{Can We Be Mad Tomorrow? Ryan x F!Reader}
Summary - After an argument leaves Ryan back in the bunkhouse for the night, you decide some things are more important than winning and squeeze into the world's smallest bunk to finish the conversation later.
Word Count - 5700ish
A/N - I wrote this a while ago and never posted it so hopefully it is good.
Ryan knew something was wrong when you stopped getting ready for bed.
You sat on the edge of the mattress with one sock pulled halfway over your foot, your hands gone still around the fabric. The bedroom was warm from the fire downstairs, but a faint draught slipped through the old window and stirred the curtains behind you.
Ryan closed the door with his heel.
His hat was already in his hand, his shirt untucked on one side. Dust marked the cuffs from a long day, and tiredness sat in the faint crease between his brows.
Normally, he would have crossed the room without thinking. He would have bent to kiss you, dropped his belt beside the dresser and asked whether you had stolen his side of the bed again.
Instead, he remained near the door.
“You all right?”
You pulled the sock the rest of the way on.
“How long are you going for?”
Ryan’s hand paused at the first button of his shirt.
The hesitation lasted barely a second.
It was enough.
“Four days.”
You nodded slowly.
Outside, wind moved through the trees surrounding the house. A branch scraped lightly against the window before falling away again.
“So Colby wasn’t joking.”
Ryan let his hand drop. “He told you?”
“He asked whether I planned on spending all four days sulking around the house.”
A quiet breath left him. “Sounds like Colby.”
“I thought he was trying to wind me up.”
Ryan crossed the room and sat beside you. The mattress dipped beneath his weight, drawing your bodies slightly closer even though neither of you moved.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“You’ve been up here for nearly half an hour.”
“I know.”
His voice stayed quiet, but there was already a guardedness in it that made your chest tighten.
You looked down at your hands. “I’m not angry that you’re going.”
Ryan rested his forearms on his thighs. “Okay.”
“I know it’s work. I know Rip needs people, and I know plans change.”
“I know you do.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
He stared at the floorboards between his boots.
“I don’t know.”
“You knew this morning.”
“Rip asked me this morning.”
“And you said yes.”
“That’s usually what happens when he asks me to do something.”
The answer came sharper than anything he had said so far.
You turned towards him. “I didn’t say you should’ve told him no.”
Ryan rubbed one hand over his jaw. “I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Because you’re acting like I’m upset you didn’t ask permission.”
He looked at you then.
“Aren’t you?”
The question landed harder than it should have.
You drew back slightly. “No.”
Ryan’s expression shifted, but he did not take it back.
“I would never ask you to turn down work because of me.”
“I didn’t say you would.”
“You just asked whether I was angry because you didn’t get my permission.”
“I asked because I’m trying to understand why we’re fighting.”
“We’re fighting because everyone on the ranch knew you were leaving before I did.”
The room went quiet.
Ryan leaned forward again, elbows braced on his knees. His shoulders were tight beneath his shirt, the muscles shifting when he clasped his hands together.
You watched him struggle with whatever answer he did not want to give.
“I knew you’d be upset,” he said at last.
“So you decided not to tell me?”
“I decided not to tell you at breakfast.”
“What about lunch?”
“You were happy.”
Despite the hurt sitting heavily in your chest, you almost laughed.
“That is a terrible excuse.”
“I know.”
“You can’t wait until I’m already miserable before you tell me something I might not like.”
“That ain’t what I was doing.”
“What were you doing?”
Ryan pushed himself upright.
“I was trying to get through one day without feeling guilty for doing my job.”
You stared at him.
“You think I make you feel guilty?”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not what I said.”
“It sounded a lot like it.”
Ryan stood and crossed towards the dresser, stopping with both hands braced against its edge.
His eyes settled on the small collection of belongings that had gradually appeared there over the past few months. His spare watch. A folded handkerchief. The loose coins he emptied from his pockets at night.
None of it had been placed there deliberately.
It had simply stayed.
“I know you understand the ranch,” he said. “Better than anybody. I know you’d never ask me to tell Rip no.”
“Then what is this really about?”
Ryan looked at you through the mirror.
“It’s about knowing you’re gonna be disappointed every time I leave.”
“I’m not disappointed in you.”
“You look at me like you already miss me before I’ve even gone.”
“Because I do.”
“I know.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“It ain’t.”
“Then stop treating it like one.”
Ryan turned away from the dresser.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“I want you to tell me things.”
