#john dutton

"he's been kicking like a boy, and i've got the skin to show it's a boy. i've always imagined that i'd be a boy mom," you answered with a shrug, leaning into his embrace comfortably. "and we've already got tate. i think it'll be another boy."

and he'd been alright with that. he let you have your dreams of what to name him and how you'd have him and tate match in little cowboy outfits. you even omitted the gender reveal in favor of it being a surprise, but also because you were so certain it was a boy.

but, when that little girl came out, you both were in instant happy tears.

kayce held her first due to some complications during birth, and he suddenly remembered the joy that came with being a father. as he stared down at his baby girl with eyes that matched his, he was flooded with a certain protectiveness that didn't come with tate. this was his little girl - nobody was going to mess with her.

to say she was spoiled by her daddy was an understatement. there wasn't a day that he didn't come home with a new handful of wildflowers, one for each of his girls, and sit on the floor having her explain all her little drawings to him. when tate would mess with her, teasing as a good older brother would, kayce would give him a stern shake of his head, holding her close to his chest as she sniffled.

"she ain't a boy, bud," he told him. "i know she's your sister and you wanna tease her, but you gotta treat her like a lady."

"i just wanna make her laugh," tate defended.

"find another way, okay pal? there's a million ways to make her laugh and only a few to make her cry. let's figure that out, alright?" he said, pulling the boy into his side for a hug. tate looked at his sister, thinking for a moment before making a funny face, sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes as he pulled his mouth at a funny angle. she burst into a fit of giggles, kayce high-fiving him as she clambered out of his lap to go play with her older brother.

you had to be the one to teach her to rope and ride, ensuring she had the true makings of a cowgirl because kayce did not want that life for her. he hoped that she wouldn't ever end up with a cowboy. but, once she knew how to ride well enough, he'd take her on long rides with him and tate, explaining the beauties of montana to them both.

he first bought her a dress from a little boutique in town and a matching bow to go with it when she was five, beyond excited to dress her in it and take her out on a daddy daughter date. you took tate on a mommy son date that same night, smiling as you saw your husband and daughter eating ice cream through the store window as tate dragged you to the theater down the street.

kayce stayed protective, but supportive of what she wanted - except for when she started getting cutesy around the newest ranch hand rip had let stick around, a kid called carter. kayce nipped that one in the bud real fast.

he thrived as a father, it was his true calling, with both tate and your little girl. having both felt like his life had equalled out and he ensured they had a close bond as well. kayce isn't a girl dad or a boy dad, he's just a dad, and he loves it.

rip wheeler:

rip would never admit it, but whenever he imagined finding a girl, settling down, and starting a family, it was always filled with daughters. it was easy to assume that he'd want all boys - he was one of the most manly men montana had ever seen. but, with that, he felt a need to have girls to protect, to be strong for.

so when that first baby ended up a girl, he was silently ecstatic.

"baby, it's a girl," he mumbled to you, his smile the widest you'd seen it since your wedding day.

he was so supportive during labor, petting your hair out of your face as you squeezed his hand tightly. when your little girl finally started crying, he took her straight from the doctor and set her on your chest, one hand on your arm and the other on the baby's back.

he watched over the both of y'all carefully. it was obvious to everyone that you were his number one priorities, and if anyone so much as mentioned your names with the wrong tone he was ready to fight.

rip started taking her out on rides as soon as she was able to be strapped to his chest and sit on a horse without crying, which was actually awfully early. you told him it was only because she was his daughter that he was able to do this, but they both loved it. she was an expert rider by the time she was eight years old, and a good roper too.

you had two twin girls after her, both absolutely adored by rip and their older sister. you were able to go on family rides at that point, you and rip with each one of the littles in front of you and your oldest perched behind rip with wide wondering eyes.

"daddy, an eagle!" she cheered, pointing over his shoulder at a bald eagle flying over the trees.

"good eye, baby," rip said, smiling as he high-fived the little girl.

she quickly became his right hand man. even at four years old, she was grabbing him a banana for breakfast before he headed out the door or helping him clean his boots. the older she got, the more responsibility she got, which was fine by her. she was strong and determined and a total daddy's girl.

until she became a brother's girl.

carter showed up when she was seven and she fell in love with him quickly. he was sweet with her, carrying her on his back out to the barn as she helped him shovel stalls the best she could.

rip didn't know how to feel about it until you finally approached him about adopting carter.

"it wouldn't be anything official since neither of y'all have any documentation or anything," you told him, fiddling with your fingers. "but, that boy needs a home. and rip, i really love him, and so does she, and so do you. we've got one extra room and a place at the table. i want him here. you've seen him with our baby girl, he wants to be a part of this family too. please, rip."

and so that was that. after you sat the boy down and told him, he became even more dependable. he was an avid protector of your daughter and rip actually began smiling at the sight of the two of them walking around the ranch.

rip didn't love carter the same way he loved his baby girl, he was always meant to be a girl dad, but he appreciated him nonetheless. the way he was with rip's daughters helped secure him in the little wheeler family, and rip was happy about it.

ryan:

ryan was in no way prepared to be a father. when you told him you were pregnant he about shat himself.

"but we used protection," he said, eyes wide as he paced the bunkhouse.

"well, quite obviously it didn't work," you said. you grabbed his arms. "ryan, hun, it'll be okay. okay? it'll all work out, we'll figure it out."

"i don't have anything for you. i can't do anything for you. i don't have a house for myself, i barely have my own truck, i make enough to live but i don't know how to provide for you," he stressed.

"we'll figure it out," you emphasized again, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly.

and you did. with how long ryan had been working on the yellowstone ranch and how close your family was to the duttons (how you'd met ryan, actually), john gave you space in the main house to take care of you new little girl - heavens knew there was enough room, he barely even noticed you were there. he, himself, was kind of obsessed with the idea of having another pseudo grandchild, and ryan was convinced that was the only reason he worked it all out for y'all.

ryan was a nervous father. he was uber careful, keeping constant eyes on the baby or whoever was holding her. ninety percent of the time, that person was himself. he barely even let colby hold her and he cursed out jimmy when he asked, saying how he wasn't about to let that dumbass, brain-injured, bronco-riding klutz of a rodeo star hold his precious baby girl and drop her on her head just like his parents had done to him, obviously.

everyone had a good laugh about that one.

your little girl wasn't around the horses or cows, or even a damn rope for so much of her life, but what she was around was poker. ryan had her in his lap as they played cards since she was a month old and not sleeping through the night. somehow, impeccably, she went down without a fuss after sitting through a few games of cards with her father and his friends.

when she got a bit older, he taught her all his favorite childhood card games, but she got bored of them. when you first walked in on him explaining poker to her, you about smacked him upside the head, but when you saw her smiling and figuring out the order of the cards you let it slide.

