has to feel it, the way they fit together just right. 

Doesn’t he?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were his clothes scattered around the floor, his kitchen covered in empty takeout boxes and half-full protein shake mixers. His workout equipment was still in its place. His heart jumped out of his chest when his feet met the baseball bat lying on the carpet, showing little droplets of his blood. It couldn’t hurt to be prepared with the only rooms left, the small bedroom and the even smaller bathroom. 

Jordan could peek into the bathroom from the hallway, nothing strange, but from the bedroom, from beneath the door shines a dim light. Since the cops busted him in the middle of the day, Jordan is 100 percent sure he didn’t leave it on. His phone ends up in his pocket, holding on tight to the knob, shoving the door open with his foot. 

The unnatural warmth of the room sends a pleasant shiver through his spine, the source of light being his bedside table and on the bed, well it was definitely not what he expected. Snoring mixed with mumbles filled the room. There was a man in his bed, nothing out of the ordinary except that Jordan had never seen this man in his life. 

To make matters worse, he was in scrubs, maybe he left from the psychward, maybe he is a serial killer or a psychopath. With little steps, he approaches the bed further. If there is one thing Jordan had, it was extraordinary knowledge of humans, this man was definitely not dangerous. He put the bat down and accidentally hit the bedframe, the stranger seemingly unbothered by the noise. Technically, he could kill him; there is probably a law for that. He could ruttle him awake and throw him out of his apartment. 

Yet the way the brunet man rolls around, clinging to one of the pillows, drooling a little from the corners of his mouth- how could he? Maybe that guy just needed a good amount of sleep, Jordan has been in worse places before. With an exhausted breath and a shake of his head, he walks to the bathroom or rather the shower. The warm water running down his body attempts to wash away the shame, memories and troubles of the past few days. To a certain extent it works, afterwards he feels at least a little better, his mind occupied with what he should do with the man, that is until he steps into the living room. 

With only a towel wrapped around his hips, he observes as the stranger hastily searches through Jordan's wallet, holding a twenty-dollar note to his chest as if he just hit the jackpot. Everything that happened so far crashes over him in a big, dangerous wave, fists clenched so strong his knuckles turn ivory white, jaw so tight it may break his jawline. 

The poor stranger doesn’t stand a chance. Jordan is on him in a heartbeat, punching the wall right next to his head. „What the fuck do you think you're doing?” Wow, the scared, horrified midnight blue eyes staring back at him were something else. Jordan has to bite the pain coming from his hand down as he grabs the slightly lacerated collar, pinning the man against the wall completely. Is that gold? Flicking between the blue? Anyway, „Answer me or I'll call the cops!” 

„I’m- I’m Bob and I don’t remember, I don’t remember how I got here.” Jordan allowed himself a good look not missing the trembling and the injection sites. „You a methhead?” There would have been nicer ways to phrase it, but right now Jordan didn’t have the patience for it. Suddenly he is the one pressed against the wall, for the first time ever he clearly underestimated someone. He should have kept the bat nearby just in case. 

„Not anymore. I think. Sorry for disturbing you. I-I leave.” Bob drops the bill but does not make it to the front door, the brutal knock freezing every cell in his body. „Jordan, you little piece of shit! I know you are there. You still owe me my money!” 

Did he lock the door when he came back? The answer comes in the form of Terry pushing the door open until it cracks the wall behind it, ignoring Bob and coming straight for Jordan. The crack that follows lets Bob flinch, the blue in his eyes losing the battle, gold replaces it all over. 

„Leave him alone.” Jordan, who is curled up on the ground, holding his nose and hissing, looks up, not believing his own eyes. That Dude is floating above the god damn ground. 

Terry, who is probably stoned out of his mind, doesn't seem to notice and leaps at Bob and gets smashed through the wooden front door, head hitting the railing with a sharp, metallic crank. To their luck, nobody in that building seems to care or dares to come. 

Bob collapses while Jordan manages to stand up, inspecting Terry and fortunately finding a pulse. The growl is what catches his attention next. Bob wants to stand up but falls again. With urgent steps, Jordan is on him, lifting him and placing him on a chair. „Fuck dude, you knocked that shithead down without effort, you have to tell me your gym routine.” 

„My what? Oh my god, is he dead!?” 

„Chill, just unconscious.” While talking, Jordan paces his apartment, shoving everything he can into plastic bags. “Listen, you can’t stay here.”

„Wasn’t planning to. What are you doing?” 

„Can’t stay here either, too much shit going on. I can drop you off somewhere, friends, family?” 

Gaze drifting off, and lips pressed together, Jordan doesn’t need long to count one and one together.

„You’re alone?” Bob nods in defeat, why should he even try to lie? „Well, if you want to, you can come with me, I guess everywhere is better than here.” Bob shyly looks over to the unconscious man, he wanted to become a better person, but apparently it only got worse. 

„Hey, it's the least I can do for you since you got rid of that pig for me, no reason to get all shy.” Bob almost slides from the chair as Jordan throws some clothes into his lap. 

„Take them or else people think you broke out of a psych ward, you didn’t, right?” Again Bob nods, even though he is not sure, his mind is covered in a layer of fog. 

„Good, superboy, now get dressed.” 

„I’m not a dog.” Jordan's smirk is as amused as the huff that fills the air. One step out of the living room and Bob gets stopped by him blocking the way. 

„Well, you still slept in my apartment, don’t you think I deserve some compensation for that?” 

Bob could do the same thing to him as he did to Terry still, he chooses not to. Why? Honestly, he doesn’t know. Bob turns around for the lower part, feeling Jordan's eyes on his ass the whole time, hearing a lick of his lips once. For the upper part, he turns around, and Jordan's jaw drops to the floor. „Damn, you are shredded.“ Poor Bob can’t help himself but blush and the stupid yet genuine comment. 

Before Terry can wake up they are in Jordan's car, hitting the road, but that is not where Jordan's eyes are fixed. 

„What?” 

„I’m just jealous my clothes look better on you than they do on me.” After a while, a comfortable yet static silence settles between them, both having so many questions. As Jordan is about to ask one, Bob takes the word before he can. „Sorry, I’m just not in the mood to talk, okay? Later.” 

Jordan can live with later, so he is not poking. Bob, on the other hand, feels bad since he is the one who agreed to the ride. 

„What about you? You a dealer or something? Was that guy an unsatisfied customer?”

„No, no drugs, I’m a life coach actually.” Bob can’t hold back a giggle, the conviction in his voice not making it better. „So you are one of those dudes that tell you that meditation and waking up at 5 am is the answer to aaaaaall your problems?” Bob definitely hit a nerve here. Jordan's lips form into a thin line, his eyes widen, then turn into a hard glare. 

„First of all, it is way more complicated than that. Some people need years, if not decades of practice…” Bob really wants to listen, and for the first five minutes or so he does, the second his head rests against the car window, admiring the lights of the traffic, the streetposts, and the apartment windows they pass. They lure him to sleep in no time. 

At first Jordan doesn’t notice and goes on and on and on until a snore catches his attention. He should be pissed, he really should, but how? The rain has stopped, and given the high temperatures, the humidity causes Bob's curls to turn even more curly. There is already a stain of saliva on his shirt, and he looks just so peaceful. So all Jordan does is take a deep breath and reach behind him for a jacket. 

The second he draped it over Bob, he clung to it, curling up like a newborn. Mindful not to wake him, he brushed the strand of hair that covers half of his face behind his hair. So it doesn’t tickle him, not because Jordan wants a better view of Bob's face, that would be absurd. On the other hand, what in his life wasn’t right now?

-------------

It was distant, but there. The screams as people tried to get away, fighting with all they had to survive for just a minute longer. Shoes scraped across the ground as the undead groaned; the squelching of blood and flesh filled your senses as they feasted on their unfortunate victim who just wasn't fast enough to make it out. But you couldn’t dwell on it for long, not when you had to focus on keeping up with Bob and making it out alive.

Of course, the zombie outbreak had to happen on the one day you and Bob went into the city, full of people bustling through the streets and going about their day, not knowing this would be their last normal day on this earth. The phone lines were up just long enough for you to set up a rendezvous point with Rhett and Miles before the connection went dead.

Dodging every bloodied hand and snarling mouth that couldn’t wait to sink its teeth into you, you and Bob made a head to the edge of town. Where the city ended and the forest began was where Rhett's truck would be waiting for you.

Your lungs burned, desperate for you to slow down and catch your breath, but there was no slowing down when it meant your life was on the line. You ignored the way your heart raced, like it was about to explode right out of your chest, Bob's hand in yours being the only thing stopping you from thinking about what this meant for you all. The world was literally ending before your eyes on a random Wednesday afternoon. What bullshit.

“There!” Bob pointed ahead at that all-too-familiar GMC Sierra that came into view. Finally. You made it back to them. You could see a figure perched on top of the truck, like it was on lookout. It was hard to make out, but there was no doubt in your mind: it was Miles.

“Rhett! Miles!” You shouted, waving your hand up at them as Bob tugged you along.

Rhett's head shot up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash when he heard your voice. Relief filled his chest when he realized you and Bob were there together, holding hands as you ran through the grass. Yes, yes, they're alive, they're here, yes, yes, yes. He was about damn ready to celebrate, but then he saw it: the horde behind you. They were catching up; those nasty fuckers moved faster than the movies predicted.

 “Come on, hurry!” Miles shouted as he cocked his gun and shot one of the dead behind you. He wanted to jump out and carry you both back to the truck himself, but he knew he needed to cover you while Rhett kept the engine hot and ready to take off. “Come on, baby! You can make it!”

Six long strides were all it took for you to reach the bed of the truck. Bob wrapped his hands around your waist and hoisted you up first as Miles kept firing. The truck engine rumbled as you pulled Bob up next. The moment you two were in, he pushed you two behind him, out of his line of fire as he shot the undead straight between the temples. The former hotel clerk once made a vow to never lay his hands on another weapon, but now that it was the only way to keep his loves safe, he’d fire as many rounds, kill as many of these things as he needed to.

Beating on the back window, Bob yelled to Rhett, “We’re all good, go! Drive, drive!” Rhett had never hit the gas pedal fast enough, flooring it just as those ragged, bloody hands dared to touch the metal of his truck.

Out of breath and exhausted, you dropped yourself on top of Bob's chest, feeling his breath on your neck as he hugged you tight, like he was afraid that if he let go, somehow the dead would still find a way onto the truck and sink its teeth into you.

Once you were far away enough from the dead, Miles let his rifle fall to the side, immediately shifting his focus onto you both. “Oh, thank god!” Miles nearly sobbed as he hugged you tight, burying his head into the crook of your neck. Your chapped lips kissed his cheek, the air feeling lighter, like you could finally breathe again.

Miles pulled away but didn't let go of you when he pulled Bob in, tears of relief streaming down the former hotel clerk's reddened cheeks now that he finally had you two back in his arms. “M’ never letting you two out of my sight ever again.”

“Mi, we're okay, we’re okay. We were fast enough that we got out just in time. We’re okay, Miles.” Your reassurances didn’t stop him from rubbing you up and down your arms and legs, checking for any bites or scratches he may have missed.

Rhett watched you three through the rearview mirror. He wanted so desperately to hop into the back with you and hold you in his arms. When he and Miles saw what was happening on the news, he thought it must've been bullshit; no way this was actually happening. And then he heard your voice on the phone.

You sounded so scared, fear and panic clear as day in your voice as you described to them the carnage you'd just seen. Rhett never wanted to hear that sound in your voice again. But instead of doing that, he gripped the steering wheel for dear life, silently letting the tears build up behind his eyes as he thought about what would have happened if they hadn't found you.

The longer you drove, the darker the sky grew. Gunfire and the groans of the dead went from overwhelming to nothing the further into the forest you went. You, Miles, and Bob stayed huddled together in the bed of the truck, but your eyes never wandered from your cowboy in the front.

“Rhett…” you trailed off, opening and reaching through the small window to touch his shoulder. Rhett shuddered, refusing to look at you. “Pull over.”

He tried to sound strong, but you caught that tremble in his voice. “Can't. Gotta get us somewhere safe; it’s almost dark out, and we got no shelter.”

“We're far away enough from any city that I doubt the dead will be coming by, at least not tonight.” When he still didn’t listen, you pulled a move you knew was mean, but it was the only way he’d stop and get some rest. “Rhett, please, I just wanna hold you right now. After today, that’s all I want. Just need you in my arms and tell me it'll all be okay. Please…”

Breaks screeched to a stop, the low rumbling of the engine ceasing as Rhett pulled the keys from the ignition, his shoulders hunched, head low as he whispered, “We’ll sleep here for the night.”