“I was going to tell you.”
The same answer again.
Something hot and hurt rose through you.
“You keep saying that as though it fixes the fact that you didn’t.”
His expression hardened. “I worked all day.”
“So did everybody else who knew.”
“I didn’t think Colby would run straight to you.”
“This isn’t Colby’s fault.”
“I know that.”
“Then stop blaming him.”
“I’m not blaming anybody.”
“You’re blaming me.”
Ryan stared at you.
The silence that followed felt far more heated than shouting would have.
You stood from the bed, unable to remain seated while he looked at you as though you had become another problem waiting for him at the end of a long day.
“I am not angry because you’re leaving,” you said. “I’m hurt because you didn’t think I deserved to know.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Why?”
“Because you know that ain’t what happened.”
“Then tell me what did.”
Ryan dragged a hand through his hair.
“I heard Rip talking about it. I said I’d go. Then I spent the rest of the day thinking about how I’d come up here and you’d try not to look sad.”
Your anger faltered, but only slightly.
“So you avoided telling me instead.”
“I didn’t avoid you.”
“You had breakfast with me. You sat beside me at lunch. You ate dinner at my table.”
“At your father’s table.”
The correction came quickly.
You went still.
Ryan seemed to hear it only after it had left him.
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No. Say it.”
He looked away.
“Ryan.”
“It means this is still his house.”
“I know whose house it is.”
“And this is still his ranch.”
“I know that too.”
“And I’m still one of his hands.”
The words came out low and controlled, but the frustration behind them had clearly been waiting longer than this argument.
You stared at him. “Is that what you think you are when you’re up here?”
Ryan’s face tightened. “That ain’t what I said.”
“You keep saying that tonight.”
“Because you keep turning everything into something bigger.”
Your breath caught.
The words changed the shape of the argument.
Ryan seemed to realise it at the same moment you did.
He took a step towards you. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You think I’m making a fuss over nothing.”
“No.”
“You just said I was.”
“I said we’re both tired and this got bigger than it needed to.”
“Because I asked why you didn’t tell me?”
“Because neither one of us knows when to stop.”
You folded your arms tightly across yourself.
“I tried to explain why I was hurt.”
“And I apologised.”
“You apologised and then acted like I was trying to control you.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You asked whether I was angry you didn’t get my permission.”
Ryan looked down, his jaw working.
He had no answer for that.
You blinked against the sting gathering behind your eyes.
“I don’t want you asking my permission,” you said. “I want you to think of me when something changes in your life.”
“I do think of you.”
“Then why was I the last person to know?”
“You weren’t the last.”
“I was behind Jimmy, Ryan.”
That nearly broke through his frustration.
His mouth twitched, but the expression disappeared too quickly to become a smile.
“It was one day.”
“And it mattered to me.”
Ryan exhaled sharply and turned away.
“I can’t do anything right tonight.”
The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than if he had shouted.
You stared at his back. “That isn’t what I’m saying.”
“It’s what it feels like.”
“I’m telling you that I wanted to hear something from my boyfriend before I heard it from Colby.”
“And I told you I should’ve said something.”
“But you keep making me feel guilty for being hurt.”
Ryan turned again. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty.”
“You’re doing a good job of it.”
The two of you stood on opposite sides of the room, both breathing harder than the argument seemed to deserve.
His hat sat on the dresser between you, the brim casting a long shadow beneath the lamp.
Ryan looked towards it.
Then towards the bed.
“I think I should go back to the bunkhouse tonight.”
The anger inside you gave way to panic so quickly it almost made you dizzy.
“You don’t have to.”
“I think I do.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to lie beside you while we’re both this mad.”
“We could keep talking.”
“We’ve been talking.”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
Ryan picked up his hat.
You watched his fingers close around the brim.
He did not gather clothes. He did not reach for anything from the bathroom or act as though he was leaving for more than one night.
Still, the simple certainty of him choosing the door made your chest ache.
“You come up here nearly every night,” you said quietly.
His eyes moved towards the bed.
“I know.”
“And now you’re leaving because I asked why you didn’t tell me something?”
“I’m leaving because everything I say is making this worse.”
“Running away won’t make it better.”
“I ain’t running away. My bed is still down there.”
The reminder hurt more than it should have.
You knew Ryan had never officially moved into your room. You knew his bunk still belonged to him, even if it had become a place he rarely used.
Hearing him call it his bed made the one behind you feel suddenly less shared.