"she'll be cheatin' out the rest of us in no time," ryan said, running a hand over her hair as he smiled up at you.

"whatever you say, cowboy," you sighed, sitting next to her and picking at the chips he'd laid out for her.

for her tenth birthday, he threw her a poker party with the rest of the wranglers, the duttons, tate, and carter, with ibc rootbeers in a cooler to make her feel just as cool as the rest of them. it was the first time she'd played with anyone but her parents, and she was stoked.

she smoked their asses.

they were freaking flabbergasted, even ryan. he pressed a kiss to her head, laughing as he congratulated her. "that's my kid, everybody."

lee dutton:

lee never wanted kids.

he knew it, you knew it, john knew it, hell, the whole family knew it. it was never in his plan.

but, you also weren't in his plan. he'd had a perfectly organized idea of being the forever bachelor of the yellowstone, hitting up bars for quick girls when he wanted a makeout or one night stand or whatever, and then returning to life on the ranch.

well, you showed up, a horse trainer from the sixes, travis wheatley's little sister, and he fell in love so fast he almost tripped over his feet. he rushed into dating you, proposing, and marrying you but no one in montana had any complaints, except for maybe your father, but he was in texas so it didn't matter in the long run. and he also, accidentally, rushed into getting you pregnant, which was not the goal at all.

"i know, and i'm sorry, but i'm keeping it, baby," you'd told him the night he found the test. you held his face in your hands, brows furrowed. "i want this. i hope you can understand that."

"i never wanted kids," he told you, shaking his head and breathing out a deep sigh. "but, uh, with you? with you, i'm not so opposed." he looked up at you, mustering a small, almost scared smile. "hell, we're already here, ain't we? let's fuckin do this thing, baby."

"language, lee," you laughed.

his mind was blown when you gave birth, absolutely scared and amazed out of his mind when the nurse handed over this perfect, slightly messy, bundle of pink blankets screaming bloody murder to him as they cleaned you up.

"holy shit," he muttered, staring down at his daughter with wide eyes.

"language, lee," you groaned, sitting up and reaching out for the baby. he handed her to you immediately, watching the both of you carefully.

his world changed that day.

as soon as you were ready to let her out of the house, he took her everywhere with him, and he was not ashamed about it. the strap-on baby carrier was his best friend as he walked around the house, grabbing her nursing bottles before heading out to the barn. john laughed when he saw him the first time.

"and what the hell are you doing? you can't cowboy with a baby, lee," he told his eldest.

"watch me," was his answer.

you didn't know he was doing all this, only being told that he'd take her out while you got some rest or did whatever you needed to get done. it was nice to have little breaks throughout the day, but you worried if she was hungry. well, until you saw the little bottle holster he'd made himself that he kept strapped to his side.

you almost thought it was ridiculous, but it was the best possible outcome you could've hoped for, so you let him take her out every few days.

that girl was practically a cowboy by the time she was five years old. she knew all the terms, had her own boots, was dressed in the same wranglers and carhartts as her dad and grandpa, and always was begging for a horse. she wasn't allowed quite yet, but lee promised her she'd get one eventually.

he took her out hunting with him basically her whole life, teaching her the sacredness and also the practicality of it. she became obsessed with guns when she was eight, something you became especially worried about. you made him put extra locks on each case and then on the safe, the fear of her getting into them eating you alive. she complained about not being able to get a tag until she was twelve, but you thanked the state for it.

lee, of course, found a workaround where she began shooting bucks as big as the bed of his truck when she was only ten because it was on the dutton property - who was going to know? if she could love him anymore than she already did, she definitely did after that.

you kept it to the one kid, knowing she was all lee could really handle. and you were both happy to have her be the center of your worlds. and as much as some traditional montanans might argue that dutton ranch's succession should be male, anyone who met your daughter knew that that little ten year old was as much a cowboy as anyone on the ranch, following in the large footsteps of her grandpa and father with exactness.

jimmy:

jimmy was ecstatic when he learned you were pregnant, as nervous as it made him too. everything in his life was starting to work out; he'd figured out his dream job - to be a horse trainer, he had a good job, y'all had just gotten married, and he bought his first house right by the sixes.

"this is perfect," he told you, kissing your forehead as he smile widely. "everything is so perfect now, darlin'."

when you learned it was a girl that day at the doctor's office, he was even more ecstatic.

"our little cowgirl," you told him as he pulled you into his side.

"our little cowgirl," he nodded, a certain proud smile on his lips as he thought about what it'd be like raising a little cowgirl as a real cowboy now himself.

now that he had money, and good money too, he let himself go out and buy the baby all sorts of things, from cow printed blankets to little stuffed horses. you laughed when he came home one day with tiny little baby boots.

he put them on her as soon as she'd grown enough to give him the chance. he held her hands as he walked her around the room, the small girl bouncing a bit as she situated in her boots.

"i know they're kinda funny, hun," he hummed to her as she walked with him. "but, they're actually the best sort of shoe. you're gonna love 'em."

his favorite part of the day had always been coming home to you, but it was even better now that he had two people to come home to. and she loved her daddy, babbling with that big baby smile as she crawled to him. he'd always scoop her up into his arms and give her a big kiss on the cheek before walking through the rest of the house to find you.

he told her stories about the yellowstone ranch when he tucked her into bed, her favorite black and white spotted stuffed horse in her arms as she gazed up at him with a smile and big hazel eyes that mirrored his own.

when she got older, you started bringing her down to the arena to show her what exactly her daddy did. at that point, he was on travis' main team of show horse trainers, and he was happy to show off for his wife and little girl. she was always excited to watch him, hanging off the fence with a wide grin as you stood behind her, waving at your husband just as travis yelled at him to get back to work. it was the first time jimmy had ever really talked back to him, yelling not to curse when his daughter was around. travis never did it again and began to show off for the eight year old when she was around too.

she was spunky, way spunkier than jimmy was ready for and sassier than he ever had been. "she gets this from you."

when she went to travis asking for her own horse and better lessons, her brows raised and arms crossed over her chest, jimmy nearly had a heart attack. he dismounted his horse, crossing to his daughter but not making it before travis responded.

"what do i get if i do? horses aren't free, you know."