By the time Todd realized Bob had stopped walking again, he was already six or seven steps ahead. Todd sighed dramatically and turned around. Bob stood near the edge of the trail, backpack hanging from both shoulders, staring through a break in the trees toward the water like he'd never seen a lake before in his life. Which, considering the color of this one, Todd supposed was fair.

Lake Louise looked almost fake.

The water was such an impossible shade of turquoise that Todd had spent the first ten minutes after they arrived quietly convinced someone had cranked the saturation up on the entire landscape. Mountains rose sharply around it, their peaks still streaked with pale remnants of snow despite the summer warmth. Dark evergreens framed everything, their reflections breaking apart whenever the breeze disturbed the surface.

It was the kind of place people put on postcards. The kind of place that made Todd understand why people willingly got up before sunrise while on vacation. Mostly.

He adjusted the strap of his camera around his neck and called back, "You coming?"

Bob didn't look away.

"Yeah."

Todd waited. Bob continued standing there. Todd smiled.

"Bob."

"I said yeah."

"You said that thirty seconds ago."

"I know."

"Generally, when somebody says they're coming, there's movement involved."

That finally got Bob to look over. His expression was almost offended.

"Look at this."

"I am looking at it."

"No, you're looking at me."

Todd raised the camera.

Click.

Bob stared. Todd lowered it.

"Now I'm looking at both."

Bob broke into a grin. "You've taken, like, thirty pictures of me already."

"Forty-two."

Bob blinked. "You counted?"

"No."

"Then how do you know it's forty-two?"

Todd started walking backward down the path again.

"I have a gift."

"For being annoying?"

"Among other things."

Bob laughed and finally followed. The sound carried easily through the quiet morning air. Todd turned around again before he walked into a tree.

They'd been in Banff for three days. Three days of Bob staring out rental-car windows like an excited kid, pointing at mountains Todd could already plainly see. Three days of Bob taking approximately five hundred phone pictures, then insisting Todd look at every single one as though Todd hadn't been standing right beside him when they were taken. Three days of restaurants, scenic drives, coffee on their hotel balcony, and Bob repeatedly saying some variation of, "Can you believe this place?"

Todd could.

What Todd was having slightly more trouble believing was that he'd managed to keep the ring hidden for the entire trip. It was currently buried inside a zippered pocket in the backpack Todd was wearing, tucked inside an old glasses case beneath a packet of tissues, two granola bars, sunscreen, and a tiny first-aid kit.

Bob had nearly discovered it yesterday. He'd been looking for painkillers after dinner and started rummaging through Todd's bag without asking. Todd had crossed the hotel room so quickly Bob had stared at him like he'd completely lost his mind.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"You just practically tackled me."

"I did not."

"You moved faster than I've ever seen you move."

Todd had taken the backpack from his hands.

"These are mine."

Bob had stared. Todd had stared back.

Eventually Bob had narrowed his eyes and said, "You're weird."

Then he'd gone looking through his own bag instead.

Todd had spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the edge of the bed pretending his heart wasn't trying to claw its way through his ribs.

He'd planned this for months.

Not Banff specifically.

The proposal.

The ring had been hidden in three different locations back home before he'd finally decided Bob was too likely to stumble across it accidentally.

Todd had also learned very quickly that carrying an engagement ring around while trying to behave normally was nearly impossible.

Everything suddenly became suspicious. Every time Bob touched his jacket, Todd panicked. Every time Bob moved one of his bags, Todd panicked. Every time Bob asked what he was doing on his phone, Todd panicked.

Apparently, attempting to make one of the biggest decisions of his life look like nothing at all required far more acting talent than Todd possessed.

The hiking trip around Lake Louise had always been the moment, though. Or at least the idea of it. Todd hadn't picked an exact spot.

That felt too rigid.

He wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere beautiful. Somewhere Bob would want to remember. And considering Bob had spent the entire morning looking like he'd stumbled into another universe, Todd was pretty confident he'd chosen correctly.

They followed the trail along the shoreline, sometimes close enough to the water that Bob could crouch down beside it, sometimes weaving slightly inland beneath the trees. It wasn't crowded yet. A few other hikers passed them in the opposite direction. Couples. Families. Someone jogging, which Todd privately considered an act of hostility against vacations everywhere.

Bob moved at a leisurely pace. Todd had accepted that they weren't hiking so much as wandering.

Every few minutes, Bob found something else deserving inspection. A particularly twisted tree root. A little cluster of wildflowers. A bird he couldn't identify. A clear view of the mountains. Another clear view of the exact same mountains from six feet farther down the trail.

Todd photographed most of it.

And Bob.

Mostly Bob.

Bob crouching near a cluster of tiny purple flowers. Bob squinting toward the opposite shore. Bob adjusting the straps of his backpack. Bob looking over his shoulder because Todd had called his name.

Click.

"What?"

"Nothing."

Click.

"Todd."

"Keep walking."

"You're being weird again."

"I'm always weird."

"Yeah, but you're being a different weird."

Todd froze for half a second. Bob smirked. Todd lifted the camera and took another picture.

"Very observant."

"You know there are other things here besides me, right?"

Todd glanced toward the enormous mountain directly beside them.

"Haven't noticed."

Bob's mouth twitched. "You're ridiculous."

"Keep moving."

Bob did. Todd watched him go. And smiled. He really was happy. That was the stupidly simple truth beneath everything. Todd was happy. Not in some huge, explosive way. Not constantly. Life didn't work like that. There were bad mornings and irritating afternoons. Bills. Laundry. Work. Grocery shopping. Bad moods. Missed calls. Arguments over whose turn it was to clean something neither of them wanted to clean.

There were nights when Bob couldn't sleep. There were days when Todd couldn't figure out how to say what was bothering him. There were moments when being together took work.

But beneath all of it—

Todd was happy.

Bob had somehow turned ordinary into something Todd actively looked forward to. Breakfast. Errands. Sitting on the couch doing absolutely nothing. Listening to Bob talk about something Todd only halfway understood while he cooked dinner. Finding Bob's shoes in the middle of the floor and complaining even while he moved them out of the way. Waking up and knowing, before he even opened his eyes, that Bob was there.

Todd loved him.

It had stopped feeling dramatic a long time ago. It felt fundamental now. Like something Todd carried without thinking. Like breathing. Like gravity.

Bob wandered slightly ahead again.

Todd reached up and checked the camera battery.

Eighty-seven percent. Good.

He checked the storage. More than enough.

Bob glanced over his shoulder. Todd immediately took a picture. Bob rolled his eyes.

"Subtle."

"Thank you."

"Wasn't a compliment."

"Still taking it."

They continued. Todd's nerves began creeping in slowly. Nothing had happened yet. He hadn't even chosen a spot. But his body apparently knew what his brain was planning and had decided to start preparing for catastrophe early. His palms felt warmer. His stomach had tightened. Every now and then, he became acutely aware of the weight in his backpack despite the ring weighing practically nothing.

He could feel it anyway.

Tiny. Impossible. Waiting. Bob stopped yet again. Todd almost laughed.

This time, though, he understood why.

The trees opened beside the trail. The lake stretched outward in front of them, bright beneath the morning sun. The mountains rose behind it in layers of gray and green, reflected vaguely in the water below.

There was nobody immediately around them.

The trail continued along the bank before disappearing behind the trees.

Bob stepped closer to the water. Not too close. Just enough. His shoulders relaxed.

Todd stopped behind him. Something in his chest tightened.

There. Maybe.

He looked around quickly.

A fallen log rested a short distance off the path, angled toward the water.

Todd glanced at Bob. Still looking away.

Todd quietly slipped the camera strap over his head. He moved carefully. He crouched beside the log, adjusted the camera, checked the framing. Bob was visible. The shoreline. The mountains. Enough open space behind him.

Todd's pulse jumped.

He switched from photo to video. Checked focus. Checked again. And again. Because apparently his brain had stopped trusting technology. He pressed record. A small red symbol appeared on the screen. Todd stared at it.

This was happening. Oh, God.

He stood quickly.

Bob was still oblivious. Todd nearly laughed from sheer nervous disbelief. He jogged the short distance toward him. Bob heard him coming and glanced sideways.

"What were you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Camera?"

"Landscape."

Bob looked toward where Todd had left it.

"...You left your camera."

"I know."

"That's usually the opposite of how photography works."

Todd slid both arms around Bob's waist from behind. Bob stopped talking. His body softened almost instantly. 

That got Todd. It always did. No hesitation. No stiffness. Bob simply leaned back against him like Todd was where he'd been expecting to end up anyway. Todd tucked himself closer. His chest pressed gently against Bob's back. His arms crossed low around his middle. Bob covered Todd's hands with his own.

For a while, neither of them said anything. They just looked. The breeze moved softly through the trees behind them. Water touched the shoreline in tiny, uneven sounds. Somewhere farther down the trail, someone laughed, distant enough that the sound barely reached them.

Todd rested his chin lightly near Bob's shoulder. Bob's thumb moved slowly over the back of Todd's hand.

"This is insane," Bob murmured.

Todd swallowed. "Yeah."

"I don't think pictures even look real."

Todd looked at Bob's profile instead. "No."

Bob smiled faintly.

"I kinda don't want to leave."

"We've got a hotel."

"I mean Banff."

"Oh."

Bob leaned his head slightly toward Todd's. "Could live in the woods."

"No."

"A cabin."

"No."

"By the lake."

"Absolutely not."

Bob laughed softly.

Todd smiled against his hair.

"What? You don't wanna become mountain people?"

"I like central heating."

"Cabins have heat."

"I also like delivery."

"We'd survive."

"You'd survive. I'd become bitter."

"You're already bitter."

Todd squeezed him. Bob laughed again. Then settled. Silence returned.

Todd closed his eyes for one second. Just one.

He tried to memorize the feeling. Bob's hands over his. Warmth through their clothes. The smell of pine and sunscreen and the faint clean scent of Bob's shampoo. The breeze brushing past them. The lake ahead. The terrible pounding of Todd's heart. Remember this.

He opened his eyes. The camera already was. That thought nearly made him lose his nerve.

He kissed Bob's temple. Bob hummed. Todd loosened his arms. Bob instinctively caught one of his hands for another second before letting go.

Todd stepped backward. His legs already felt strange. Bob stayed facing the lake. Todd took another step.

His hand went to the zipper on his backpack. His fingers fumbled. Of course. He finally got it open. Found the glasses case. Opened it. The ring box was inside. Todd stared at it for half a second, then he took it out.

His hands were shaking. Not slightly. Actually shaking.

Todd exhaled.

This was ridiculous. He'd imagined himself nervous. He had not imagined his entire nervous system staging a revolt.

He stepped backward once more. Dropped carefully to one knee. Nearly lost his balance.

Recovered.

Looked at Bob.

His throat closed.

"Hey."

Bob hummed absently. Todd swallowed.

"...Bob."

The second time came out differently. Bob heard it. Todd watched the change happen. Bob's shoulders shifted.

He turned. And stopped. Completely.

For one strange second, neither moved. Bob stared at him. Todd stared back.

Bob's eyes dropped immediately.

Todd.

One knee.

Small box.

His mouth opened.

Nothing came out.

Todd's hand shook so badly the box visibly trembled.

That broke the silence.

Bob breathed, "Oh my God."

Todd laughed once. Except the laugh caught halfway out because suddenly his eyes were burning.

"Oh, no."

Bob's hands came up toward his mouth.

"Todd."

"Don't—" Todd rubbed quickly beneath one eye with the heel of his free hand. "Don't do that yet."

Bob stared at him, already glassy-eyed.

"I'm not doing anything."

"You're doing the face."

"What face?"

"The crying face."

Bob gave a tiny, strangled laugh. "I'm not crying."

"You absolutely are."

"So are you."

"I know."

That somehow made it worse. They both laughed.

Todd looked down for a second.

He had a speech. He'd practiced it. In the shower. In the car. Once in the kitchen while Bob was outside getting the mail. He knew exactly what he wanted to say. At least he had.

Now his mind contained roughly three words.

Bob.

Love.

Marriage.

Todd took a breath. Then another.

"I had this whole thing."

Bob's expression crumpled a little more.

Todd pointed at him with the ring box.

