The days after my attack drug on. I was examined. I didn't know for sure what they did to me when I was out. The bruising on my legs and thighs made them think the worst but I had to know for sure.

"Take these," the nurse said as she handed me a cup with pills, "just in case it's not conclusive."

I didn't need to ask what the pills were, I knew.

I stared down at the cup in my hands, the tiny white pills rattling against the plastic as my grip tightened. Just in case.

The words settled over me like a suffocating weight.

I didn't know what happened when I was unconscious. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. The bruises, the foggy memories, the sick feeling in my gut—I had no answers, only the gnawing uncertainty that wouldn't let me breathe.

I swallowed hard and forced my shaking fingers to close around the pills.

Outside, Ryan's boots continued their restless pacing, each step a reminder that he was waiting for me. That he hadn't left.

Would he still look at me the same if the worst had happened? Would he see me as broken?

I downed the pills.

"That man outside with your father, he your boyfriend?" the nurse asked, "We need to know if we find anything and he needs to be ruled out."

I nodded and bit my lip, "but it's been several days so I don't think…"

The words died in my throat. I didn't want to finish that thought. I didn't want to say it out loud, to give it weight.

The nurse gave me a sympathetic nod, jotting something down on the chart. "We'll do everything we can to get you answers, honey."

I swallowed, my mouth dry. Answers. I wasn't sure if I wanted them or if I was terrified of what they might be.

Outside, Ryan was still there. So was my father. I could hear his voice—low, clipped, controlled rage barely held in check. He was ready to burn the world down.

And Ryan…

I glanced toward the door. Would it change anything between us? Would he still look at me the way he always had?

I stared at the ceiling as they did the kit.

"No signs of penetration," the doctor said. I felt a weight lifted off my chest.

"I want to go home now," I stated.

"The police are here and need to ask some questions," she said.

"I'm not answering any fucking questions, I want to go home now," I said louder.

The doctor hesitated, exchanging a look with the nurse before nodding. "I'll let them know."

I sat up too fast, my head spinning, but I forced myself to move. I needed out of here. The sterile walls, the bright fluorescent lights, the quiet pity in everyone's eyes—it was suffocating me.

The door cracked open, and Ryan stepped inside. His eyes met mine, searching, cautious, like he wasn't sure if I wanted him near.

"I'm taking you home," he said softly.

I swallowed hard and nodded. "Please."

He helped me off the bed, his touch gentle like I might break. Maybe I would. Maybe I already had.

As we stepped into the hallway, my father pushed off the wall. His jaw was tight, eyes burning with barely restrained fury. He looked at me for a long moment before exhaling sharply and pulling me into a hug.

I stiffened at first, then melted into it, the smell of leather and dust and home grounding me.

"How's Tate?" I asked, in all the whirlwind of everything, no one told me how he was.

"Tate's gonna be ok, he's at home with Monica," Dad told me.

"I'm sorry, Dad," I said, "I couldn't stop them. I tried but…" For the first time since I was taken, I started to cry.

Dad cupped the back of my head and held me tighter. "Ain't nothing to be sorry for," he said, his voice softer than I expected. "You did everything you could."

I buried my face against his chest, my body shaking as the sobs came harder. I'd fought. I'd tried. But in the end, I still couldn't stop them.

Ryan's hand settled on my back, grounding me. "You kept Tate safe," he reminded me. "You left a trail. You got us to you."

I sniffled, pulling away slightly to look at my father. His eyes, usually hard, held something else now—something I hadn't seen since I was a kid.

"I should've protected him better," I whispered.

Dad shook his head. "That boy is alive because of you." His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek.

I nodded wanting to believe him.

"They're dead, honey," my father told me, "you don't have to worry about them again."

"I told that asshole in the bolo tie you'd kill him," I said. My father killed him. And let him die a slow death in a field.

"Come on, sweetheart, let's get you home," he said.

Ryan's arm stayed around me as Dad led us out of the hospital. The Montana air was cold, but I barely felt it. I was too numb, too drained. The weight of everything still sat heavy on my chest, but knowing they were dead—knowing my father made sure of it—gave me some peace.

I leaned into Ryan as we walked toward the truck. "You're shaking, baby," he murmured, pulling me closer.

I exhaled shakily. "I think I just wanna sleep for a week."

"You can sleep all you want," he promised. "I'll be right there."

Dad opened the truck door for me. "We'll handle everything else. You just focus on getting better."

I nodded, climbing inside. I wasn't sure what better even looked like after this, but I knew one thing for sure.

I was going home.

—-

The sun was bright as we entered the gates of the Yellowstone. Dad helped me down from the truck and Ryan helped me up the porch steps. He stopped when he got to the door. Reluctantly releasing me.