"a new trainer," she answered, nodding at him firmly. "i've seen y'all do this my whole life. i've rode my whole life. just gimme a shot."

at the ripe age of ten, she'd managed to convince travis wheaton to give her a horse, let her dad teach her, and the opportunity to stay on as she trained. travis laughed when he passed jimmy, shaking his head. "i hate to break it to you, but she ain't your kid, jimmy."

jimmy breathed a sigh of relief before he pulled her up onto his horse, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

"you've really got to talk to me about things like that before you just do it," he said. "that's my boss, you know that?"

"he ain't my boss," she laughed, kissing her dad on the cheek.

spencer dutton:

spencer had always wanted kids. and ever since he met you he knew he wanted to have them with you. but, life as a hunter in africa was dangerous enough as it is that you both agreed to wait.

life had other plans.

well, you weren't exactly careful, for one, and for two birth control was iffy, so you should've seen it coming sooner or later. it probably should've been later, but what the hell.

he decided that was the right time to quit being a predator hunter then and did what he could to get you both back to montana, hopefully before you popped. you didn't argue - you wanted to be home when you had your baby too. he took excellent care of you on each ship, each town, and on the train west, ensuring you always had water and foods that didn't make you want to throw up, being a constant pillow for when your body decided it needed a nap, and paying for the most comfortable accommodations the different vessels had.

you didn't know the gender of the baby until after you had her. you were exhausted, but spencer had been right by your side the whole way through, smoothing your hair back and cooling you down with a wet cloth as cara coached you through it.

the look on his face when cara exclaimed it was a girl was one you would never forget; a mixture between love, adoration, and excitement, and fear, protectiveness, and anxiety.

he coddled that baby girl. every night, he spent hours cooing to her as he rocked in the rocking chair his father had built when he was just a baby. he told her stories about cowboying and africa, sang her lullabies cara used to sing to him, and never missed an opportunity to kiss her sweet chubby cheeks.

"you're so good with her," you mumbled to him one night as you sat on his lap in the chair, head tucked into his neck as he held you in one arm and the baby in the other. "how do you do it?"

"i don't know," he whispered, glancing at you with a gentle smile before you both returned your gazes to your daughter. "loving her comes as easily to me as loving you. it's as natural as anything i've ever felt."

"so it's just instinct that helps you calm her in any situation?" you asked.

"well, i can't calm her in every situation," he said with a quiet chuckle. "you've got the only solution sometimes. but, yeah. i guess in other ways it is."

then things got worse with whitfield and the ranch. she was older then, about six, and spencer made sure she knew to never go anywhere alone, to scream for help if she ever saw anyone she didn't know on the ranch (because she knew and adored literally every cowboy working for jacob), and to run. fast.

and she was fast. like, surprisingly fast. she took great pleasure in challenging spencer and jack and jacob to races. spencer and jack always pretended to let her win, and so did jacob, but after he got shot she actually did start to win. when he was told to walk around to get better, she thought she would be encouraging by walking right by his side a little faster than he was able to. it did actually get him moving quicker, but cara was constantly rolling her eyes as she did it.

when she got older, of course spencer taught her how to shoot and hunt.

"this is what daddy did before you were born, princess," he told her as he helped her line up the sight to the target.

"kill things?" she asked, raising her brows. you laughed as you sat to the side, watching in amusement.

he cleared his throat, his brows furrowing a bit. "well, i mean, yes, but i was protecting people from animals that wanted to hurt them. and other times getting food for the family."

"so, do i have to get food for the family now?" she asked, looking down at the gun. he laughed.

"you don't have to, no," he reassured. "i just wanted to show you. it's something i love to do, and something to protect you. that's why mama knows."

"mama knows?"

"yes, i do, baby," you chimed in with a smile. "he showed me back when we were just teenagers. he's a lot better than me though, so you listen to him."

"can we shoot something real next time?" she asked, glancing back at spencer.

"maybe not next time, but when you get enough practice in then yeah," he answered.

"when is that?"

she had a lot of questions. and she always asked them. but, spencer was as even kiln as ever, so patient when he responded to her and made sure her curious little mind found the answers it needed.

but, whenever you thought of spencer as a father, there was always one night that came to mind. she was probably four and it was way past her bedtime. y'all had put her to sleep maybe ten times before she finally stayed in her room and you left to hopefully get some rest.

except spencer turned on the radio. you'd just gotten it the day before and were so excited about it and when he flicked it on, some slow, country tune was playing through it. he took you in his arms then, holding you close to his chest with his lips on your temple, swaying you both gentle along to the tune.

you were smiling the whole time, letting him twirl you once before bringing you in close again. only a few minutes into your impromptu slow dancing, your door was pushed open and in walked your toddler.

there was no shouting or frustrated demand for her to go back to sleep, even though that was very tempting given your last hundred tries to have her do just that. instead, spencer pressed a kiss to your head and twirled you out of his arms as he moved to scoop her up instead. he held her up with one arm, his other holding her hand as he spun slowly in circles.

"if i let you dance with mommy and me will you stay in bed?" he said, raising his brows as he met the eyes that matched his. she giggled, nodding as he kissed her cheek. "okay, then let's dance baby."

you leaned up against the bed frame, watching them with crossed arms and a smile as the music played through the small radio. he met your eyes and his smile grew, slowly spinning his way over to you. releasing your daughter's hand, he took yours instead and pulled you in close. his hand moved to your waist and soon you had your arms wrapped around him and your baby girl as he held her between you, swaying slowly.

as the song ended, he twirled you and then spun himself to earn a giggle from the toddler before setting her down and taking her small hand to give her a twirl as well.

your heart was so full in that moment. when he returned from tucking her in for the (hopefully) last time, you kissed him slowly, pulling away with a soft smile.

"you're a good dad, spencer," you told him. he shrugged, pulling you back in to hold you in a gentle embrace.

"you're a good mom. you make it easy for me."

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“You’re here early,” he says.

You glance over your shoulder, holding the cloth in your hand. “Someone has to be.”

There’s a hint of a smile in your voice, but you keep it small. Professional.

Kayce leans against the doorway, watching you in that quiet way he always does—not invasive, just… observant.

“You don’t have to do all this alone,” he says.

You shrug, turning back to your work. “It’s my job.”

“Still.”

You pause for just a second before continuing, like his words almost got through.

Days turn into a rhythm.

You come in early. You leave before things get too loud. You keep your head down, your work clean, your distance clear.

But Kayce…

He keeps finding reasons to be around.

“You missed a spot,” he says one morning, pointing lazily at a perfectly clean table.

You narrow your eyes slightly. “Did I?”