“Fine,” you said.
Ryan’s expression softened.
You could see that he wanted you to take the word back.
Part of you wanted to.
Instead, you looked away.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” he said.
“Goodnight.”
Ryan lingered beside the door for another second.
Then he left.
The door closed quietly behind him.
That softness made it worse.
By the time Ryan reached the bunkhouse, most of his anger had burned away.
Unfortunately, everybody inside was still wide awake.
Laughter and shouting carried through the walls before he opened the door. A card game occupied the table, with Colby, Walker, Jake and Ethan talking over one another while Jimmy insisted someone had cheated him. Teeter was stretched across the end of a bunk, loudly giving advice nobody had asked for, and Lloyd sat nearby cleaning a piece of tack with the patience of a man who had learnt to ignore almost everything around him.
Ryan stepped inside.
The noise stopped.
Every head turned.
Walker looked him over first. “Well, somebody’s evening went to hell.”
Jake glanced towards the door behind Ryan. “You forget something?”
“Looks like he remembered something,” Colby said. “Where his bunk is.”
Jimmy twisted around in his chair. “Are you sleeping here?”
Ryan shut the door. “No, Jimmy. I came to watch you lose money.”
“I’m not losing.”
“You owe me twelve dollars,” Ethan said.
Teeter sat up, squinting at Ryan. “Why you look like somebody kicked your dog?”
“Nobody kicked anything.”
Walker rested his cards against his chest. “You and the boss’s daughter have words?”
Ryan crossed towards his old bunk. “Mind your business.”
The bunk was nearly invisible beneath two shirts, a saddle blanket and somebody’s jacket.
He swept everything onto the nearest chair.
Jake pointed at the pile. “Hey, that’s mine.”
“Then keep it off my bed.”
Colby leaned back. “Thought your bed was up at the big house now.”
“This is still my bed.”
“Sure don’t look like you use it.”
Jimmy’s expression grew concerned. “Did Mr Dutton kick you out?”
A chorus of groans moved around the room.
“Jesus, Jimmy,” Walker muttered.
“What? It could happen.”
Ryan sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled off one boot. “He didn’t kick me out.”
“Did she?” Jake asked.
“No.”
“Then why are you here?” Jimmy persisted.
Lloyd did not look up from the leather in his hands. “Boy’s already answered more questions than he wanted to.”
“He didn’t really answer any.”
“That was your clue to stop.”
Teeter swung her feet to the floor. “They had themselves a lovers’ quarrel.”
Ryan dropped his boot harder than necessary.
The room erupted.
Walker slapped the table. Colby grinned into his cards, and Jake let out a low whistle.
“I knew it,” Jimmy said.
“You didn’t know anything,” Colby told him.
Ryan removed his other boot and lay down on the bunk. The mattress creaked beneath him, the pillow collapsing almost flat beneath his head.
“Anybody still talking in ten seconds is getting smothered.”
Walker dealt another card. “With what? That little blanket?”
“You got more leg outside the bed than under it,” Jake added.
Teeter laughed. “Man got used to them fancy sheets.”
“They’re regular sheets,” Ryan muttered.
Colby raised his eyebrows. “So you admit you got sheets upstairs.”
Ryan turned towards the wall.
The card game resumed around him, louder than before.
Eventually the bunkhouse settled, though it did not become quiet so much as gradually less noisy. Boots hit the floor. Someone argued over the bathroom. Teeter threatened Jake for stealing her blanket, and Walker managed two unfinished chords on his guitar before Lloyd told him where he could put it.
Ryan lay facing the wall through all of it.
The bunk was too narrow, the mattress too thin and the pillow nearly useless.
None of that was the real problem.
The real problem was that you were not there.
There was no warm body curled into his side. No hand finding the front of his shirt. No cold feet pressing against his legs until he complained and pulled you closer anyway.
Ryan rolled onto his back.
The bedframe groaned.
“Quit tossing around,” Jake muttered from the darkness.
“Quit listening.”
“Whole room can hear you.”
Walker’s voice came from another bunk. “He’s pining.”
“I ain’t pining.”
Colby laughed softly. “Sounds like pining.”
Ryan dragged the blanket over his face.
Up at the main house, you were having no more success.
You lay in the centre of the bed, then on your side, then on your stomach, rearranging the pillows as though one of them might become Ryan if you found the correct angle.
His side remained cold.
You hated that you had called it that without ever saying the words aloud.
His side.