"I need you with me," I told him, "Please, stay. I can't do this without you."

Ryan looked from me to my father, not knowing what the right thing was.

"Come on, son," my father told him, "you two have been making eyes at each other for years. You think there's something going on on this ranch that I don't know about?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Ryan's face before he huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head. "Guess the secret's out then."

Dad snorted. "Was never much of a secret."

Ryan's eyes met mine again, searching, making sure this was really what I wanted. I squeezed his hand. "Stay," I whispered.

That was all it took.

He nodded, slipping his arm around my waist again, steadying me as we walked inside. The house smelled the same—wood smoke, leather, something faintly warm and familiar—but it didn't feel the same.

Maybe it was me that didn't feel the same.

I swallowed hard, my throat still raw, and let Ryan guide me to the couch. He sat beside me, his fingers brushing lightly over my knuckles. The silence stretched between us, thick with everything that had happened, everything we hadn't said yet.

Dad cleared his throat. "I'll let the others know you're home."

I barely nodded before he disappeared down the hall.

Ryan stayed quiet, just watching me, waiting.

"I don't know how to be okay after this," I admitted.

His grip on my hand tightened. "Then I'll be here while you figure it out."

I groaned as I tried to stand up.

"What do you need?" Ryan asked.

"A shower, I need to wash this whole fucking nightmare away," I could still feel the stench of them clinging to my skin. My body groaned as I moved, "Can you help me upstairs?"

Ryan's eyes softened, his worry evident as he stepped closer. "Of course, baby," he said quietly, his hand reaching for mine.

He moved slowly, supporting me as I leaned into him, every step feeling like a battle. When we reached the stairs, he didn't hesitate to scoop me up in his arms, his strength a solid comfort.

"Got you," he murmured, holding me close as he ascended the stairs.

I buried my face into his chest, grateful for his warmth and presence, and the feeling of being safe again, even if it was just in this moment.

I swung the door of my bedroom open and stepped inside, closing it softly behind us. As the quiet settled around us, I couldn't help but realize that this was the first time Ryan had ever been in my space. I'd spent countless hours in his, a place that felt like home to me, but this—my room—was different. It had always been mine, my refuge. And now, Ryan was here, his presence suddenly feeling larger than it ever had before.

"Well," Ryan said, his voice filled with a teasing warmth as he glanced around the room. "I can see why you wanted to stay in the bunkhouse all this time, baby. Who needs all this space?"

I gave him a half-smile, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge, still trying to shake off the weight of the day. "Well, you were in the bunkhouse," I reminded him, a slight laugh escaping me as I leaned back. "So that's where I wanted to be."

Ryan's smile softened, his eyes never leaving me. He took a few steps into the room, as if settling in, his boots soft against the wooden floor. "Yeah," he said quietly, "guess I should've figured that out sooner."

I watched him for a moment, noting how he seemed to fill the room without even trying. It was almost like I could breathe easier just having him here, like this space wasn't just mine anymore—it felt like ours. And maybe, in a way, it always had been.

"You should've," I teased back, but there was an underlying tenderness in my voice, the kind that only seemed to surface when he was near.

Ryan met my gaze, his lips quirking up into a smile that made my heart do something funny in my chest. "You ready for that shower?" he asked, his voice dropping just low enough to make the words feel more intimate, more comforting.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice steady despite the emotions swirling inside me. "But only if you stay."

He stepped closer, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he reached out, his hand gently brushing mine. "I'm not going anywhere, baby," he murmured, leaning in just enough for me to feel the warmth of his breath against my skin.

I nodded, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over me, knowing that, for once, I didn't have to carry the weight of everything on my own. "Good," I whispered back, as if everything in that moment depended on him being there, in this room, with me.

"Bathroom is through that door," I told him, my voice softer now. I let him guide me through, feeling his presence steady behind me. The warm, comforting weight of him was like a constant reminder that I wasn't alone anymore.

I leaned against the bathroom vanity, my eyes drawn to the reflection in the mirror. For the first time, I really saw the aftermath of everything—the bruises that had only been whispers in my mind, but now they were a vivid, painful reality. I winced as I reached down to tug my shirt up over my head, the motion pulling at the rawness of my skin.

The bruises stretched across my sides and back like dark purple rivers, some of them already fading, others fresh and angry. I hadn't realized how bad it was until now. When I slipped off the hospital sweatpants, I caught sight of the bruising on my legs—deep, angry marks that ran like streaks of violence across my skin.

I stood there for a moment, breath catching in my throat. My hand lingered over the marks, almost as if I could erase them with just the touch of my fingers, but I couldn't.

I met his eyes in the mirror. His gaze was soft but steady, unwavering. I felt his presence behind me like a protective shield, and it was enough to make me lean back, resting against his chest.