He walks over, dragging his finger across it… then holds it up.

Clean.

You cross your arms. “Very funny.”

A small smirk tugs at his mouth. “Had to make sure you were paying attention.”

“I always am,” you reply.

And something about the way you say it makes the moment linger a little longer than it should.

The flirting starts small.

You’re in the kitchen, drying dishes, when he leans against the counter—closer than usual.

“Y’know,” Kayce says casually, “you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

You glance at him. “How?”

He nods toward the spotless kitchen. “Place has never looked this good.”

You smirk a little. “Sounds like a you problem.”

He huffs a quiet laugh, eyes staying on you longer than they should.

“Maybe,” he says. “Or maybe I just need to keep you around.”

Your hands pause for just a second on the towel.

“That part’s not up to you.”

Kayce tilts his head slightly, studying you.

“Doesn’t mean I can’t try.”

Your heart does something you don’t quite like—because it’s noticeable.

A few days later, it gets harder to ignore.

You’re outside this time, hanging a line of freshly washed cloths, when you feel him before you see him.

“Thought you only worked inside,” he says.

You don’t turn right away. “I do what needs to be done.”

“Yeah,” he replies, stepping closer, “I’ve noticed that about you.”

You glance back at him, the corner of your mouth lifting slightly. “You notice a lot.”

“Only things worth noticing.”

There it is again—that look.

Steady. Intent.

Too much and not enough all at once.

You turn back to your work, but your focus isn’t the same.

That evening, a storm rolls in.

The sky darkens fast, thunder echoing across the land. You’re finishing up in the kitchen when the lights flicker—and then go out.

You freeze for a second.

Then—

“It’s alright,” Kayce’s voice comes from the doorway.

You exhale, tension you didn’t realize you were holding slipping away.

“Just the storm,” he adds, stepping closer.

“I should probably head out,” you say, even though you don’t move.

“Not in this, you’re not.”

You turn—and your breath catches slightly.

John Dutton stands there, steady and unmoving.

“I don’t want to be a bother, sir—”

“You’re not,” John says calmly. He glances at the rain hitting the windows. “Storm like this washes roads out. You won’t make it far.”

You hesitate. “I can try—”

“No.”

Simple. Final.

“You stay the night,” he adds.

“…Yes, sir,” you say quietly.

He nods once and leaves.

The room feels different after he does.

Kayce exhales softly. “That’s him being nice.”

You glance at him. “I figured.”

Later, the rain is steady, the house dim with only candlelight.

You’re leaning against the counter when Kayce steps closer again—closer than he has before.

“So,” he says, voice low, “since you’re stuck here…”

You raise a brow. “Stuck?”

“Yeah,” he says, a hint of a smirk forming. “Figure I should make the most of it.”

You cross your arms slightly, trying to ignore the way your pulse picks up. “And what exactly does that mean?”

He looks at you for a second—really looks at you.

Then—

“I wanna take you out.”

The words land heavier than you expect.

You blink. “Out… where?”

Kayce shrugs a little. “Somewhere that’s not you working and me pretending I don’t watch you work.”

Your breath catches—just slightly.

“That’s what you’ve been doing?” you ask.

“Pretty much,” he admits, not even trying to hide it.

You shake your head, a small laugh slipping out. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Not a no,” he points out.

You hesitate.

Because it would be easier to say no.

Safer.

But—

“…It’s not a yes either,” you reply.

Kayce steps just a little closer, his voice softer now.

“Alright,” he says. “Then let me ask it the right way.”

Your heart pounds a little louder.

“Go ahead.”

He tilts his head, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through.

“Will you go on a date with me?” he asks. “No cleaning. No pretending this is just a job.”

For a moment, the storm, the house, everything else fades.

It’s just him.

Waiting.

You swallow lightly.

“…One date,” you say.

Kayce’s smile grows, just enough to see it.

“I’ll take it.”

~

It’s not what you expected.

No fancy restaurant. No big plan.

Just Kayce pulling up in his truck, leaning over to open the passenger door like it matters.

“You clean up nice,” he says, looking at you in a way that makes your stomach flip.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t hide your smile. “Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late,” he replies.

He drives you out past the ranch, further than you’ve ever been.

The land stretches endlessly, the sky turning soft shades of orange and purple as the sun starts to dip.

When he finally stops, it’s quiet.

Just open land. A blanket in the back of the truck. A small cooler.

You raise a brow. “This your idea of a date?”

Kayce shrugs, a little sheepish. “Figured you spend enough time inside working. Thought I’d give you something different.”

You hesitate… then smile.

“It’s perfect.”

That seems to catch him off guard.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You sit side by side in the back of the truck, legs dangling, sharing a quiet conversation that feels… easy.

Too easy.

“You don’t talk much when you’re working,” Kayce says.

“I’m not there to talk.”

“Shame,” he replies. “I like hearing you.”

You glance at him, caught off guard.

“You flirt like that with everyone?” you ask.

“No,” he says simply. “Just you.”

Your heart skips.

The conversation shifts slowly, naturally… until it doesn’t.

Until it lands somewhere heavier.

Kayce leans back on his hands, eyes drifting out across the land.

“I was married,” he says.

You glance at him. “Was?”

He nods once.

“To Monica Dutton.”

You’ve heard the name before. Around the ranch. In passing.

But this is different.

This is him telling you.

“What happened?” you ask softly.

Kayce exhales, slow.

“Life,” he says at first. Then shakes his head. “No… that’s too easy.”

He runs a hand over the back of his neck, like the words don’t come naturally.

“I loved her,” he says. “Still do, in a way.”

That should sting more than it does.

Because of how honest he is.

“But sometimes love isn’t enough to make two people stay in the same place,” he continues. “We kept pulling in different directions. Ranch. Family. Everything.”

You stay quiet, letting him speak.

“I tried to be who she needed,” he says. “But I kept ending up back here. And she… she needed something different.”

There’s no anger in his voice.

Just truth.

“That doesn’t make her the bad guy,” he adds. “Or me.”

You nod slowly. “Just means it wasn’t right anymore.”

He glances at you, something soft in his expression.

“Yeah,” he says. “Exactly.”

A quiet settles between you—but it’s not uncomfortable.

It’s real.

“Why tell me that?” you ask after a moment.

Kayce looks at you fully now.

“Because if I’m gonna do this,” he says, voice steady, “I’m not doing it halfway.”

Your breath catches.

“This?” you ask.

He leans just slightly closer.

“You,” he says.

The air feels different now.

Closer.

Warmer.

You swallow lightly. “You barely know me.”