"See? That's exactly what I meant. Stop."

Bob laughed through the tears now slipping down his cheeks.

"Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"I'm really not."

Todd looked at him. And everything he'd rehearsed suddenly mattered less. Maybe that was okay.

"I love you."

Bob's lips pressed together.

Todd nodded once as if confirming it to himself.

"I love you so much."

Bob wiped at his cheek. Todd continued before his courage could disappear.

"And I know that's not exactly groundbreaking information."

A shaky laugh from Bob.

Todd smiled.

"But..."

His voice caught. He stopped for a second to breathe. Bob waited. Not impatiently. Not even moving, just looking at him. Todd felt something inside him settle. A little. Enough.

"You make my life better."

Bob inhaled softly. Todd looked briefly toward the lake. Then back at him.

"And I don't mean you make everything easy. Because you don't."

Bob laughed wetly. "Wow."

"No, shut up. I'm trying."

"I'm sorry."

Todd smiled helplessly. "What I mean is...life is still life."

He looked down at the box in his hand.

"Stuff still sucks sometimes. We get annoyed. We get tired. You leave your crap everywhere."

"I do not."

"You do."

"Proposal's going great."

Todd laughed, and this time it came easier. Then he looked up again.

"But even when stuff sucks, I want you there."

Bob went very still. Todd's smile softened.

"I want you there when it's good. I want you there when it's boring. I want you there when we're pissed off at each other. I want grocery stores and bad movies and vacations and laundry and all of it."

His eyes burned again. He let them.

"I want every ordinary thing with you."

Bob covered his mouth. Todd's voice lowered.

"I admire you."

That seemed to hit Bob differently. His brows drew together. Todd nodded.

"I do."

He swallowed hard.

"You're...good, Bob."

Bob looked down.

"No. Look at me."

Slowly, Bob did. Todd kept going.

"You're kind even when nobody's asking you to be. You care about people. You care about me in ways I didn't even know I needed somebody to."

His voice shook.

"You make me feel safe."

Bob's eyes closed briefly. Todd's chest tightened.

"You make things feel like home."

A tear finally escaped Todd's eye and slid down his cheek. He ignored it.

"And I don't know where we're gonna be in ten years."

Bob smiled shakily.

"Hopefully not living in your lake cabin."

Bob made a tiny noise that might have been a laugh. Todd smiled.

"But I don't really care where we end up."

He looked straight at him.

"As long as you're there."

Bob's hands dropped slowly from his face.

Todd opened the ring box. The band caught the sunlight. Bob stared. Todd's entire body seemed to start trembling again. He breathed in. It wasn't steady. Not even close. Neither was his voice when he finally asked.

"Bob Reynolds..."

Bob's face crumpled. Todd smiled through tears.

"Will you marry me?"

Bob didn't answer. Todd had just enough time to register this before Bob moved. Fast.

"Bob—"

Todd's warning became a grunt as Bob practically launched himself at him. Todd toppled backward. The ring box flew from his hand—Thankfully closed. It landed harmlessly in the grass beside them. Todd hit the ground with Bob on top of him.

"Oof!"

Bob's arms locked around his neck. Todd stared at the sky for half a second. Then burst out laughing.

"Jesus Christ!"

Bob buried his face against Todd's shoulder. Todd wrapped both arms around him. His laughter dissolved almost immediately into something shakier. Bob was crying against his neck. Actually crying. Todd squeezed him harder.

"Hey."

Bob shook his head. Todd laughed softly.

"Is that a yes, or did you just decide to kill me in Canada?"

Bob pulled back. His cheeks were wet. His nose was pink. His hair had fallen forward into his face. Todd thought he'd never seen anything more beautiful.

Bob kissed him. Todd barely had time to react before Bob's mouth was on his. He smiled into it. Reached up. Held Bob's face between both hands.

The kiss was messy. Too emotional to be graceful. Bob kept laughing into it. Todd did too. Their noses bumped. Neither cared. Bob kissed him again. And again. Todd's thumb brushed a tear from Bob's cheek.

Bob pressed closer. Then, somewhere in the middle of another kiss, Bob whispered against Todd's mouth.

"Yes."

Todd froze. Bob kissed him again. Todd's hands tightened against his face. Bob smiled against his lips.

"Yes."

Todd laughed. A completely helpless sound.

"Yeah?"

Bob pulled back just far enough to look at him.

"Yes, Todd."

Todd stared. Bob's eyes filled again.

"God, yes."

Todd pulled him down. The kiss that followed was softer. Slower. Todd could feel himself smiling the entire time. Bob's hand slid into his hair. Todd's other arm wrapped around his back. They stayed like that until eventually Bob started laughing again.

Todd pulled away.

"What?"

"We're on the ground."

"You tackled me."

"I got excited."

"You could've said yes like a normal person."

"You're asking me to marry you and you're complaining?"

"I'm saying I almost died."

Bob kissed the corner of his mouth. "You survived."

"Barely."

Another kiss. Todd smiled. Then suddenly remembered.

"The ring."

Bob's eyes widened.

"Oh my God."

Todd twisted his head.

There.

The box sat in the grass two feet away. Todd sagged with relief.

"Jesus."

Bob started laughing. Todd carefully pushed himself upright. Bob moved back enough to let him sit.

For a moment they simply sat facing one another on the ground. Both disheveled. Both teary. Both grinning like idiots.

Todd reached for the box. Bob stared at it as Todd opened it again. The ring was still there. Of course it was. But Todd still checked. Bob laughed softly.

"You thought it escaped?"

"After you body-slammed me? Maybe."

"I didn't body-slam you."

Todd looked up. Bob's smile grew.

"Okay. Maybe a little."

Todd shook his head.

His hands were still shaking. Maybe worse now. He carefully lifted the ring from the box. Bob's breath caught at the sight of the full ring. Todd saw it, the tiny change.

Suddenly this part felt different. 

The question had been chaos. Tears. Laughter. Falling over.

But this? This was quiet.

Todd held the ring between his fingers. Bob looked down at it. His expression softened completely.

Todd swallowed. "Hand."

Bob looked at him. "Huh?"

Todd smiled. "Give me your hand."

"Oh." Bob laughed nervously.

Then lifted his left hand. It was shaking too.

Todd stared. "You're worse than me."

"No, I'm not."

"You absolutely are."

"I just got engaged."

"So did I."

Bob blinked. Then smiled.

"Yeah."

Todd's chest tightened again.

"Yeah."

Bob held out his hand. Todd took it gently. Warm palm. Long fingers. A faint roughness at the base of Bob's fingers.

Todd had held this hand thousands of times. Crossing streets. Watching movies. Walking through stores. Half asleep in bed. Without thinking. Now he held it like something fragile.

Bob's fingers curled slightly around his. Todd ran his thumb slowly across Bob's knuckles. Then repositioned the ring between his fingertips.

The metal felt cool. Surprisingly cool.

Todd noticed everything all at once. The smooth edge against the pad of his thumb. The tiny weight of it. Bob's palm resting against his. The faint tremor running through both their hands.

Todd looked up. Bob was already watching him. Todd smiled. Bob's eyes immediately filled again.

"Oh, come on."

Bob laughed.

"Shut up."

Todd looked down before he started crying again too.

He brought the ring to Bob's finger.

The first touch of metal against Bob's skin made Bob inhale.

Todd paused. "You okay?"

Bob nodded quickly. "Yeah."

Todd's voice softened. "Yeah?"

"Put it on."

Todd smiled.

Slowly, he slid it downward. The band passed over the first part of Bob's finger easily. Then caught gently at the knuckle. Todd stopped. Bob's fingers flexed.

"Wait."

"What?"

"No, no—it's fine. Just..."

Bob laughed nervously.

"My hand's shaking."

"So is mine."

Todd steadied Bob's hand between both of his. Their wrists touched. Todd could feel Bob's pulse. Fast. Probably matching his own.

He adjusted the angle slightly. Pressed carefully. The ring slipped over the knuckle. Then slid smoothly into place.

Both of them went silent. Todd's breath left him.

There it was. Resting at the base of Bob's finger. Perfect.

Bob stared down. Todd didn't let go. Not yet.

His thumb moved slowly over the band. Warm now from Bob's skin. Todd traced the edge once. Then again. Something about seeing it there made everything feel suddenly, overwhelmingly real.

Not the kneeling. Not the question. Not even Bob saying yes.

This. The ring on Bob's hand. Todd's ring. Bob wearing it.

Bob's lips parted slightly. He turned his hand. The sunlight caught the metal. Bob turned it back. Todd watched his expression change.

Awe. Disbelief. Then a smile that appeared slowly.

"...I'm engaged."

Todd laughed softly. "Yeah."

Bob looked at him. "So are you."

Todd's smile broke wide. "Yeah."

Bob looked down again. He touched the ring lightly with the fingers of his other hand.

"It's really there."

Todd swallowed. "Yeah."

Bob turned his hand once more. "I'm gonna marry you."

Todd's eyes burned. He shook his head.

"You're gonna make me cry again."

"You've been crying for ten minutes."

"I've been emotional."

"That's crying."

"Don't ruin this."

Bob laughed. Todd leaned forward. Their foreheads touched. Bob's hand slid gently around Todd's wrist. Todd looked down again. The ring sat between them.

"I'm gonna marry you," Bob whispered again.

Todd closed his eyes. "Yeah."

Bob smiled. "You're stuck with me."

Todd opened his eyes. "God, I hope so."

Bob kissed him. Softly this time. No rushing. No tackling. Just the warm press of his mouth against Todd's while Todd held his newly ringed hand between them.

When they separated, neither moved far. Todd brushed his nose lightly against Bob's. Bob smiled.

Then glanced toward the camera. His expression changed. Todd saw it. Bob slowly looked back.

"Todd."

Todd bit the inside of his cheek as Bob pointed.

"...Is that recording?"

Todd looked over. The tiny red light was still visible. He looked back.

"Maybe."

Bob's mouth fell open. "You recorded it?"

Todd smiled. Bob stared.

"You recorded the whole thing?"

"Assuming the camera didn't fall over when you attempted murder, yeah."

Bob's eyes filled again. Todd immediately pointed at him.

"No."

Bob laughed.

"Todd."

"No more crying."

"You recorded it."

"I wanted us to have it."

That shut Bob up. Todd's expression softened.

"I wanted you to be able to see it."

Bob looked toward the camera again then back.

"Me tackling you?"

"Unfortunately."

Bob laughed.

Todd stood first. His knees protested. He held out his hand. Bob looked at it, then at the ring, then smiled. He took Todd's hand. Todd pulled him upright. They didn't let go. Todd retrieved the camera. The recording was still running. He stopped it. Saved. He checked the thumbnail. Bob leaned over his shoulder.

"Did it get us?"

Todd scrubbed briefly through the footage. There they were. Tiny on the screen:

Todd behind Bob. The lake. The hug. Todd stepping backward. Bob turning around. Todd kneeling. Then, Bob flying into him.

Todd snorted. "Oh, my God."

Bob started laughing. "I didn't realize I ran that fast."

"You almost took my head off."

"You were fine."

"I disappeared from frame."

Sure enough, the footage showed both of them dropping completely out of sight. For several seconds there was nothing but mountains and lake while their laughter played from somewhere below the camera. 

Bob covered his mouth. Todd laughed harder.

"This is terrible."

"It's perfect."

Todd looked sideways. Bob wasn't watching the screen anymore. He was watching Todd. Todd's laughter faded into a smile.

"Yeah?"

Bob nodded. "Perfect."

Todd leaned over and kissed him. Then Bob took Todd's hand again and they continued walking.

The hike was different now. Nothing around them had changed. Same trail. Same lake. Same mountains. Same morning. But Bob kept looking at his hand. Every few minutes. He'd lift it slightly. Turn his wrist. Watch the ring catch the sun. Todd pretended not to notice at first. Eventually he stopped pretending.

"You keep staring at it."

Bob glanced over. "No, I don't."

"You literally are right now."

"I'm checking it."

"For what?"

Bob looked down. "To make sure it's still there."

Todd squeezed his hand. "It's not going anywhere."

Bob smiled. "I know."

A few minutes later Todd caught him doing it again. This time he didn't say anything. He simply lifted their joined hands and kissed Bob's knuckles.

Bob looked at him. Todd kept walking. Bob's smile became ridiculous.

"Todd."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Todd smiled too.