The place where his watch usually landed at night. The place where his hand rested when he reached for you in his sleep. The dip in the mattress that had begun to hold the shape of him.
You were still hurt, and he had still been wrong not to tell you.
None of that made the empty bed easier to bear.
You lasted another fifteen minutes.
Then you sat up.
“This is ridiculous,” you whispered.
The empty room offered no argument.
You found a thick pair of socks and pulled your boots on over your pyjama bottoms. The old sweatshirt hanging over the chair went on next.
Ryan’s sweatshirt.
You considered changing it.
You did not.
A heavy coat went over everything.
The bunkhouse was not sitting just beyond the porch. It stood down near the stables, separated from the main house by a long stretch of ranch road, fencing and open ground.
You had plenty of time to change your mind.
You slipped into the dark hallway and moved quietly through the house. One small light glowed above the kitchen stove.
You always left it burning when Ryan was late.
The sight of it made your chest tighten.
Cold air met your face as soon as you stepped outside.
You shoved your hands into your sleeves and started walking.
Gravel shifted beneath your boots. The light from the main house faded behind you while the distant glow near the stables grew clearer.
The ranch felt bigger at night.
Fields disappeared into darkness. Fence posts rose at intervals beside the road, and the mountains became black shapes beneath the stars.
You passed the nearest corral. One of the horses shifted inside the stable, a hoof scraping softly against the ground. Somewhere farther out, cattle murmured to one another.
There was enough distance for you to question your decision several times.
You were crossing the ranch in the middle of the night because you could not sleep without your boyfriend.
Your father would not be pleased.
Beth would think it was hilarious.
The bunkhouse would never let either of you forget it.
You slowed.
You could turn around.
You could go back to your warm room and wait until morning.
Then you imagined Ryan waking alone in that tiny bunk while you did the same in a bed with more than enough room for both of you.
You kept walking.
By the time you reached the bunkhouse, your fingers were cold inside your sleeves and the end of your nose had gone numb.
The lights had been extinguished.
You eased the door open.
The hinges gave a faint complaint, but it was swallowed by the snoring coming from inside. Someone shifted in one of the bunks, rolled over and immediately went still again.
You slipped through the gap and closed the door carefully behind you.
Moonlight came through the windows, showing the bunks and the clutter spread across the floor. Boots, belts and discarded clothes formed an obstacle course between you and Ryan.
You stepped over Jimmy’s belt and narrowly avoided a bucket beside the table.
Your boot caught the heel of another.
It scraped across the boards.
You froze.
A snore broke off for half a second before starting again even louder.
Nobody woke.
The men worked long days. Apparently, a person could drive cattle through the middle of the room once they finally fell asleep.
You continued towards Ryan.
His bunk was on the far side of the room. He lay facing the wall with one arm tucked beneath his flattened pillow, the thin blanket barely covering him.
There was no room for you.
None.
You lifted the blanket anyway.
Ryan stirred when the cold air reached him.
“What the…”
“Shh.”
His eyes opened.
You put one knee on the mattress and tried to squeeze between his back and the wall.
Ryan turned his head. “What’re you doing?”
“Move.”
“There ain’t anywhere to move.”
“Make somewhere.”
“This bed’s six inches wide.”
“Then get smaller.”
Despite the complaint, Ryan shifted towards the edge.
The frame creaked beneath your added weight.
Neither of you moved for a moment.
Someone across the room grunted in their sleep.
Then the snoring continued.
You squeezed into the space Ryan had made. Your chest pressed against his, one knee slid between his legs and your shoulder remained wedged against the wall.
Ryan stared at you through the darkness.
“You walked all the way down here?”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
“You could’ve called me.”
“You might not have answered.”
“I would’ve answered.”
The certainty in his voice softened something inside you.
Your cold hand slipped beneath the edge of his shirt.
Ryan jerked.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Sorry.”
“You’re freezing.”
“It’s cold outside.”
“No kidding.”
His arm came around you automatically. He pulled the blanket over your shoulder and rubbed his palm briskly along your back.
You tucked your face beneath his chin.
His body was warm from sleep. Familiar. The smell of him surrounded you, soap, faded leather and the trace of the ranch that always clung to him.
The tightness in your chest eased almost immediately.
Ryan slid one leg over yours, trapping your cold feet between his calves.
“You really walked down here?” he whispered.
“You already asked me that.”
“Still trying to figure out why.”
You pressed closer. “I told you.”