Kayce smiles a little. “I know enough.”

“That I clean your house?”

“That you care about things that aren’t yours,” he says. “That you don’t run from hard work. That you try to stay invisible… even when you shouldn’t.”

Your heart pounds.

“That’s a lot to figure out from watching someone clean,” you say quietly.

He tilts his head.

“I’ve been paying attention.”

Silence falls again—but this time, it’s charged.

Intentional.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he adds.

“What question?”

He leans in just a little more.

“Whether this was just one date…”

Your breath catches.

“…or if I get another.”

You look at him—really look at him.

At the honesty. The patience. The way he’s not pushing… but he’s not backing down either.

“…You might,” you say.

Kayce smirks slightly. “I’ll take ‘might.’”

By the time he drives you back to the ranch, the stars are out again.

Everything looks the same.

But nothing feels the same.

Because this time—

When you step out of the truck…

You don’t feel like you’re just the girl who cleans the house.

And when Kayce looks at you—

He doesn’t see you that way either.

~

Its a few days later when Kayce’s voice stirs you from your cleaning…

“You ever been to the county fair?” Kayce Dutton asks one morning, watching you from the doorway while you dust the shelves.

You glance at him. “Not in a long time.”

He nods like he expected that. “Then you’re going.”

You pause. “That didn’t sound like a question.”

“It wasn’t.”

You try to fight the smile pulling at your lips. “I have work.”

“I’ll talk to my dad,” he says simply.

Your eyes narrow slightly. “You’d do that?”

“For you?” he replies, shrugging. “Yeah.”

Your heart does that thing again.

“…Fine,” you say. “But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

Kayce smirks. “You won’t be.”

By the time you get there, the sun is starting to dip, painting everything in warm gold.

Lights flicker on across the fairgrounds. Music drifts through the air. Laughter, voices, the smell of fried food and sugar—it’s loud, crowded… alive.

You glance around, taking it all in.

“This is… a lot,” you admit.

Kayce watches you, not the fair.

“You alright?” he asks.

You nod slowly. “Yeah. I just forgot what this feels like.”

He steps a little closer. “Then we’ll take it slow.”

You don’t.

Not really.

Because before long, he’s pulling you toward a game booth.

“Pick something,” he says.

You cross your arms. “Why?”

“Because I’m gonna win it.”

You laugh softly. “Confident.”

“Always.”

You point at a stuffed animal hanging from the top. “That one.”

Kayce glances at it, then back at you. “That’s the hardest one.”

You shrug. “Then I guess you’re in trouble.”

He huffs a quiet laugh—and then actually focuses.

It takes him a couple tries.

But when he finally wins it, he hands it to you without hesitation.

“Told you,” he says.

You take it, smiling more than you meant to. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “You should be.”

Later, you’re walking side by side through the crowd, your shoulders brushing every so often.

Neither of you moves away.

“You hungry?” he asks.

“When am I not?” you reply.

Kayce smirks. “Good answer.”

He comes back with food—nothing fancy, just fair food, messy and warm.

You sit together on a bench, sharing it, laughing when you inevitably get powdered sugar everywhere.

“You’re not very graceful,” he says.

“You’re the one who handed me this,” you shoot back.

“Still your fault.”

The night settles in deeper, lights glowing brighter now.

Music plays somewhere nearby—slow, steady.

Kayce glances toward it… then back at you.

“C’mon.”

You frown slightly. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Before you can argue, he takes your hand.

And this time—

It feels natural.

He leads you to a small open space where a few couples are dancing.

Nothing big. Nothing formal.

Just people swaying under string lights.

You hesitate. “Kayce…”

“Relax,” he says softly. “It’s just a dance.”

“I don’t dance.”

He steps closer, one hand settling lightly at your waist.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “You do.”

Your breath catches slightly.

Because now you are.

You move slowly, unsure at first—but he guides you without making it obvious.

His hand is steady.

Warm.

“You’re staring,” you say quietly.

“Can you blame me?” he replies.

You roll your eyes—but your grip on him tightens just a little.

After a while, the world fades again.

It’s just him.

Just this.

And for once—

You’re not thinking about leaving.

The night settles in deeper.

Lights glow brighter. Music drifts more slowly now.

Kayce glances toward a quieter part of the fairgrounds—away from the crowd, where the noise softens, and the lights feel warmer.

“C’mon,” he says, gently taking your hand.

This time—

You don’t hesitate.

He leads you past the noise, toward the edge where things feel calmer. A Ferris wheel turns slowly nearby, casting soft light over everything.

You stop walking.

“So this was the plan?” you ask quietly.

Kayce shakes his head. “Didn’t really have one.”

You smile slightly. “That checks out.”

The air shifts.

He steps closer.

Not rushed. Not forced.

Just enough that you feel it.

Your breath catches as his eyes drop briefly to your lips… then back to your eyes.

“You gonna pull away?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head, just barely.

“No.”

That’s all it takes.

Kayce closes the distance slowly, giving you time—giving you the choice.

And when his hand gently comes up to rest at your waist, steady and warm—

You lean in.

The kiss is soft at first.

Careful.

Like neither of you wants to break the moment.

But then it deepens just slightly—not rushed, just real. Like everything unspoken between you, you finally found a way out.

Your fingers curl lightly into his shirt.

And for a second—

Nothing else exists.

Not the lights.

Not the music.

Just him.

When you finally pull back, it’s slow.

Reluctant.

Kayce rests his forehead lightly against yours, his breath still close.

“Yeah…” he murmurs quietly. “Definitely worth bringing you.”

You let out a soft laugh, your heart still racing.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Yeah,” he says, a faint smile in his voice. “But you kissed me anyway.”

You shake your head, but you don’t step away.

Later that night, back at the ranch, the quiet feels different.

Softer.

Like something has settled into place.

You step outside under the stars.

And like always—

He’s there.

“You had fun,” Kayce says.

“Maybe.”

“That’s as good as I’m getting?”

“For now.”

~

A few days pass before it happens.

Days where nothing changes—and everything does.

You still wake up early. Still clean the house like you always have. Still keep your distance… at least, you try to.

But now—

There are looks.

Longer ones.

Small touches that linger just a second too long.

And conversations that don’t feel like just passing time anymore.

It’s late when it finally happens.

The ranch is quiet, the kind of quiet that settles in after a long day. The sky is clear, stretched wide with stars that seem brighter the longer you look at them.

You step outside for air.

And he’s already there.

Kayce Dutton leans against the fence, like he knew you’d come.

“You always find me out here,” you say softly.