They wandered along the lake like that. Hand in hand. Every so often Bob squeezed. Todd squeezed back. Sometimes their arms swung gently between them. Sometimes Bob's thumb rubbed over Todd's knuckles. Sometimes his thumb drifted instead to the ring. Todd noticed every single time.

At one point Bob stopped abruptly. Todd nearly walked past him.

"What?"

Bob pulled him back. Then kissed him. Todd made a surprised noise before smiling into it.

When Bob pulled away, Todd blinked.

"What was that for?"

Bob shrugged. "I'm engaged."

Todd laughed. "That doesn't answer my question."

"It does to me."

They kept walking.

Later, they stopped at another overlook. The trail rose slightly there, giving them a wider view across the water. Bob rested his forearms against a wooden railing. Todd stood beside him.

For once, Todd didn't reach for the camera. He simply looked. The sunlight had shifted higher. The lake seemed brighter now. Tourists moved in tiny shapes farther down the shoreline. Clouds drifted slowly around the peaks.

Bob exhaled.

"This is gonna be really hard to top."

Todd glanced over.

"I wasn't trying to."

Bob turned his head.

"No?"

Todd shook his head.

"I already got what I came here for."

Bob stared at him. Todd held his gaze for approximately two seconds before Bob's face did that thing again.

Todd groaned.

"Oh, no."

Bob laughed.

"You can't say stuff like that."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

Bob reached over and grabbed the front of Todd's shirt. He pulled him closer.

Todd laughed.

"Violent today."

Bob kissed him. Todd slid one hand to Bob's waist. The other stayed on the railing. When they pulled apart, Bob rested his forehead against Todd's temple. For a few seconds, they simply breathed. Then Bob looked down. His left hand was resting between them. The ring gleamed softly. Bob rubbed his thumb over it. Todd covered his hand. Their fingers threaded together. The ring settled between them. Todd felt it press lightly against his finger.

New. Solid. There.

Bob looked at him. Todd smiled. Bob smiled back. Then they turned toward the trail. There was still plenty of it ahead. More trees. More water. More stops Bob would undoubtedly insist on making. More pictures.

Eventually lunch. Eventually the hotel. Eventually phone calls and messages and people losing their minds when they found out.

Later.

None of that mattered yet. For now, Todd adjusted his backpack. Bob moved closer. Their shoulders bumped. Their hands stayed intertwined.

And together they continued down the trail, sunlight flickering through the trees ahead of them.

Bob glanced down one more time. At the ring. At their hands. Then up at Todd.

Todd caught him. "What?"

Bob shook his head. "Nothing."

Todd squeezed his hand. Bob squeezed back. And they kept walking.

Boyfriends no longer.

Fiancés.

Hand in hand toward whatever came next.

The horse held the expression, looking less intimidating than deeply offended by Rhett's continued existence.

"I ain't even done nothin' to you."

Another snort.

Rhett shook his head, already reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He unlocked his phone, angled it over the fence, and snapped a quick picture just as the horse doubled down on his expression—ears back, teeth bared, eyes narrowed in dramatic suspicion.

Perfect.

A grin tugged at one corner of Rhett's mouth as he opened your text thread.

The conversation was already littered with photos of dogs he'd met on jobs, oddly-shaped vegetables from the garden, calves that refused to stay standing, and more goats than he cared to admit.

He attached the picture.

new guy doesnt like me too much. looks like Mr. Ed.

Rhett hit send before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"You oughta be nicer," he told the horse.

The horse answered with another indignant snort.

Rhett chuckled to himself as he turned back toward the barn. He didn't bother checking for a reply. You always answered animal pictures.

Always.

-

A couple hours later, the afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, taking just enough of the edge off the Arizona heat to make it bearable.

Rhett settled himself on the top rail of a short weathered fence with his lunch balanced beside him.

A sleeve of crackers. A few slices of cheddar wrapped in wax paper. An apple.

Simple. Easy.

He'd barely gotten one cracker topped with cheese before the unmistakable sound of tiny hooves on packed dirt reached his ears.

He looked over.

"...Now don't y'all start."

Five goats stared back at him.

Six.

Seven.

Apparently, word had spread.

The smallest one trotted right up without a shred of shame, stretching its neck toward the cracker in Rhett's hand.

"No."

It took another step as Rhett moved his hand away.

"No."

Another.

"You got grass."

The goat blinked, then placed both front hooves against his knee.

Rhett let out a surprised laugh as another nudged against his boot while a third investigated the apple resting beside him.

"I ain't feedin' all of you."

One ambitious little goat somehow managed to wedge itself halfway into his lap, nose buried against his flannel in search of cheese.

"Oh, come on now."

He laughed again, steadying the little menace with one hand before it toppled backward off the fence.

"You don't know nothin' 'bout personal space."

The goat responded by trying to steal the cracker directly from his fingers.

Rhett shook his head, grinning despite himself.

"You're lucky you're cute."

With goats now surrounding him on nearly every side, he dug his phone out of his pocket again.

He held it out, making sure to fit himself and as many furry thieves into frame as he could.

Just as he pressed the button, the little goat in his lap stretched toward the cheese again, making the selfie even better.

He chuckled quietly as he opened your text thread.

Underneath the picture of the disgruntled horse from earlier, he attached the new photo.

these little assholes think my lunch belongs to them.

He hit send. Pocketed his phone. Finished his cracker.

Then, almost absentmindedly, pulled his phone back out.

The conversation sat exactly as he'd left it:

The horse. The goats. No little typing bubble. No heart reaction. No laughing emoji. No response.

His brow knit together for just a second.

"Hm."

He glanced at the time.

You were probably busy.

Maybe you were out with Wesley. Maybe you'd taken a nap. Maybe your phone had died.

There were a dozen perfectly ordinary explanations.

Rhett slipped the phone back into his pocket with a small shrug before breaking off another piece of cheese. The goats immediately resumed their campaign to convince him it belonged to them instead.

The last hour of the workday always seemed to crawl.

Rhett finished stacking a few empty feed bags in the storage shed before shutting the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with his sleeve, rolled one shoulder, then reached into his pocket for his phone.

Still no notifications.

He frowned at the screen for a moment before opening your conversation.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

you okay?

He deleted it.

You were probably fine. Busy happens.

Instead, he smiled to himself and typed something lighter.

Wanna stay at my place tonight? Let Wes party with the snakes? :)

He hit send.

The message appeared beneath the others.

Horse.

Goats.

Sleepover.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed toward the barn to finish locking everything up for the evening.

-

About fifteen minutes later, with the last gate latched and the water troughs topped off, curiosity finally got the better of him.

He leaned against the side of his truck and pulled his phone back out.

Nothing.

No read receipts. No reaction. No reply.

Just three messages sitting there unanswered.

His brows drew together.

That...

That wasn't like you.

You answered animal pictures before you answered almost anybody else.

Even if all you sent back was a string of crying emojis or a dramatic declaration that you were stealing whichever creature he'd photographed, you answered.

Always.

Rhett stared at the screen for another few seconds.

"...C'mon, darlin'."

His thumb hovered over your name.

He wasn't much of a caller. Neither of you really were.

Most things could wait until one of you showed up at the other's place.

Still...

He pressed the call button.

The phone rang against his ear.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His foot tapped absently against the gravel beneath him.

"C'mon..."

The ringing stopped.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messag—

Rhett pulled the phone away before the message finished and ended the call.

For a long moment, he simply stood there beside his truck, staring at the dark screen in his hand.

A knot tightened low in his stomach.

You hadn't answered a single text. You hadn't answered your phone.

And suddenly...

None of the ordinary explanations felt quite so convincing anymore. So, Rhett climbed into his truck and shut the door. The familiar thunk echoed through the cab before settling into silence. He rested both hands on the steering wheel for a second.

She's probably fine.

He started the engine. The truck rumbled to life beneath him as he pulled out onto the dusty road leading away from the ranch.

For the first mile, he kept trying to convince himself there was nothing to worry about.

Maybe you'd left your phone at home.

Maybe it'd died.

Maybe you and Wesley had gone somewhere.

Maybe you'd fallen asleep.

You deserved a lazy afternoon every once in a while.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Except...

You always answered animal pictures.

Even hours later.

Even if it was just—

LOOK AT HIM

—or—

please tell that goat i said hi.

His jaw tightened.

Maybe...

Maybe he'd done something.

He replayed the other evening in his head.

Dinner.

Watching television.

You'd laughed at something Wesley had said.

Rhett had laughed too.

Had he gotten quiet afterward?

Too quiet?

Had he seemed irritated?

He frowned.

He hadn't meant to if he had.

His thumb rubbed absentmindedly across the worn leather wrapped around the steering wheel.

Maybe Wesley had said something.

Not on purpose.

Lord knew Wesley could accidentally step in it sometimes.

Maybe there'd been some misunderstanding.

Maybe… Hopefully?

His stomach tightened.

Maybe somebody from Wyoming had found a way to reach you.

The thought settled over him like a weight.

A letter.

A phone call.

Somebody from town.

Somebody asking questions that ought to stay buried.

He swallowed.

No.

You would've told him.

Wouldn't you?

...Wouldn't you?

His grip tightened again.

Another possibility shoved its way in.

One of the snakes?

Natalie?

Earle?

Had something happened again?

You loved those little weirdos more than just about anything.

If one of them got hurt...

You'd be beside yourself.

He shook his head.

No.

Wesley would've called.

Unless...

Unless Wesley was busy helping you.

The thought hit him so suddenly it almost made him miss his turn.

She's sick.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe she'd been asleep all day.

Maybe she'd caught something.

Maybe she...

His pulse picked up.

She's hurt.

His foot pressed a little harder on the gas without him realizing.

By the time the familiar neighborhood came into view, every possibility had tangled together into one ugly knot sitting squarely in the middle of his chest.

He turned onto your street.

Your house appeared toward the end of the block exactly where it always was.

Perfectly normal.

Perfectly still.

He pulled into the driveway and shifted into park. The truck fell quiet.

Rhett didn't move. His hands were still wrapped around the steering wheel.

Only now...

He noticed they weren't steady.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"She's okay," he murmured to the empty cab, as much to convince himself as anyone else.

Then he reached into the center console for the spare key you'd insisted he keep months ago.

His fingers closed around it.

He climbed out of the truck.

By the time he reached your front door...

His heart was pounding hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.

Rhett slid the key into the lock with hands that were steadier than he felt. The deadbolt clicked. He pushed the door open.

"Hello?"

The house was quiet.

Not silent.

Quiet.

The low hum of the air conditioner.

The faint clink of a spoon against metal.

And...

Something smelled savory.

Instantly recognizable.

Soup.

Rhett stepped inside, closing the door behind him before slipping off his boots.

"...Wes?"

"In here."

The voice came from the kitchen.

Rhett rounded the corner.

Wesley stood at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of noodles.

Natalie was draped loosely around his shoulders like a living scarf, her head lazily resting against his chest.

Normally, Wesley would've greeted him with some ridiculous comment. Probably something about being underdressed for a snake dinner party.

Instead...

Nothing.

His hair stuck out in every direction. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His T-shirt looked like he'd slept in it. Maybe more than once.

He didn't even look up immediately.

Rhett studied him for a second.

"What you makin'?"

"...Ramen." The answer came flat. Wesley stirred the noodles another slow circle before quietly adding, "...Hoping she'll eat something."

Everything inside Rhett stopped.

"...What?"

Wesley finally looked over. The exhaustion in his face hit Rhett harder than anything else could have.

"Dude..." Wesley sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. "I should've been checking her phone."

His eyes dropped toward the counter. "I didn't even think about it."

Rhett frowned. "Wes..."

"I'm sorry, Rhett," Wesley shook his head once. "I just... she's been so out of it."

Rhett took a step closer. "What do you mean?"

Wesley let out another long breath.

"...She made me promise not to let the moon into the house,” Wesley said, before pausing a moment. "...Then she cried because she thought I'd forget."

Rhett blinked. "...The moon?"

"...Yeah." Natalie lazily shifted across Wesley's shoulders as he rested both hands against the edge of the stove. "I told her I wouldn't."

Another pause. "She seemed satisfied."

Rhett stared at him for another beat before his confusion gave way to something much heavier.

"...What's wrong with her?"

Wesley swallowed. "I think she's got a fever or something."

Something cold settled in Rhett's stomach. "How long?"

Wesley didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the pot.

"...Almost two days."

The words barely rose above a whisper.

Rhett froze. "...Two?"

Wesley finally nodded.