“Couldn’t sleep?”
“No.”
His hand slowed against your back.
“Me neither.”
The admission was so quiet you nearly missed it.
You lifted your head.
His face was close, softened by sleep and darkness. The anger from earlier had faded, leaving tiredness and something tender beneath it.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
Ryan’s brows pulled together. “For what?”
“For saying you were running away.”
He looked at you for a moment. “I kind of was.”
“You were going back to your own bed.”
“This don’t feel like my bed anymore.”
Your heart squeezed.
“You said it was.”
“I was mad.”
“You were trying to hurt me?”
“No.” His arm tightened around you. “I was trying to remind myself I still had somewhere else to go.”
The honesty of it made your throat ache.
“You always have somewhere to go,” you said.
Ryan’s eyes searched yours.
“With me,” you added.
His fingers moved slowly along your back. “I know.”
“I don’t want you thinking you have to prove you belong in my room every night.”
“I’m still trying to prove it to your father.”
“This isn’t his room.”
“Whole damn house is his.”
“Not the bed.”
Ryan’s mouth softened at the corners. “No?”
“No. Half of it’s yours.”
“Only half?”
“You take up more, but legally you get half.”
A quiet laugh left him.
You rested your forehead against his.
“I’m sorry I asked whether I knew what I was to you.”
Ryan was quiet for a moment.
“That one hurt.”
“I know.”
“You know what you are.”
“I do.”
“I should tell you more anyway.”
Your fingers curled into the front of his shirt.
“I should’ve told you about the trip,” he continued. “Before Colby knew. Before Jimmy knew.”
“Jimmy probably overheard it.”
“He hears everything by accident.”
“And understands none of it.”
Ryan laughed silently, his chest moving beneath your cheek.
“I’m still a little mad,” you whispered.
“Yeah.”
“You?”
“A little.”
“You’re mad at me?”
“You’re taking up my whole bunk.”
You drew back enough to stare at him. “This is barely a bed.”
“Worked fine before you got here.”
You began shifting away.
Ryan’s arm tightened immediately, pulling you back against him.
“Didn’t say you had to go.”
“You implied it.”
“I implied you’ve got sharp elbows.”
“You love my elbows.”
“Wouldn’t go that far.”
You pressed one deliberately into his side.
Ryan muffled a laugh against your hair.
“Can we be mad tomorrow?”
His expression softened completely.
“Yeah.”
“Just not tonight.”
“Tomorrow,” he agreed.
You leaned closer and kissed him.
It was brief and sleepy, nothing more than the soft press of his mouth against yours. Ryan followed when you began to pull back, catching you for a second kiss before resting his forehead against yours.
“Better?”
“A little.”
“Need another?”
“Maybe.”
He kissed you again, slower this time.
When you parted, his nose brushed yours.
“You made me walk all this way,” you murmured.
“You chose to walk.”
“You could’ve come back.”
“You could’ve called.”
“You could’ve told me about the trip.”
Ryan sighed. “Thought we were being mad tomorrow.”
“Right.”
He tucked your head beneath his chin and pulled the blanket higher around you.
“Go to sleep.”
“You’re hanging off the bed.”
“I’m fine.”
“Your shoulder is in the air.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“You can move closer.”
“There is no closer.”
You wriggled against him anyway.
Ryan made a quiet, pained sound. “Your knee is somewhere it shouldn’t be.”
“Sorry.”
“You don’t sound sorry.”
You pressed a kiss to his chest through his shirt.
His hand settled against the back of your head.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart.”
This time, you did.
Morning arrived with noise.
Lloyd’s boots hit the floor first. Then came the scrape of Jake climbing down, Walker complaining about someone using his mug and Jimmy insisting he had not touched it.
“Your name ain’t on it,” Jimmy said.
“My name is carved into the handle.”
“I thought that was a scratch.”
“It spells Walker.”
“I didn’t read it.”
“That don’t surprise anybody,” Colby said.
Ryan stirred behind you but did not wake fully.
During the night, you had turned until your back rested against his chest. One arm was beneath your head, the other locked around your waist. Your legs were tangled together beneath the blanket, and one of your feet stuck out over the end of the bunk.
Ryan had almost no mattress left.
His back pressed against the wall, one shoulder hung over the edge and his wrist dangled limply towards the floor.
Lloyd was the first to notice the unfamiliar pair of boots beside Ryan’s bunk.
He looked from them to the pale sock sticking out beneath the blanket.