He glances over, a small smile forming. “Or maybe you always find me.”

You roll your eyes a little, but you walk over anyway.

That part’s not a choice anymore.

You stand beside him, close—but not quite touching.

Not yet.

“You been avoiding me?” he asks after a moment.

You scoff lightly. “I see you every day.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

You glance at him, caught.

“…Maybe a little.”

He nods like he expected that.

“Why?”

You hesitate.

Because the truth feels a little too big to say out loud.

“Because this…” you gesture faintly between you, “…isn’t simple.”

“No,” he agrees quietly. “It’s not.”

The air feels different now.

He’s closer than he’s ever been.

And for the first time… neither of you pulls away.

Kayce studies your face like he’s trying to memorize it.

“You should know something,” he says quietly.

Your heart pounds. “What?”

He hesitates—just for a second.

Not because he’s unsure.

Because it matters.

“I don’t play games,” he says. “I don’t start things I don’t mean.”

Your chest tightens.

“I can tell,” you whisper.

He nods slightly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And I know this is fast,” he continues. “I know I don’t know everything about you yet.”

He pauses.

“But I know how I feel when I’m around you.”

Your breath catches.

“And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

The world feels very, very still.

Then—

Kayce reaches for your hand, slow enough that you could pull away if you wanted to.

You don’t.

His fingers wrap around yours, warm, steady.

“I’m yours…” he says quietly, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

Your heart skips.

“…if you’ll have me.”

The words settle between you like something fragile.

Real.

You stare at him, searching his face for anything uncertain.

You don’t find it.

Just honesty.

Just him.

Your fingers tighten slightly around his.

“You don’t make this easy,” you whisper.

A small smile touches his lips. “Wasn’t trying to.”

You shake your head, a soft breath leaving you.

“…I don’t want easy.”

Kayce’s eyes soften.

“Good,” he says.

The stars stretch endlessly above you, the night quiet and full.

And for the first time since you stepped onto this ranch…

You don’t feel like you’re just passing through.

Because this time—

"You look awfully young to be out this late." A familiar voice interrupts your thoughts. You turn to see John Dutton standing behind you. Black cowboy hat planted atop his greyed hair, his face still as handsome as the first time you'd laid eyes on him some years ago.

"I'm old enough sir." You reply and he laughs. "You want to join me? Gets awfully lonely drinking on your own."

"Sure, let's sit at a booth." He says and you eagerly follow him.

It didn't take you long to realise that John didn't remember you at all, after saying your name you looked for an ounce of recognition in his eyes but found nothing. But why would he? He had four children to look after, he didn't have the time to meet all of their friends so your slight offence soon went away when he ordered another round to your table.

He introduced himself properly and you shook his hand like it was the first time meeting him. A part of you wanted to interrupt him and explain that you already knew him as you'd met years ago but you stopped yourself. It would make things a little awkward wouldn't it?

"I'll tell him later." You thought to yourself as you took a mouthful of the fruity gin that was brought to your table moments ago. "Of course I'll tell him." You thought as his fingers rested on yours 10 minutes later atop the sticky table of the booth. "Ok I'll tell him now." You thought when two hours of laughter and flirting went by and the bell rang for closing time. John held his arm out for you to take as he lead you to his truck, he opens the passenger door for you and playfully taps your ass as you climb in.

"Where you staying?" He asked when he turned the truck on.

"Motel down the road, got a room there for a few nights whilst I visit my friend."

"Maybe I shouldn't tell him." You thought when his rough palm rested atop your bare thigh as he drove, your legs parting ever so slightly in reaction to the touch. If it weren't for the alcohol in your system his presence alone could intoxicate you. With his rough voice and equally rough hands you felt your underwear dampen as John pulled into the motel car park.

Stepping out of the truck he wasted no time in rounding the vehicle and opening your door, holding a hand out for you to hold onto as you jumped down, your legs almost gave way underneath you as your feet hit the cold concrete below but John was quick to steady you. In the short walk from the truck to your motel door you'd decided to confess everything to your friend's dad. Standing with your back to the door after unlocking it you open your mouth to speak. "John I-" The overdue confession was interrupted by a kiss and just like that all regard for doing the right thing was thrown out the window.

Johns lips felt just like you'd imagined. His kiss was rough but his lips were soft. Carefully but quickly he moved you backwards, through the motel door and continued pushing until your legs hit the edge of the old bed frame. You both stopped and John turned, you thought for a second he was leaving but instead he closed the motel room door and locked it before returning to you. Slowly, Johns hands traced up your spine to the zipper that held your dress taut and he pulls the metal down, goosebumps prick your skin as the fabric falls off your body and gathers around your feet.

You're bare against him. The only thing covering you now is a lacy thong and your boots. "I feel a little under-dressed here Mr Dutton." You say dropping down onto the hard mattress.

He laughs, a deep but hushed laughter that makes you blush. With zero hesitation John removes his shirt, discards his boots and undoes his belt, letting his jeans drop alongside your dress. Despite his age he was still in incredible shape, strong arms and shoulders from years of heavy lifting, a broad chest speckled with hair and scars and strong thighs that painted muscle throughout years of horse riding.

"Let me get these off for you darlin." He says dropping to one knee and taking hold of your right ankle. Slowly, he slid the boot off your foot, kissing your knee as he did so and then moved to your other foot where he repeated the action.

Once freed from your boots you shimmy up to the top of the bed until you're led against the uncomfortable pillows situated there. John follows you and positioned himself between your spread thighs, his bulge pressing down onto your clothed pussy. His lips meet yours again in a hungry kiss and you feel his cock twitch against you when you run your fingers through his hair.

Pulling away from your lips John kissed down your neck to your chest where he latched his mouth around one nipple. A hand that was previously resting on your waist moved down into your underwear where he caressed your cunt before pushing two fingers into your sopping hole.

"Nice and wet for me aren't you baby?" He says pulling himself from your tit, voice aged and gravely from years of smoking, drinking and shouting.

"All for you Mr Dutton." You reply and he moans.

John continues to kiss down your body until his face settles between your thighs. Effortlessly he pulls your underwear off you and dives face first into your pussy letting out a soft hum as he does. You're caught off guard, you'd half expected John to be the type of man to go straight to fucking but this was a pleasant surprise. He lapped at your cunt, tongue diving this way and that like he was trying to commit the shape to memory and you were loving it.

He'd already made you cum once and by the time he sucked on your clit again you were clawing at the bedsheets and wriggling around under him trying to move. "John, please." You whined and he laughed. Finally he stopped his torment and flicked your clit once more with his tongue before moving back up the bed. His boxers had been discarded now but you had no clue when he'd took them off.