"I thought it was just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs at first." He stirred the noodles again, though they were already done.

"I kept trying to get water in her."

Another slow stir.

"She won't drink."

He looked toward the hallway leading to your bedroom.

"Won't eat."

A humorless laugh escaped him.

"I got excited yesterday because I thought she ate half a cracker."

He shook his head.

"Turns out she just fell asleep with it in her hand and it broke off onto the couch."

Rhett's chest tightened.

"I tried getting her to urgent care. She told me no. I tried telling her I'd drive. Still, no. Then I asked if she'd at least take some medicine." Wesley shook his head again. "No. That’s all she said to me…” 

He finally looked back at Rhett.

"I can't exactly throw her over my shoulder and force her into my car." His voice cracked just enough for Rhett to notice. "I don't know what to do anymore."

For the first time since Rhett had walked into the house, Wesley looked less exhausted than frightened.

"I've just..." He looked down at the ramen. "...I've just been trying to get something in her."

The kitchen fell quiet. The noodles simmered softly on the stove.

Rhett looked toward the hallway. Then back at Wesley. Without another word… He turned and headed for your bedroom.

Rhett didn't bother knocking. He turned the handle and eased your bedroom door open.

The curtains were mostly drawn, leaving the room dim except for the thin strip of late afternoon sunlight spilling across the floor.

You were curled beneath the blanket, almost folded into yourself. One arm was tucked beneath your pillow. Your knees were drawn tightly toward your chest.

It wasn't a position Rhett had ever seen you sleep in before.

You looked...

Small.

Uncomfortable.

He quietly stepped inside, closing the door most of the way behind him.

The floor creaked.

Without opening your eyes, you let out a weak, tired groan.

"...Leave m'lone, Wes."

Rhett's heart sank.

He rounded the bed until he could finally see your face. Your cheeks were flushed. Loose strands of hair clung to your forehead. Even your breathing sounded different—slow and heavy, like every breath took more effort than it should.

He knelt beside the mattress.

"Darlin'..."

His voice was barely above a whisper. He reached up, brushing his knuckles gently across your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened.

For a second, your unfocused gaze searched his face in confusion.

Then you realized who it was.

"...Rhett?"

Your voice cracked.

Almost immediately, your eyes filled with tears.

"Oh..."

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

"Will you hold me?"

The question came out so quietly it nearly broke him.

Rhett's expression softened.

He glanced down at his dusty jeans, then back at you.

"I ain't showered yet, darlin'."

"I don't care."

Another tear rolled toward your ear.

"I really... don't care."

He held your gaze for another second before giving the smallest nod.

"...Alright."

He stood, walked around to the other side of the bed, and carefully climbed in behind you.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight.

A moment later, the warmth of his body settled against your back. One arm slid gently around your waist, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

Almost instinctively, you relaxed into him. The tension in your shoulders eased just enough for him to notice.

Rhett rested his chin lightly near the top of your head.

After a quiet moment, he spoke.

"...You ain't smotherin' Earle under all these blankets, are ya?"

Your lips twitched. Barely. "In... his cage."

"Okay, good." A tiny smile tugged at Rhett's mouth. "I figured he'd complain if he wasn't."

You let out the faintest sound that might've been a laugh. Or maybe just a tired breath.

Either way...

He was grateful to hear it.

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Then he froze.

His brow furrowed.

That...

That wasn't right.

He kissed your head again.

Longer this time.

The warmth was unmistakable.

His smile disappeared.

Slowly, he lifted the back of his hand to your forehead.

Hot.

He slid it carefully down to the side of your neck.

"...Hell."

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

You were burning up.

His jaw tightened.

Very carefully, he loosened his arm from around your waist.

"I'll be right back, darlin'."

You made a tiny, unhappy sound but didn't protest.

Rhett slipped out of the bed as gently as he'd climbed into it, pulling the blanket back around your shoulders before quietly leaving the room and easing the door nearly shut behind him.

Rhett crossed the hall and stepped into the bathroom.

Shower.

No tub.

He stared at it for a second, hoping he'd somehow missed something.

No. Just the walk-in shower.

"...Damn."

He turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

Wesley looked up the moment Rhett appeared.

"How is she?"

"She's burnin' up."

The words came quickly, but without panic.

Just certainty.

Rhett rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before asking,

"Y'all got a bathtub anywhere?"

Wesley blinked. "...Yeah?"

He pointed toward the opposite end of the house.

"My bathroom."

Rhett followed his finger with his eyes.

"She hates baths, though, Rhett."

"I know."

Wesley frowned. "...Then why?"

Rhett leaned one hand against the counter and softly sighed. "When my niece was little, she'd spike fevers now and then."

He glanced toward the hallway.

"My ma used to put her in a lukewarm bath."

"Lukewarm?"

"Mmhm."

"Not cold?"

Rhett shook his head.

"No."

He was much younger then, but he remembered it clearly.

His niece sitting beside the tub, looking half asleep. His mother checking the water with the inside of her wrist before helping his niece into it.

"It's supposed to help bring the fever down without shockin' your body."

Wesley listened intently.

"So..." Rhett looked back toward your bedroom again.

"I figure if she'll let me sit in there with her..."

His voice softened.

"...She might tolerate it."

Wesley nodded slowly.

"That..."

He looked relieved just to have something to try.

"...Actually sounds like a plan."

He pushed away from the stove.

"...Should I make suds?"

Rhett blinked.

"What?"

"You know..." Wesley mimed bubbles with both hands. "...Bubble bath?"

Despite everything, one corner of Rhett's mouth twitched.

"Nah. No soap."

"Oh."

"Just warm enough she won't shiver."

Wesley nodded once. "Got it."

Without another question, he headed down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Rhett listened as a faucet turned on a few seconds later. The sound of running water filled the quiet house.

He looked toward your bedroom door. Then toward Wesley's. Then back again.

He took a slow breath.

"Hang on, darlin'." Barely above a whisper. "I'm gonna get you feelin' a little better."

-

Rhett returned to your bedroom and found you exactly where he'd left you.

Curled beneath the blanket.

Eyes closed.

Breathing slow and heavy.

He crossed the room and knelt beside the bed again.

"Darlin'."

You stirred just enough to let him know you'd heard him.

He brushed another loose strand of hair away from your forehead.

"I'm gonna carry you into the bathroom, alright?"

A weak sound escaped you.

"No..."

"You don't have to walk."

Another tiny shake of your head.

"Tired..."

"I know." His voice stayed soft. "I've got you."

He slipped one arm beneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees.

You barely had the strength to protest as he lifted you from the bed.

The blanket slipped away.

Almost immediately, your arms folded into yourself.  Your face buried itself against the side of his neck, your warm cheek resting against his skin.

Rhett adjusted his grip instinctively.

"Easy..."

He could feel the heat radiating from you even through his shirt.

It made his stomach knot all over again.

He carried you down the hallway toward Wesley's room.

"Comin' in, Wes."

"Yeah." Wesley stepped out of the bathroom almost immediately. "The water's ready."

His voice stayed quiet, as though he was afraid speaking too loudly might somehow make things worse.

He looked from you to Rhett.

"I'll... uh..." His eyes flicked toward the dresser. "I'll grab some clean clothes for her."

"Appreciate it."

Wesley nodded once. Then, without another word, he slipped past you both and quietly pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, giving the two of you as much privacy as he could.

The bathroom settled into silence, broken only by the gentle sound of water.

Rhett lowered himself beside the tub, keeping one arm securely around you so you wouldn't lose your balance.

"You still with me?"

You gave the smallest nod.

"Good."

He spoke gently, never rushing you.

"I'm gonna help you into the water."

Rhett slowly undressed you. Everything he did was careful and practical, focused entirely on making sure you were comfortable and steady. Once you were ready, he eased you into the tub, supporting your weight until you were safely settled.

The water reached just above your waist.

For a moment, you shivered. A sharp, involuntary tremble ran through your shoulders.

Rhett immediately rested a reassuring hand against your upper arm.

"I know."

His thumb moved slowly back and forth.

"I know."

Another few seconds passed.

Then another.

Gradually...

The shivering eased. Your shoulders loosened. The tightness in your jaw softened. You let out a long, tired breath.

"There you go," Rhett murmured.

"That's my girl."

Your eyes stayed closed.

You didn't say anything.

You simply leaned back against the tub, looking more comfortable than you had since he'd walked into the house.

Rhett settled onto the floor beside you.

One arm rested across the edge of the bathtub while his other hand drifted up to gently smooth your damp hair away from your face.

His fingers moved slowly through it.

Unhurried.

Patient.

Every so often, he'd brush his knuckles across your temple before letting his hand settle again.

He didn't try to fill the silence.

Didn't tell you everything was going to be okay.

Didn't ask you any questions.

He simply stayed.

Waiting.

Giving the cool water time to do its work.

Giving you time to breathe.

-

The bathroom door opened softly a few minutes later.

Wesley stepped inside carrying an armful of things.

A loose T-shirt. A pair of shortie shorts. Fresh underwear folded neatly beneath them.

Balanced against his hip was a bowl of steaming ramen, and tucked beneath his arm was a light blue Gatorade.

"I, uh..." His voice stayed quiet. "Found some clothes."

Rhett looked up. "Thanks, man."

Wesley nodded and crossed the room, setting the bowl and bottle carefully on the closed toilet lid.

"I figured..." He shrugged. "If she'll eat anything, maybe it'll be this."

Rhett gave him a grateful smile.

"I appreciate it."

Wesley looked toward you for a long moment.

You hadn't opened your eyes.

You barely seemed aware he was there.

He swallowed.

"I'll... give y'all some space."

Without another word, he slipped back out of the bathroom, easing the door shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room again.

Only the occasional drip of water disturbed it.

Rhett reached for the Gatorade first. He twisted the cap off before setting it beside him.

Then he leaned a little closer.

"Darlin'."

Your brow pinched faintly.

His fingertips brushed your cheek.

"C'mon."

Your eyelids fluttered but didn't open.

"I need you to take a drink."

A tiny shake of your head.

"No..."

"Oh, baby..." His voice was as gentle as ever. "I wasn't askin'."

You let out the smallest, tired sigh.

Rhett tipped the bottle carefully toward your lips.

"Just a little."

The cool plastic touched your mouth.

After a moment's hesitation...

Your lips parted.

He only let a tiny amount in before pulling it away again.

"Good."

You held it in your mouth for a second. Swallowed.

Rhett smiled.

"Thank you." He leaned over and pressed a kiss against your temple. "That helps."

A minute passed, then he offered another small sip.

Again, you swallowed.

"Thank you, darlin'."

Another kiss.

Another quiet smile.

Satisfied you'd gotten a little something to drink, he reached for the ramen.

The noodles had already gone soft, but the broth was still warm.

He stirred it gently with the spoon before scooping up just enough liquid.

"This one's next."

You frowned.

"...No."

"I know."

He blew across the spoon once.

"Just the broth."

He held it patiently beneath your nose.

"It'll make you feel better."

After another long moment...

Your mouth opened.

Barely.

He eased the spoon in.

You hummed. A soft, sleepy sound.

The salty warmth sat on your tongue for a few seconds before you swallowed.

"There we go."

Another smile.

"Thank you."

He set the spoon down for a moment just to brush his thumb lightly across your cheek.

"So proud of you."

Several quiet minutes passed that way.

A sip of broth.

A pause.

A thank you.

A kiss against your temple.

No rushing.

No pressure.

Just tiny victories.

Eventually...

You stirred on your own.

Your eyelids slowly opened.

For a second, they wandered around the room before finally finding Rhett sitting beside the tub, one arm folded across the edge, his chin resting comfortably on it.

The moment he saw your eyes focused on him, his whole expression softened.

"...Hi." Your voice was hoarse. Barely more than a whisper.

A smile spread across Rhett's face.

"...Hi."

You looked at the bowl resting beside him.

Then back at him.

"You made me soup."

His smile widened.

"Wesley made the soup."

You frowned with the fierce concentration that only a fever could produce.

"...No."

Your fingertips lazily slapped at the bathwater, sending little splashes against the side of the tub.

"Me soup."

Rhett blinked.

"...Me soup?"

Another determined splash.

"Me soup."

He stared for another second before understanding finally dawned on him.

"Oh." A laugh escaped him. "You mean you're the soup."

You gave a tiny nod, as if that should have been obvious from the beginning.

"...Yeah."

Rhett laughed harder this time, shaking his head.