Then he looked at Ryan’s arm around your waist.
He stopped buttoning his shirt.
Walker followed his gaze.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
The bunkhouse quieted one voice at a time.
Jake turned, still holding his shirt. Colby sat up and blinked twice. Ethan paused with the coffee pot in his hand.
Jimmy looked around at everyone. “What?”
Teeter shoved past him for a better view.
Her grin appeared instantly.
“Well, shit.”
Jimmy finally followed their attention.
“There’re two people in Ryan’s bed.”
“Thank Christ you’re here,” Walker said. “None of us had eyes.”
Colby leaned sideways. “How the hell did she get in here?”
“Door, probably,” Jake said.
“I mean without waking anybody.”
Teeter pointed around the room. “Y’all sleep like the dead.”
Jimmy stared at the boots. “Did she walk down from the house?”
“Unless Ryan’s hiding a truck under his bunk,” Ethan said.
“That’s pretty far.”
Colby’s smile widened. “Not when you’re in love.”
Ryan shifted in his sleep and pulled you closer.
The movement made several of them laugh.
“Look at him,” Walker said. “One night back in the bunkhouse and he brings the main house with him.”
“He ain’t even in the bed,” Jake added.
Half of Ryan was pressed against the wall, his shoulder hanging beyond the narrow mattress.
Jimmy frowned at the arm dangling towards the floor.
“His hand looks dead.”
“It probably is,” Ethan said.
“Should we wake him?”
“No,” Lloyd answered.
“Should we move the arm?”
“No.”
“It could fall off.”
Lloyd reached for his hat. “Then it’ll fall off quieter if you stop talking.”
Teeter moved closer to the bunk.
“Think they had themselves a good night after all.”
You woke to the sound of several people trying and failing to whisper.
For one comfortable second, you saw only Ryan.
His hair was messy, his face creased from the pillow and his expression soft with sleep.
Then you noticed Colby over his shoulder.
Behind him were Walker, Jake, Jimmy, Ethan and Teeter. Lloyd had turned away, though not quite quickly enough to pretend he had never looked.
You went completely still.
Ryan felt it.
His eyes opened.
He followed your stare towards the room full of ranch hands.
There was a beat of complete silence.
“Morning,” Colby said brightly.
You closed your eyes again. “No.”
The bunkhouse erupted.
Walker laughed first. Jake nearly dropped his shirt, and Teeter shouted something delighted that you could not entirely understand.
Ryan buried his face against the back of your shoulder.
“How long have they been staring?” you whispered.
“Too long.”
“She’s awake,” Jimmy announced.
“Thank you, Jimmy,” you muttered.
“How’d you get in without waking anybody?”
“Quietly.”
“You kicked my boot.”
Your eyes opened. “How do you know?”
“There’s a mark on the floor.”
Walker looked at him. “Man can’t read a name carved in a mug, but he can track one boot across a room.”
Jimmy shrugged. “I know my things.”
Teeter leaned against the end of the bunk. “Y’all really fit two grown people in that little-ass bed?”
“Barely,” Ryan said.
“You ain’t even on it.”
“I noticed.”
Jake pointed at Ryan’s dangling arm. “Can you feel that?”
Ryan attempted to lift it.
Nothing happened.
“No.”
Jimmy nodded solemnly. “Told you it was dead.”
“You told them while I was asleep?”
“We were concerned.”
“You were staring.”
“That too,” Colby admitted.
You pulled the blanket over your face.
Ryan’s chest shook behind you.
“This is your fault,” you whispered.
“My fault?”
“You left.”
“You followed me.”
“You made me walk.”
“Nobody made you do anything.”
Walker leaned against another bunk. “You really walked all the way from the house because he slept down here one night?”
You lowered the blanket enough to glare at him. “I couldn’t sleep.”
Colby pressed one hand over his heart.
“That is sickeningly sweet.”
“Shut up.”
Teeter grinned. “Ain’t nobody ever crossed that much land in pyjama pants for me.”
Jake glanced at her. “Nobody’s brave enough.”
She smacked the back of his head.
Lloyd pulled on his coat. “Coffee’s ready. Best get moving before John notices his youngest is missing.”
The room changed immediately.
You pushed the blanket away from your face. “What time is it?”
“Five after,” Ethan said.
You sat up too quickly.
Your elbow caught Ryan beneath the chin while your knee pressed somewhere that made him swear.
“Sorry.”