With zero hesitation and precise aim built from years of experience John sheathed his cock inside of you, your gasp was stifled by his mouth pressing against yours. You could taste your cum on his lips and tongue as he kissed you though you barely had time to savour the taste as John began pounding his cock into you.

"Fuck." You sighed in ecstasy. You'd thought that maybe because of his age you would be doing most of the work but John proved you wrong. With your legs perched on his shoulders his balls slapped against your arse as he pummelled into you, snapping his hips in a fierce rhythm chasing his release which was approaching quickly.

In another quick motion John dropped your legs from his shoulder and before you could protest he flipped you both around so he was on his back and you were straddling him. "You good at riding baby?" He asked, voice low and accompanied with straggled breaths.

"The best you'll ever have." You replied and immediately got to work with swirling your hips and grinding on his cock. The curled mass of his pubic hair tickled your clit as you rode him and you moved your hands to find purchase on his thighs behind you, head rolled back and tits bouncing you were a sight to behold. John stared at you and forgot for a moment that your tight cunt was milking his cock, the way the light in the shitty metal room shone on you made you look angelic.

John shook himself out of his haze and landed a firm slap to one of your tits. You brought your head forwards and peered down at him. You lowered your face towards him and John took the opportunity to bring you closer to him. Your forehead was pressed to his as he gripped your waist and began to buck his hips upwards, his cock hitting that sweet spot with every single deep thrust.

With one final thrust John came deep inside of you. He wasn't quick enough to pull out but thankfully you'd remained on birth control after your breakup. "So good darlin'." He says with a grunt and gives your thigh a little tap to indicate it was time to get off him.

Your legs ached but you managed to throw yourself down to the empty space next to him on the bed. You didn't want to assume that John would spend the night though when he climbed off the bed and began to put his clothes back on you couldn't help but feel a little hurt at his lack of aftercare. "Sorry to leave you so soon darlin' but I've got a busy day tomorrow." He explains after seemingly sensing your hurt.

You accept his explanation and throw on a dressing gown to cover yourself as you walk him to the door. With one final kiss to your forehead John leaves the motel room with a soft smile resting on his face. "I'll look forward to bumping into you again John." You say testing the waters slightly.

"I have a feeling you'll come find me before you leave." He smirks. With that John steps to his truck and you close the door. His scent mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol is plaguing the room. You should shower, but your feet are already pulling you to the bed and before you have the chance to fight back you're under the covers and drifting off to sleep. Dreams of John Dutton infesting your mind.

Fortunately it wasn't the pounding of a headache that woke you up in the morning. Unfortunately however it was the persistent buzzing of your phone on the crappy bedside table. Deice edging closer to the ridge of the wooden surface. Without checking you pick the phone up and press it to your ear.

"Hey you're finally awake, my dad's hosting a meal tonight, would you like to join?"

It's Jamie. His question makes you sit right up so fast the room spins slightly. "Oh, no thanks Jamie, I've got other plans." You stammer out an unconvincing reply.

"No you don't." He laughs. "He's not as grumpy as he used to be so you're coming, I'll pick you up at 6."

"Ok." You mutter softly. With a lump in your throat dropped your phone onto the bedside table and sank back into the pillows. Your head is taken over by thoughts of regret as you think back to the hours you shared under the assumption that he didn't know who you were and now you felt guilty. Guilty at the fact that you knew him all this time and still fucked him on the grotty motel bed that now had your suitcase rested on it.

You stayed in that position for the majority of the day until 4pm rolled around and you were forced to get out of bed by another call from Jamie reminding you of the dinner. You took a shower and picked out a nice dress, one that hid as much as possible but still showed off your natural curves, ones that John had run his rough hands over some hours ago. Your phone pinged and you heard the beep of a car horn outside. Taking a few more deep breaths you plucked up what little courage you had left and stepped out of the room with your bag, tucking your phone into the side pocket as you walked down the steps to the car park.

"You seem nervous." Jamie says, eyes fixed on the road.

"I am, been a while since I've seen your family."

"You'll be fine, if any of them give you a hard time just give me a nudge." His reassurance didn't help as he turned down the road that led right to the front of the Dutton ranch.

You wanted to try and avoid John as much as possible. Try and reconnect with his kids, well, they weren't kids anymore, hell you even thought about running to the bunkhouse to make awkward conversation with the ranch hands, anything to make your stay go faster but it was pointless.

John was already waiting. He stood on his porch, staring at you as Jamie turned the truck off. You looked away for a second to undo your seatbelt and open the door but when you looked back John was gone. A part of you honestly thought you were losing it, but when Jamies hand pressed to the middle of your back as he motioned you inside the house you realised that it was no dream at all.

There he stood. Mr Dutton. The man who had fucked you not even a day ago in a shitty motel room, the man you knew all about but who couldn't remember you. It hit you like a freight train when he turned to look at you. Once soft blue eyes replaced with a stern gaze that made you feel small. He crossed the room, said hi to Jamie and then brought all of his attention to you. "I'm John, nice to meet you." He says holding his hand out. You take it into your own and his grip feels tight. He's definitely angry, but he's doing a fantastic job at hiding it.

Sensing some tension, though he doesn't know why, Jamie takes the opportunity to save you from his father's gaze and gives you an updated tour of the house. You'd been here plenty times before but the decor had become more modernised, some pieces still remained, things that were too nice or held memories that John wasn't ready to part with yet. After the tour Jamie returned you back to the living room where you were then forced to try and have a normal conversation with Beth. She asked a few questions here and there and you answered where you could until she asked if you'd gotten lucky since coming back.

You laughed. "Oh yeah, you have no idea. That's a story for another day though." You reply and she laughs. After some small talk, where you were practically glued to Jamies side the table was set. Everyone took their places and you were forced to sit opposite John who had been glaring at you ever since you'd walked through the front door.

The food was great, the wine even better as it worked its magic at surpassing your anxieties about being under the same roof as a man you had ridden to high heavens hours ago. Under the table you feel Johns boot tap yours and it makes you jump ever so slightly. Avoiding his gaze you continue eating and conversing with his family until he taps you again. "Sorry." You announce. "Can you excuse me for a moment please." Your voice is shaking as you stand from your chair and quickly make your way out of the room and to the bathroom down the hall.