"I reckon I did."

The corners of your mouth lifted into the faintest smile.

It was small. Weak.

But it was the first real smile he'd seen from you all day.

He dipped the spoon back into the broth.

This time, when he held it out...

You opened your mouth before he even had to ask.

His smile turned impossibly softer.

"Thank you, darlin'."

Another spoonful.

Another.

Another.

By the time the broth was half gone, he realized he hadn't needed to coax you in several minutes. You simply opened your mouth each time the spoon came near, too tired to speak, but trusting him completely. And somehow, those tiny, quiet victories felt bigger than anything else that had happened all day.

Rhett waited another few minutes before setting the now nearly empty bowl aside.

He reached into the bath, resting the back of his hand against your forehead once more.

Still warm. But not nearly as hot.

He let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That's better."

You gave a sleepy hum in response.

Rhett smiled.

"It is."

He reached toward the drain and pulled the stopper free.

Water swirled quietly around you before disappearing beneath the tub.

You watched it for a moment through heavy eyelids.

By the time the last of it had drained away, Rhett was already reaching for the towel Wesley had left folded on the counter.

He opened it with a snap.

"C'mere."

He slid one arm carefully behind your back and another beneath your knees, helping you sit upright before wrapping the towel securely around your shoulders.

The air immediately made you shiver.

"I know."

His hand rubbed slow circles across your back through the towel.

"Almost done."

He lifted you from the tub as though you weighed nothing at all.

Your damp forehead found its way back against his shoulder almost instantly.

Rhett carried you the short distance to the closed toilet lid before setting you down carefully.

"Stay with me."

You nodded once. Barely.

He crouched in front of you with another dry corner of the towel and gently patted the remaining water from your arms, your legs, and your hair.

Nothing hurried. Nothing awkward.

Just quiet care.

Once you were dry enough, he helped you into the fresh clothes Wesley had picked out.

Clean underwear. Soft little shorts. An oversized T-shirt from Wesley’s collection that nearly swallowed you whole.

When he'd finished tugging the hem into place, he rested his hands lightly on your arms.

"Think you can walk?"

You looked down toward your feet.

They didn't seem very trustworthy.

After a long pause...

You slowly shook your head.

"Nuh-uh."

Rhett nodded.

"Alright."

Without another word, he slipped one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back again.

"Up we go."

You sighed against his chest, too exhausted to feel embarrassed.

As Rhett carried you into the living room, Wesley looked up from the recliner.

The second he saw you sitting upright in Rhett's arms...

His shoulders visibly dropped.

"Oh." It was almost a laugh.

"You look..." He blinked a couple times.

"...Way better."

You managed the tiniest smile.

Rhett settled you carefully onto the couch, making sure you were supported before stepping away.

"I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Wesley leaned a little closer.

"Hi."

"...Hi."

"You scared the hell outta me."

Your guilty expression answered before your voice could.

"...Sorry."

"It's okay." He smiled softly. "Just don't do it again."

A moment later, Rhett opened the pantry.

"Wes?"

"Yeah?"

"Where're the crackers?"

"Next to the canned soup."

Rhett found two open boxes and held one up in each hand.

"Darlin'."

He raised his voice just enough to reach the living room.

"Saltines or Club?"

You answered.

Quietly.

"...Club..."

Rhett frowned toward the hallway.

"What was that?"

Wesley didn't even look up.

"Club."

"Thanks."

A second later, Rhett returned carrying the box along with the blue Gatorade.

He sat beside you, unscrewing the cap before placing it in your hands.

"Little sip first."

You obeyed without argument this time.

Just one sip.

He smiled.

"Good."

Then he handed you a cracker.

You looked at it for a moment before taking the tiniest bite imaginable.

The crunch echoed through the otherwise quiet room.

You chewed.

Swallowed.

Took another sip of Gatorade.

Then another impossibly small bite.

Neither man said a word.

They simply watched.

Not because they were judging.

Because after two days...

Watching you willingly eat half a cracker felt like witnessing a miracle.

The tension that had been wrapped around the house since Rhett arrived began, little by little, to loosen.

Wesley leaned back into the chair with a long exhale.

Rhett rested one arm across the back cushions behind you.

You took another tiny bite.

Another sip.

Nobody hurried you.

Nobody asked anything of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever...

The house finally felt calm again.

Rhett watched you finish another bite of cracker.

Then another.

Small.

Slow.

But steady.

Satisfied, he reached over and took the cracker from your hand before you accidentally dropped it into your lap.

"You can finish the rest in a minute."

You nodded sleepily.

The Gatorade stayed loosely cradled between both of your hands.

Across the room, Wesley had settled back into the recliner, giving you and Rhett space without really thinking about it.

Rhett glanced over.

Then looked back at you.

You were trying very hard to stay awake.

Your head bobbed once.

Twice.

He smiled to himself.

Without saying a word, he caught Wesley's eye.

A small nod toward the empty cushion beside you.

Nothing more.

Wesley looked confused for all of half a second.

Then he understood.

"Oh."

He quietly stood, padded around the coffee table, and settled onto the other side of you.

The movement was so natural that you barely reacted.

Instead, almost instinctively, you shifted.

Your shoulder found Rhett's chest first.

Then, after another sleepy wiggle, you stretched your legs across Wesley's lap as though you'd done it a hundred times before.

Neither man commented.

Wesley simply adjusted until your legs rested comfortably. One hand came to rest against your shin.

His thumb rubbed slow, absentminded circles along your shin while his other hand unlocked his phone.

He started scrolling without really paying attention to what was on the screen.

Just...

Being there.

On your other side, Rhett settled a little deeper into the couch.

One arm rested comfortably along the back cushion behind you.

Every few minutes, almost without thinking, he'd lean over and press another soft kiss into your hair.

Sometimes the top of your head.

Sometimes your temple.

Each one lingering for just a second before he'd settle back again.

Outside, the evening sun slipped lower. The house grew quieter. The ramen dishes still sat forgotten in the bathroom.

The goats. The horse. Work.

Everything from earlier that day felt impossibly far away.

For several long minutes...

No one spoke.

The only sounds were Wesley lazily scrolling through videos with the volume muted, the occasional rustle of fabric as you shifted to get comfortable, and the gentle hum of the air conditioner.

You let your eyes drift closed again.

Not because you were slipping back into feverish sleep.

Just because...

You finally felt safe enough to rest.

After another minute, you spoke so softly that both men almost missed it.

"...Thanks, guys."

Neither of them answered right away.

Rhett simply turned his head and pressed another gentle kiss against your temple.

The kind that said everything he couldn't quite put into words.

Across from him, Wesley smiled. A tired one. But real.

Their eyes met over the top of your head.

Neither of them said a thing. There wasn't anything to say.

No competition.

No awkwardness.

No need to define what either of them meant to you.

They already knew.

Rhett loved you with the quiet certainty of someone building a future one ordinary day at a time.

Wesley loved you with the unwavering devotion of a best friend who would happily stir ramen for two days straight if it meant you might finally eat.

Different.

But no less real.

Their eyes held for another brief moment before both of them looked back at you.

Curled comfortably between them.

Finally starting to look like yourself again.

For tonight...

That was enough.

The horse held the expression, looking less intimidating than deeply offended by Rhett's continued existence.

"I ain't even done nothin' to you."

Another snort.

Rhett shook his head, already reaching into the back pocket of his jeans. He unlocked his phone, angled it over the fence, and snapped a quick picture just as the horse doubled down on his expression—ears back, teeth bared, eyes narrowed in dramatic suspicion.

Perfect.

A grin tugged at one corner of Rhett's mouth as he opened your text thread.

The conversation was already littered with photos of dogs he'd met on jobs, oddly-shaped vegetables from the garden, calves that refused to stay standing, and more goats than he cared to admit.

He attached the picture.

new guy doesnt like me too much. looks like Mr. Ed.

Rhett hit send before slipping the phone back into his pocket.

"You oughta be nicer," he told the horse.

The horse answered with another indignant snort.

Rhett chuckled to himself as he turned back toward the barn. He didn't bother checking for a reply. You always answered animal pictures.

Always.

-

A couple hours later, the afternoon sun hung lower in the sky, taking just enough of the edge off the Arizona heat to make it bearable.

Rhett settled himself on the top rail of a short weathered fence with his lunch balanced beside him.

A sleeve of crackers. A few slices of cheddar wrapped in wax paper. An apple.

Simple. Easy.

He'd barely gotten one cracker topped with cheese before the unmistakable sound of tiny hooves on packed dirt reached his ears.

He looked over.

"...Now don't y'all start."

Five goats stared back at him.

Six.

Seven.

Apparently, word had spread.

The smallest one trotted right up without a shred of shame, stretching its neck toward the cracker in Rhett's hand.

"No."

It took another step as Rhett moved his hand away.

"No."

Another.

"You got grass."

The goat blinked, then placed both front hooves against his knee.

Rhett let out a surprised laugh as another nudged against his boot while a third investigated the apple resting beside him.

"I ain't feedin' all of you."

One ambitious little goat somehow managed to wedge itself halfway into his lap, nose buried against his flannel in search of cheese.

"Oh, come on now."

He laughed again, steadying the little menace with one hand before it toppled backward off the fence.

"You don't know nothin' 'bout personal space."

The goat responded by trying to steal the cracker directly from his fingers.

Rhett shook his head, grinning despite himself.

"You're lucky you're cute."

With goats now surrounding him on nearly every side, he dug his phone out of his pocket again.

He held it out, making sure to fit himself and as many furry thieves into frame as he could.

Just as he pressed the button, the little goat in his lap stretched toward the cheese again, making the selfie even better.

He chuckled quietly as he opened your text thread.

Underneath the picture of the disgruntled horse from earlier, he attached the new photo.

these little assholes think my lunch belongs to them.

He hit send. Pocketed his phone. Finished his cracker.

Then, almost absentmindedly, pulled his phone back out.

The conversation sat exactly as he'd left it:

The horse. The goats. No little typing bubble. No heart reaction. No laughing emoji. No response.

His brow knit together for just a second.

"Hm."

He glanced at the time.

You were probably busy.

Maybe you were out with Wesley. Maybe you'd taken a nap. Maybe your phone had died.

There were a dozen perfectly ordinary explanations.

Rhett slipped the phone back into his pocket with a small shrug before breaking off another piece of cheese. The goats immediately resumed their campaign to convince him it belonged to them instead.

The last hour of the workday always seemed to crawl.

Rhett finished stacking a few empty feed bags in the storage shed before shutting the door behind him with the heel of his boot. He wiped the sweat from the back of his neck with his sleeve, rolled one shoulder, then reached into his pocket for his phone.

Still no notifications.

He frowned at the screen for a moment before opening your conversation.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard.

you okay?

He deleted it.

You were probably fine. Busy happens.

Instead, he smiled to himself and typed something lighter.

Wanna stay at my place tonight? Let Wes party with the snakes? :)

He hit send.

The message appeared beneath the others.

Horse.

Goats.

Sleepover.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and headed toward the barn to finish locking everything up for the evening.

-

About fifteen minutes later, with the last gate latched and the water troughs topped off, curiosity finally got the better of him.

He leaned against the side of his truck and pulled his phone back out.

Nothing.

No read receipts. No reaction. No reply.

Just three messages sitting there unanswered.

His brows drew together.

That...

That wasn't like you.

You answered animal pictures before you answered almost anybody else.

Even if all you sent back was a string of crying emojis or a dramatic declaration that you were stealing whichever creature he'd photographed, you answered.

Always.

Rhett stared at the screen for another few seconds.

"...C'mon, darlin'."

His thumb hovered over your name.

He wasn't much of a caller. Neither of you really were.

Most things could wait until one of you showed up at the other's place.

Still...

He pressed the call button.

The phone rang against his ear.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

His foot tapped absently against the gravel beneath him.

"C'mon..."

The ringing stopped.

Your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messag—

Rhett pulled the phone away before the message finished and ended the call.

For a long moment, he simply stood there beside his truck, staring at the dark screen in his hand.

A knot tightened low in his stomach.

You hadn't answered a single text. You hadn't answered your phone.

And suddenly...

None of the ordinary explanations felt quite so convincing anymore. So, Rhett climbed into his truck and shut the door. The familiar thunk echoed through the cab before settling into silence. He rested both hands on the steering wheel for a second.

She's probably fine.

He started the engine. The truck rumbled to life beneath him as he pulled out onto the dusty road leading away from the ranch.