“Sharp elbows,” he muttered.
“I warned you.”
You tried to climb over him, but the blanket twisted around your legs. Ryan caught your waist before you pitched onto the floor.
The bunkhouse broke into fresh laughter.
“This isn’t funny,” you said, despite laughing yourself.
“It is from here,” Walker replied.
Ryan untangled the blanket and helped you sit at the edge of the mattress. His hair stuck up at the back, one side of his face was marked by the pillow and his numb arm hung uselessly beside him.
You rubbed his shoulder carefully.
“I’m sorry.”
“Worth it.”
The answer came without hesitation.
The bunkhouse quieted for half a heartbeat.
Then Colby sighed dramatically. “That’s beautiful.”
Walker pretended to wipe away a tear. “Our boy’s in love.”
“He was in love yesterday,” Jake said. “Today he’s got nerve damage.”
Teeter slapped Ryan lightly on his good shoulder. “That’s the price of romance.”
“Can everybody leave?” Ryan asked.
“No,” several voices answered together.
You bent to find your boots. Dust and bits of gravel still clung to the soles from your walk.
Jimmy stared at them.
“You really did come all that way.”
“Yes, Jimmy.”
“Why didn’t you drive?”
“Because starting a truck outside the main house in the middle of the night seemed less subtle.”
Colby looked around the crowded bunkhouse. “This worked out real subtle.”
“You were all asleep.”
That stopped them.
Walker looked towards Colby. “You didn’t hear her?”
“No.”
Jake shook his head. “Me neither.”
Teeter looked offended. “A Dutton broke into our bunkhouse and not one of us woke up?”
“I didn’t break in.”
Lloyd opened the door. “Maybe don’t tell John how poor the security is down here.”
“That is an excellent point,” Colby said.
Ryan’s good hand found yours.
“You going back up?” he asked quietly.
You looked towards the door and then at him.
“Eventually.”
“Could eat first.”
“Down here?”
“If you can handle breakfast with this bunch.”
Colby pulled a chair away from the table. “She’s always welcome.”
“More welcome than Ryan,” Walker added.
“We like her better,” Jake said.
Teeter nodded. “Much prettier.”
Ryan looked around the room. “I live here.”
“Debatable,” Colby replied.
You smiled despite yourself.
“I think it’s too late to save my dignity anyway.”
“Probably,” Ryan said.
You nudged his knee with yours.
“We’re still talking later.”
“I know.”
“And you’re telling me things before Colby from now on.”
Colby raised both hands. “Leave me out of your relationship.”
“You put yourself in it,” Ryan told him.
“I asked one friendly question.”
“You asked whether she planned on sulking for four days.”
“That was preparation.”
Ryan turned back to you. “I’ll tell you.”
“You promise?”
“Yeah.”
His expression softened, all the defensiveness from the night before replaced by something open and certain.
You leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his mouth.
It was meant to last a second.
Ryan’s hand slid around the back of your neck and kept you there for one more.
The bunkhouse exploded.
Walker whistled. Jake banged his hand against the table. Jimmy whooped louder than anyone, and Teeter shouted, “Get it, cowboy!”
Ethan nearly dropped the coffee pot laughing.
Lloyd walked through the door without looking back.
“Breakfast,” he called. “Before this turns into something none of us need to see.”
You pulled away from Ryan, laughing as you hid your face against his shoulder.
“We’re never going to hear the end of this.”
“Nope.”
“This is terrible.”
Ryan wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.
“Still worth it.”
You looked at the tiny bunk, the room full of grinning ranch hands and your boots carrying the dirt from the long walk down from the house.
Then you looked at Ryan.
His arm was numb, his neck would probably hurt for the rest of the day and he was leaving for four mornings before the sun had fully risen.
But he was smiling at you.
Softly.
Like he had made room where there had been none and would do it again without hesitation.
You tucked yourself against his side.
“Can we still be mad tomorrow?”
Ryan kissed your temple.
“Gonna have to wait four days now.”
“Good.”
His fingers threaded through yours.
Around you, the bunkhouse returned noisily to life. Walker and Jake resumed arguing over the mug. Jimmy asked whether Ryan’s hand needed a doctor. Teeter announced that she deserved credit for helping reunite you despite having slept through the entire thing, and Colby was already retelling the discovery as though he had personally solved a crime.
Ryan kept you close through all of it.
And for another few minutes, before breakfast, work and the long ride waiting beyond the ranch, you let him.