You run the cold tap and collect water in your hands, splashing it onto your face in an attempt to cool yourself down. "You knew." A familiar voice makes you jump as you dry your face with the flannel. Looking in the mirror you see John stood in the doorway of the bathroom, he's leaning against the doorframe, hands on his hips and his eyes fixated on the back of your head.

You turn around and his eyes finally meet yours. "I'm sorry, I tried to tell you but I couldn't find the right time. If id've known beforehand that Jamie was going to bring me to this meal I would have said something straight away."

He laughs. "Sure."

You stood in awkward silence and contemplated barging past John and walking back to your motel but the sound of the bathroom door shutting brought your attention back to him. He'd shut the door and was currently stepping towards you, a smirk plastered on his handsome face as he closed the distance.

"Y'know, when I saw you at that bar I could've sworn I'd seen you somewhere before." His voice low. "Why don't you stay here tonight, I've got a bed that's much nicer than a shitty motel one."

"Hmm, you didn't seem to mind the shitty motel one though." You reply with a flirty tone and he smiles. "Plus I've paid for the week, can't really afford to waste money like you Duttons."

"I'll reimburse you."

The Yellowstone Ranch kitchen still felt suffocating, the echo of Beth’s words ringing in the silence long after she stormed out. The weight of her revelation pressed down like a vice, your chest tightening with each passing second. John’s presence, usually so steady and commanding, felt different now. He looked tired, older somehow, as he sat across from you at the kitchen table.

The silence stretched on until you couldn’t bear it anymore. “Why?” The single word slipped from your lips, trembling and raw. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Why let me live a lie?”

John leaned back in his chair, his broad shoulders sagging as he ran a hand through his graying hair. “Because we weren’t trying to hide the truth from you—we were trying to protect you from it.”

“Protect me from what?” Your voice rose, anger and confusion mixing with the ache in your chest. “From knowing where I came from? From knowing my father—Lee—didn’t want me?”

John’s jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with the kind of steel that only a man like him could muster. “Lee wanted you,” he said firmly. “Don’t you ever think otherwise. He loved you, but he was young—barely more than a boy himself. He was scared, and he didn’t know how to raise a child. So Evelyn and I stepped in.”

You blinked back tears, the weight of his words sinking in. “And my mother? What about her?”

John’s expression darkened. “She wasn’t ready either. She left Montana not long after you were born. Never looked back.”

The words stung, cutting deep even though you’d never known the woman. “So you just… decided to take me in? Pretend like I was yours?”

“We didn’t pretend,” John said, his voice softening. “You are mine. From the moment you came into this house, you were my daughter. I don’t give a damn what blood says. I raised you. I taught you how to ride, how to stand your ground, how to fight for what you believe in. You’re as much a Dutton as any of us.”

His words stirred something inside you—a flicker of the love and security you’d always felt in this family. But the confusion and hurt still loomed large, threatening to swallow you whole. “Does Kayce know?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Does everyone else know who I really am?”

John hesitated, and in that brief pause, you got your answer. “Beth and Jamie know,” he admitted. “Kayce doesn’t. And Lee—he wanted to tell you, but before he could…” His voice trailed off, the unspoken truth hanging heavy in the air.

Before Lee died.

Hours later, you found yourself sitting by the firepit outside, the vast Montana night stretching endlessly above you. The stars were so bright they almost didn’t seem real, but even their beauty couldn’t quiet the turmoil inside. The truth felt like a wound that wouldn’t stop bleeding, each new thought reopening it.

Footsteps crunched softly on the gravel behind you, and Kayce appeared, his silhouette illuminated by the flickering firelight. He carried two steaming mugs, offering one to you as he settled into the chair beside you.

“You look like you could use this,” he said, his voice low.

You took the mug gratefully, the warmth seeping into your hands. “Dad told you?” you asked, not looking at him.

“Yeah,” Kayce said simply. He leaned back in his chair, staring into the flames. “He told me everything.”

The silence between you was heavy but not uncomfortable. It felt like Kayce was giving you the space to speak first, to sort through your tangled thoughts. Finally, you broke the silence.

“It’s like everything I thought I knew about myself… isn’t real anymore,” you said, your voice shaking. “I thought I was John and Evelyn’s daughter. I thought I belonged.”

Kayce turned to you, his expression soft but resolute. “You do belong. Nothing’s changed that.”

“How can you say that?” you asked, your voice breaking. “I’m not even really a Dutton. I’m just some mistake Lee made when he was a teenager.”

“Don’t say that,” Kayce said sharply, his voice cutting through the quiet like a blade. “You’re not a mistake. You’re family. You’ve always been family. Blood doesn’t make a Dutton—it’s loyalty, and heart, and standing with the people you love no matter what. That’s who you are.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you quickly wiped them away, but Kayce wasn’t done.

“Do you know what Dad said when Tate was born?” he asked, his voice softening again. “He said being a father isn’t about who shares your blood. It’s about who shows up, who stays, who fights for you when it matters. And he’s shown up for you every day of your life. We all have.”

His words wrapped around the ache in your chest, soothing it like a balm. “I just… I don’t know how to feel,” you admitted. “I’m angry, and sad, and confused all at the same time.”

“That’s okay,” Kayce said. “You don’t have to figure it all out tonight. But don’t let what Beth said make you doubt who you are or where you stand. You’re one of us. Always have been, always will be.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the crackle of the fire filling the space between you. Then Kayce spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Lee would’ve been proud of you, you know.”

You turned to him, your heart tightening. “You think so?”

Kayce nodded. “I know so. He might’ve been young, but he loved you. And if he could see you now—the way you carry yourself, the way you fight for this ranch and this family—he’d be proud as hell.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, but this time, you didn’t wipe them away. Kayce stayed beside you, his quiet presence steady and comforting. For the first time that day, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

Later, back in the house, John found you sitting at the kitchen table, the same spot where he’d told you the truth. He didn’t say anything at first, just sat down across from you and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“I know today was hard,” he said finally, his voice low and steady. “But I want you to know something.”

You looked at him, waiting.

“You’re my daughter,” John said, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. “I don’t care what Beth or anyone else says. I’ve loved you like my own since the day you were born, and nothing’s ever going to change that.”

The emotion in his voice broke something loose in you, and you leaned forward, resting your head in your hands as tears spilled freely. John reached across the table, his large, calloused hand covering yours.

“Family isn’t about blood,” he said softly. “It’s about showing up. And no matter what happens, I’ll always show up for you.”

In that moment, with John’s hand steady on yours and Kayce’s words still echoing in your mind, you realized that while the truth had shaken you, it hadn’t broken you. This was your family—messy, complicated, and flawed—but yours. And that would never change.