For the first mile, he kept trying to convince himself there was nothing to worry about.

Maybe you'd left your phone at home.

Maybe it'd died.

Maybe you and Wesley had gone somewhere.

Maybe you'd fallen asleep.

You deserved a lazy afternoon every once in a while.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel.

Except...

You always answered animal pictures.

Even hours later.

Even if it was just—

LOOK AT HIM

—or—

please tell that goat i said hi.

His jaw tightened.

Maybe...

Maybe he'd done something.

He replayed the other evening in his head.

Dinner.

Watching television.

You'd laughed at something Wesley had said.

Rhett had laughed too.

Had he gotten quiet afterward?

Too quiet?

Had he seemed irritated?

He frowned.

He hadn't meant to if he had.

His thumb rubbed absentmindedly across the worn leather wrapped around the steering wheel.

Maybe Wesley had said something.

Not on purpose.

Lord knew Wesley could accidentally step in it sometimes.

Maybe there'd been some misunderstanding.

Maybe… Hopefully?

His stomach tightened.

Maybe somebody from Wyoming had found a way to reach you.

The thought settled over him like a weight.

A letter.

A phone call.

Somebody from town.

Somebody asking questions that ought to stay buried.

He swallowed.

No.

You would've told him.

Wouldn't you?

...Wouldn't you?

His grip tightened again.

Another possibility shoved its way in.

One of the snakes?

Natalie?

Earle?

Had something happened again?

You loved those little weirdos more than just about anything.

If one of them got hurt...

You'd be beside yourself.

He shook his head.

No.

Wesley would've called.

Unless...

Unless Wesley was busy helping you.

The thought hit him so suddenly it almost made him miss his turn.

She's sick.

Maybe that was it.

Maybe she'd been asleep all day.

Maybe she'd caught something.

Maybe she...

His pulse picked up.

She's hurt.

His foot pressed a little harder on the gas without him realizing.

By the time the familiar neighborhood came into view, every possibility had tangled together into one ugly knot sitting squarely in the middle of his chest.

He turned onto your street.

Your house appeared toward the end of the block exactly where it always was.

Perfectly normal.

Perfectly still.

He pulled into the driveway and shifted into park. The truck fell quiet.

Rhett didn't move. His hands were still wrapped around the steering wheel.

Only now...

He noticed they weren't steady.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

"She's okay," he murmured to the empty cab, as much to convince himself as anyone else.

Then he reached into the center console for the spare key you'd insisted he keep months ago.

His fingers closed around it.

He climbed out of the truck.

By the time he reached your front door...

His heart was pounding hard enough that he could feel it in his throat.

Rhett slid the key into the lock with hands that were steadier than he felt. The deadbolt clicked. He pushed the door open.

"Hello?"

The house was quiet.

Not silent.

Quiet.

The low hum of the air conditioner.

The faint clink of a spoon against metal.

And...

Something smelled savory.

Instantly recognizable.

Soup.

Rhett stepped inside, closing the door behind him before slipping off his boots.

"...Wes?"

"In here."

The voice came from the kitchen.

Rhett rounded the corner.

Wesley stood at the stove, slowly stirring a pot of noodles.

Natalie was draped loosely around his shoulders like a living scarf, her head lazily resting against his chest.

Normally, Wesley would've greeted him with some ridiculous comment. Probably something about being underdressed for a snake dinner party.

Instead...

Nothing.

His hair stuck out in every direction. Dark circles sat beneath his eyes. His T-shirt looked like he'd slept in it. Maybe more than once.

He didn't even look up immediately.

Rhett studied him for a second.

"What you makin'?"

"...Ramen." The answer came flat. Wesley stirred the noodles another slow circle before quietly adding, "...Hoping she'll eat something."

Everything inside Rhett stopped.

"...What?"

Wesley finally looked over. The exhaustion in his face hit Rhett harder than anything else could have.

"Dude..." Wesley sighed, rubbing one hand over his face. "I should've been checking her phone."

His eyes dropped toward the counter. "I didn't even think about it."

Rhett frowned. "Wes..."

"I'm sorry, Rhett," Wesley shook his head once. "I just... she's been so out of it."

Rhett took a step closer. "What do you mean?"

Wesley let out another long breath.

"...She made me promise not to let the moon into the house,” Wesley said, before pausing a moment. "...Then she cried because she thought I'd forget."

Rhett blinked. "...The moon?"

"...Yeah." Natalie lazily shifted across Wesley's shoulders as he rested both hands against the edge of the stove. "I told her I wouldn't."

Another pause. "She seemed satisfied."

Rhett stared at him for another beat before his confusion gave way to something much heavier.

"...What's wrong with her?"

Wesley swallowed. "I think she's got a fever or something."

Something cold settled in Rhett's stomach. "How long?"

Wesley didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the pot.

"...Almost two days."

The words barely rose above a whisper.

Rhett froze. "...Two?"

Wesley finally nodded.

"I thought it was just one of those twenty-four-hour bugs at first." He stirred the noodles again, though they were already done.

"I kept trying to get water in her."

Another slow stir.

"She won't drink."

He looked toward the hallway leading to your bedroom.

"Won't eat."

A humorless laugh escaped him.

"I got excited yesterday because I thought she ate half a cracker."

He shook his head.

"Turns out she just fell asleep with it in her hand and it broke off onto the couch."

Rhett's chest tightened.

"I tried getting her to urgent care. She told me no. I tried telling her I'd drive. Still, no. Then I asked if she'd at least take some medicine." Wesley shook his head again. "No. That’s all she said to me…” 

He finally looked back at Rhett.

"I can't exactly throw her over my shoulder and force her into my car." His voice cracked just enough for Rhett to notice. "I don't know what to do anymore."

For the first time since Rhett had walked into the house, Wesley looked less exhausted than frightened.

"I've just..." He looked down at the ramen. "...I've just been trying to get something in her."

The kitchen fell quiet. The noodles simmered softly on the stove.

Rhett looked toward the hallway. Then back at Wesley. Without another word… He turned and headed for your bedroom.

Rhett didn't bother knocking. He turned the handle and eased your bedroom door open.

The curtains were mostly drawn, leaving the room dim except for the thin strip of late afternoon sunlight spilling across the floor.

You were curled beneath the blanket, almost folded into yourself. One arm was tucked beneath your pillow. Your knees were drawn tightly toward your chest.

It wasn't a position Rhett had ever seen you sleep in before.

You looked...

Small.

Uncomfortable.

He quietly stepped inside, closing the door most of the way behind him.

The floor creaked.

Without opening your eyes, you let out a weak, tired groan.

"...Leave m'lone, Wes."

Rhett's heart sank.

He rounded the bed until he could finally see your face. Your cheeks were flushed. Loose strands of hair clung to your forehead. Even your breathing sounded different—slow and heavy, like every breath took more effort than it should.

He knelt beside the mattress.

"Darlin'..."

His voice was barely above a whisper. He reached up, brushing his knuckles gently across your cheek.

Your eyelids fluttered. Slowly, they opened.

For a second, your unfocused gaze searched his face in confusion.

Then you realized who it was.

"...Rhett?"

Your voice cracked.

Almost immediately, your eyes filled with tears.

"Oh..."

The first tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

"Will you hold me?"

The question came out so quietly it nearly broke him.

Rhett's expression softened.

He glanced down at his dusty jeans, then back at you.

"I ain't showered yet, darlin'."

"I don't care."

Another tear rolled toward your ear.

"I really... don't care."

He held your gaze for another second before giving the smallest nod.

"...Alright."

He stood, walked around to the other side of the bed, and carefully climbed in behind you.

The mattress dipped beneath his weight.

A moment later, the warmth of his body settled against your back. One arm slid gently around your waist, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

Almost instinctively, you relaxed into him. The tension in your shoulders eased just enough for him to notice.

Rhett rested his chin lightly near the top of your head.

After a quiet moment, he spoke.

"...You ain't smotherin' Earle under all these blankets, are ya?"

Your lips twitched. Barely. "In... his cage."

"Okay, good." A tiny smile tugged at Rhett's mouth. "I figured he'd complain if he wasn't."

You let out the faintest sound that might've been a laugh. Or maybe just a tired breath.

Either way...

He was grateful to hear it.

He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

Then he froze.

His brow furrowed.

That...

That wasn't right.

He kissed your head again.

Longer this time.

The warmth was unmistakable.

His smile disappeared.

Slowly, he lifted the back of his hand to your forehead.

Hot.

He slid it carefully down to the side of your neck.

"...Hell."

The word slipped out before he could stop it.

You were burning up.

His jaw tightened.

Very carefully, he loosened his arm from around your waist.

"I'll be right back, darlin'."

You made a tiny, unhappy sound but didn't protest.

Rhett slipped out of the bed as gently as he'd climbed into it, pulling the blanket back around your shoulders before quietly leaving the room and easing the door nearly shut behind him.

Rhett crossed the hall and stepped into the bathroom.

Shower.

No tub.

He stared at it for a second, hoping he'd somehow missed something.

No. Just the walk-in shower.

"...Damn."

He turned and headed back toward the kitchen.

Wesley looked up the moment Rhett appeared.

"How is she?"

"She's burnin' up."

The words came quickly, but without panic.

Just certainty.

Rhett rubbed a hand across the back of his neck before asking,

"Y'all got a bathtub anywhere?"

Wesley blinked. "...Yeah?"

He pointed toward the opposite end of the house.

"My bathroom."

Rhett followed his finger with his eyes.

"She hates baths, though, Rhett."

"I know."

Wesley frowned. "...Then why?"

Rhett leaned one hand against the counter and softly sighed. "When my niece was little, she'd spike fevers now and then."

He glanced toward the hallway.

"My ma used to put her in a lukewarm bath."

"Lukewarm?"

"Mmhm."

"Not cold?"

Rhett shook his head.

"No."

He was much younger then, but he remembered it clearly.

His niece sitting beside the tub, looking half asleep. His mother checking the water with the inside of her wrist before helping his niece into it.

"It's supposed to help bring the fever down without shockin' your body."

Wesley listened intently.

"So..." Rhett looked back toward your bedroom again.

"I figure if she'll let me sit in there with her..."

His voice softened.

"...She might tolerate it."

Wesley nodded slowly.

"That..."

He looked relieved just to have something to try.

"...Actually sounds like a plan."

He pushed away from the stove.

"...Should I make suds?"

Rhett blinked.

"What?"

"You know..." Wesley mimed bubbles with both hands. "...Bubble bath?"

Despite everything, one corner of Rhett's mouth twitched.

"Nah. No soap."

"Oh."

"Just warm enough she won't shiver."

Wesley nodded once. "Got it."

Without another question, he headed down the hallway toward his bedroom.

Rhett listened as a faucet turned on a few seconds later. The sound of running water filled the quiet house.

He looked toward your bedroom door. Then toward Wesley's. Then back again.

He took a slow breath.

"Hang on, darlin'." Barely above a whisper. "I'm gonna get you feelin' a little better."

-

Rhett returned to your bedroom and found you exactly where he'd left you.

Curled beneath the blanket.

Eyes closed.

Breathing slow and heavy.

He crossed the room and knelt beside the bed again.

"Darlin'."

You stirred just enough to let him know you'd heard him.

He brushed another loose strand of hair away from your forehead.

"I'm gonna carry you into the bathroom, alright?"

A weak sound escaped you.

"No..."

"You don't have to walk."

Another tiny shake of your head.

"Tired..."

"I know." His voice stayed soft. "I've got you."

He slipped one arm beneath your shoulders and the other beneath your knees.

You barely had the strength to protest as he lifted you from the bed.

The blanket slipped away.

Almost immediately, your arms folded into yourself.  Your face buried itself against the side of his neck, your warm cheek resting against his skin.

Rhett adjusted his grip instinctively.

"Easy..."

He could feel the heat radiating from you even through his shirt.

It made his stomach knot all over again.

He carried you down the hallway toward Wesley's room.

"Comin' in, Wes."

"Yeah." Wesley stepped out of the bathroom almost immediately. "The water's ready."

His voice stayed quiet, as though he was afraid speaking too loudly might somehow make things worse.

He looked from you to Rhett.

"I'll... uh..." His eyes flicked toward the dresser. "I'll grab some clean clothes for her."

"Appreciate it."

Wesley nodded once. Then, without another word, he slipped past you both and quietly pulled the bedroom door closed behind him, giving the two of you as much privacy as he could.

The bathroom settled into silence, broken only by the gentle sound of water.

Rhett lowered himself beside the tub, keeping one arm securely around you so you wouldn't lose your balance.

"You still with me?"

You gave the smallest nod.

"Good."

He spoke gently, never rushing you.

"I'm gonna help you into the water."

Rhett slowly undressed you. Everything he did was careful and practical, focused entirely on making sure you were comfortable and steady. Once you were ready, he eased you into the tub, supporting your weight until you were safely settled.

The water reached just above your waist.

For a moment, you shivered. A sharp, involuntary tremble ran through your shoulders.

Rhett immediately rested a reassuring hand against your upper arm.

"I know."

His thumb moved slowly back and forth.

"I know."

Another few seconds passed.

Then another.

Gradually...

The shivering eased. Your shoulders loosened. The tightness in your jaw softened. You let out a long, tired breath.

"There you go," Rhett murmured.

"That's my girl."

Your eyes stayed closed.

You didn't say anything.

You simply leaned back against the tub, looking more comfortable than you had since he'd walked into the house.

Rhett settled onto the floor beside you.

One arm rested across the edge of the bathtub while his other hand drifted up to gently smooth your damp hair away from your face.

His fingers moved slowly through it.

Unhurried.

Patient.

Every so often, he'd brush his knuckles across your temple before letting his hand settle again.

He didn't try to fill the silence.

Didn't tell you everything was going to be okay.

Didn't ask you any questions.

He simply stayed.

Waiting.

Giving the cool water time to do its work.

Giving you time to breathe.

-

The bathroom door opened softly a few minutes later.

Wesley stepped inside carrying an armful of things.

A loose T-shirt. A pair of shortie shorts. Fresh underwear folded neatly beneath them.

Balanced against his hip was a bowl of steaming ramen, and tucked beneath his arm was a light blue Gatorade.

"I, uh..." His voice stayed quiet. "Found some clothes."

Rhett looked up. "Thanks, man."

Wesley nodded and crossed the room, setting the bowl and bottle carefully on the closed toilet lid.

"I figured..." He shrugged. "If she'll eat anything, maybe it'll be this."

Rhett gave him a grateful smile.

"I appreciate it."

Wesley looked toward you for a long moment.

You hadn't opened your eyes.

You barely seemed aware he was there.

He swallowed.

"I'll... give y'all some space."

Without another word, he slipped back out of the bathroom, easing the door shut behind him.

Silence settled over the room again.

Only the occasional drip of water disturbed it.

Rhett reached for the Gatorade first. He twisted the cap off before setting it beside him.

Then he leaned a little closer.

"Darlin'."

Your brow pinched faintly.

His fingertips brushed your cheek.

"C'mon."

Your eyelids fluttered but didn't open.

"I need you to take a drink."

A tiny shake of your head.

"No..."

"Oh, baby..." His voice was as gentle as ever. "I wasn't askin'."

You let out the smallest, tired sigh.

Rhett tipped the bottle carefully toward your lips.

"Just a little."

The cool plastic touched your mouth.

After a moment's hesitation...

Your lips parted.

He only let a tiny amount in before pulling it away again.

"Good."

You held it in your mouth for a second. Swallowed.

Rhett smiled.

"Thank you." He leaned over and pressed a kiss against your temple. "That helps."

A minute passed, then he offered another small sip.

Again, you swallowed.

"Thank you, darlin'."

Another kiss.

Another quiet smile.

Satisfied you'd gotten a little something to drink, he reached for the ramen.

The noodles had already gone soft, but the broth was still warm.

He stirred it gently with the spoon before scooping up just enough liquid.

"This one's next."

You frowned.

"...No."

"I know."

He blew across the spoon once.

"Just the broth."

He held it patiently beneath your nose.

"It'll make you feel better."

After another long moment...

Your mouth opened.

Barely.

He eased the spoon in.

You hummed. A soft, sleepy sound.

The salty warmth sat on your tongue for a few seconds before you swallowed.

"There we go."

Another smile.

"Thank you."

He set the spoon down for a moment just to brush his thumb lightly across your cheek.

"So proud of you."

Several quiet minutes passed that way.

A sip of broth.

A pause.

A thank you.

A kiss against your temple.

No rushing.

No pressure.

Just tiny victories.

Eventually...

You stirred on your own.

Your eyelids slowly opened.

For a second, they wandered around the room before finally finding Rhett sitting beside the tub, one arm folded across the edge, his chin resting comfortably on it.

The moment he saw your eyes focused on him, his whole expression softened.

"...Hi." Your voice was hoarse. Barely more than a whisper.

A smile spread across Rhett's face.

"...Hi."

You looked at the bowl resting beside him.

Then back at him.

"You made me soup."

His smile widened.

"Wesley made the soup."

You frowned with the fierce concentration that only a fever could produce.

"...No."

Your fingertips lazily slapped at the bathwater, sending little splashes against the side of the tub.

"Me soup."

Rhett blinked.

"...Me soup?"

Another determined splash.

"Me soup."

He stared for another second before understanding finally dawned on him.

"Oh." A laugh escaped him. "You mean you're the soup."

You gave a tiny nod, as if that should have been obvious from the beginning.

"...Yeah."

Rhett laughed harder this time, shaking his head.

"I reckon I did."

The corners of your mouth lifted into the faintest smile.

It was small. Weak.

But it was the first real smile he'd seen from you all day.

He dipped the spoon back into the broth.

This time, when he held it out...

You opened your mouth before he even had to ask.

His smile turned impossibly softer.

"Thank you, darlin'."

Another spoonful.

Another.

Another.

By the time the broth was half gone, he realized he hadn't needed to coax you in several minutes. You simply opened your mouth each time the spoon came near, too tired to speak, but trusting him completely. And somehow, those tiny, quiet victories felt bigger than anything else that had happened all day.

Rhett waited another few minutes before setting the now nearly empty bowl aside.

He reached into the bath, resting the back of his hand against your forehead once more.

Still warm. But not nearly as hot.

He let out a slow breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"That's better."

You gave a sleepy hum in response.

Rhett smiled.

"It is."

He reached toward the drain and pulled the stopper free.

Water swirled quietly around you before disappearing beneath the tub.

You watched it for a moment through heavy eyelids.

By the time the last of it had drained away, Rhett was already reaching for the towel Wesley had left folded on the counter.

He opened it with a snap.

"C'mere."

He slid one arm carefully behind your back and another beneath your knees, helping you sit upright before wrapping the towel securely around your shoulders.

The air immediately made you shiver.

"I know."

His hand rubbed slow circles across your back through the towel.

"Almost done."

He lifted you from the tub as though you weighed nothing at all.

Your damp forehead found its way back against his shoulder almost instantly.

Rhett carried you the short distance to the closed toilet lid before setting you down carefully.

"Stay with me."

You nodded once. Barely.

He crouched in front of you with another dry corner of the towel and gently patted the remaining water from your arms, your legs, and your hair.

Nothing hurried. Nothing awkward.

Just quiet care.

Once you were dry enough, he helped you into the fresh clothes Wesley had picked out.

Clean underwear. Soft little shorts. An oversized T-shirt from Wesley’s collection that nearly swallowed you whole.

When he'd finished tugging the hem into place, he rested his hands lightly on your arms.

"Think you can walk?"

You looked down toward your feet.

They didn't seem very trustworthy.

After a long pause...

You slowly shook your head.

"Nuh-uh."

Rhett nodded.

"Alright."

Without another word, he slipped one arm beneath your knees and the other behind your back again.

"Up we go."

You sighed against his chest, too exhausted to feel embarrassed.

As Rhett carried you into the living room, Wesley looked up from the recliner.

The second he saw you sitting upright in Rhett's arms...

His shoulders visibly dropped.

"Oh." It was almost a laugh.

"You look..." He blinked a couple times.

"...Way better."

You managed the tiniest smile.

Rhett settled you carefully onto the couch, making sure you were supported before stepping away.

"I'll be right back."

He disappeared into the kitchen.

Wesley leaned a little closer.

"Hi."

"...Hi."

"You scared the hell outta me."

Your guilty expression answered before your voice could.

"...Sorry."

"It's okay." He smiled softly. "Just don't do it again."

A moment later, Rhett opened the pantry.

"Wes?"

"Yeah?"

"Where're the crackers?"

"Next to the canned soup."

Rhett found two open boxes and held one up in each hand.

"Darlin'."

He raised his voice just enough to reach the living room.

"Saltines or Club?"

You answered.

Quietly.

"...Club..."

Rhett frowned toward the hallway.

"What was that?"

Wesley didn't even look up.

"Club."

"Thanks."

A second later, Rhett returned carrying the box along with the blue Gatorade.

He sat beside you, unscrewing the cap before placing it in your hands.

"Little sip first."

You obeyed without argument this time.

Just one sip.

He smiled.

"Good."

Then he handed you a cracker.

You looked at it for a moment before taking the tiniest bite imaginable.

The crunch echoed through the otherwise quiet room.

You chewed.

Swallowed.

Took another sip of Gatorade.

Then another impossibly small bite.

Neither man said a word.

They simply watched.

Not because they were judging.

Because after two days...

Watching you willingly eat half a cracker felt like witnessing a miracle.

The tension that had been wrapped around the house since Rhett arrived began, little by little, to loosen.

Wesley leaned back into the chair with a long exhale.

Rhett rested one arm across the back cushions behind you.

You took another tiny bite.

Another sip.

Nobody hurried you.

Nobody asked anything of you.

For the first time in what felt like forever...

The house finally felt calm again.

Rhett watched you finish another bite of cracker.

Then another.

Small.

Slow.

But steady.

Satisfied, he reached over and took the cracker from your hand before you accidentally dropped it into your lap.

"You can finish the rest in a minute."

You nodded sleepily.

The Gatorade stayed loosely cradled between both of your hands.

Across the room, Wesley had settled back into the recliner, giving you and Rhett space without really thinking about it.

Rhett glanced over.

Then looked back at you.

You were trying very hard to stay awake.

Your head bobbed once.

Twice.

He smiled to himself.

Without saying a word, he caught Wesley's eye.

A small nod toward the empty cushion beside you.

Nothing more.

Wesley looked confused for all of half a second.

Then he understood.

"Oh."

He quietly stood, padded around the coffee table, and settled onto the other side of you.

The movement was so natural that you barely reacted.

Instead, almost instinctively, you shifted.

Your shoulder found Rhett's chest first.

Then, after another sleepy wiggle, you stretched your legs across Wesley's lap as though you'd done it a hundred times before.

Neither man commented.

Wesley simply adjusted until your legs rested comfortably. One hand came to rest against your shin.

His thumb rubbed slow, absentminded circles along your shin while his other hand unlocked his phone.

He started scrolling without really paying attention to what was on the screen.

Just...

Being there.

On your other side, Rhett settled a little deeper into the couch.

One arm rested comfortably along the back cushion behind you.

Every few minutes, almost without thinking, he'd lean over and press another soft kiss into your hair.

Sometimes the top of your head.

Sometimes your temple.

Each one lingering for just a second before he'd settle back again.

Outside, the evening sun slipped lower. The house grew quieter. The ramen dishes still sat forgotten in the bathroom.

The goats. The horse. Work.

Everything from earlier that day felt impossibly far away.

For several long minutes...

No one spoke.

The only sounds were Wesley lazily scrolling through videos with the volume muted, the occasional rustle of fabric as you shifted to get comfortable, and the gentle hum of the air conditioner.

You let your eyes drift closed again.

Not because you were slipping back into feverish sleep.

Just because...

You finally felt safe enough to rest.

After another minute, you spoke so softly that both men almost missed it.

"...Thanks, guys."

Neither of them answered right away.

Rhett simply turned his head and pressed another gentle kiss against your temple.

The kind that said everything he couldn't quite put into words.

Across from him, Wesley smiled. A tired one. But real.

Their eyes met over the top of your head.

Neither of them said a thing. There wasn't anything to say.

No competition.

No awkwardness.

No need to define what either of them meant to you.

They already knew.

Rhett loved you with the quiet certainty of someone building a future one ordinary day at a time.

Wesley loved you with the unwavering devotion of a best friend who would happily stir ramen for two days straight if it meant you might finally eat.

Different.

But no less real.

Their eyes held for another brief moment before both of them looked back at you.

Curled comfortably between them.

Finally starting to look like yourself again.

For tonight...

That was enough.