His arms came around me instinctively, the warmth of his body wrapping around mine, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

"I'm with you, baby," he whispered into my ear, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "Always."

I nodded, the weight of his presence grounding me as he helped me undress. His movements were gentle, careful, as if afraid that any wrong move might cause me more pain. He slipped off his shirt and jeans, his body warm against mine as he guided me into the shower. The sound of the water rushing down around us was calming, a contrast to the storm inside my chest.

The heat of the water flowed over me like a shield, and I felt the tension in my muscles slowly begin to ease. But it was him—his steady hands, his presence—that truly brought me comfort. He stood behind me, holding me up, his touch soft but reassuring. I closed my eyes, letting the water cascade over my face, the warmth a small relief from the chill I'd been carrying for so long.

I could smell the mint and tea tree as he poured body wash into his hands, rubbing it between his palms before smoothing it over my skin. His touch was soothing, tender, and as he grazed his hands across my bruised body, I felt a ripple of warmth that had nothing to do with the water.

"Ok, this does smell better than mine," he whispered softly, the hint of humor in his voice like a small, delicate thread tying us back to something normal.

I couldn't help but smile, even though the bruises, the pain, were still there. His touch was like a balm, each stroke melting the tightness in my muscles, each careful movement a reminder that he was here—that we were here, together.

He worked his way across my shoulders, my back, tracing over the marks left by those men, as if trying to erase them with each touch. It didn't take away the hurt, but it eased it, bit by bit. His hands were gentle. He wasn't just washing away the dirt or the sweat; he was helping me wash away the weight of everything I'd been carrying.

I let myself simply be, trusting him to help me carry the burden, just as he had before, just as he always would.

He helped me wrap a towel around my body, his touch gentle as he guided me to the bed, ensuring I didn't sway too much. My muscles were still sore, but the warmth of the shower had done wonders to settle some of the tension. He paused, looking around the room as I pointed to the dresser.

"Top drawer," I said, my voice soft but teasing. "I'm giving you free rein to rummage through my panty drawer." I started to laugh, but a sharp pain flared in my side, making me wince.

Ryan's eyes softened, and he quickly grabbed a comfortable pair, carefully sliding them up my legs. His fingers lingered for a moment, and he murmured with a slight smirk, "This is the first time I've put them on you."

"When I'm better, you can help me take them off again," I whispered back, my voice laced with quiet confidence. My heart fluttered, even in the midst of everything that had happened. "Second drawer is pajamas," I added, nodding toward the next drawer.

Ryan pulled out a t-shirt, his eyes flicking to the fabric. A grin tugged at his lips as he said, "I wondered what happened to that."

I met his gaze with a small smile, "I was meaning to bring it back to you, but I liked having it." There was a pause before I added, "I've got some of your sweats in there too if you want them."

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and familiar, and for a moment, it felt like everything could go back to normal. Like the world wasn't so heavy.

"I think I'll borrow them tonight," he said, pulling me into his arms as he slid the shirt over my head. It wasn't just the comfort of the clothes that mattered. It was the way he held me close, his body warm against mine. It was the safety in knowing that, no matter what had happened or what was still to come, I had him by my side.

I lay on the bed, watching him with a quiet intensity as he slipped the sweatpants over his hips. His hair was still damp from the shower, droplets trailing down his neck, and his chest—still unbranded—was a quiet reminder of everything unspoken between us.

I couldn't help myself. "I thought you?" I asked, my voice tentative as I met his eyes, searching for something in them. Something I didn't know I was looking for.

Ryan's expression softened, and he shrugged as he climbed into the bed beside me. "There wasn't time," he said, his tone quiet, almost dismissive, but not in a way that closed me out. He just seemed to want to move past it.

I watched him settle beside me, and I felt a tightness in my chest. "You don't have to prove yourself to them for me," I murmured, turning my body slightly toward him. My fingers brushed against his, and I gave him a look that said everything I couldn't quite put into words. "If you do it, do it for you."

Ryan's eyes met mine, softening. He nodded, his fingers finding mine as he gave them a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry about it, baby," he whispered, the weight of everything easing just a little as he spoke.

I didn't know if I believed it yet, if he could truly separate the pressure of the brand from what he wanted, what we both wanted. But in that moment, with him here, beside me, I felt a little less alone in the storm.

—-

"You sure you want to ride out there today?" Ryan asked, "We're just finishing up the new barn. Nothing too interesting."

"I have to get out of this house," I told him as I slipped into a pair of jeans, "I've been cooped up here for weeks."

"I know but you're still sore," he said, "I don't want to see you get hurt."

"If you thought I couldn't ride," I slipped my arms around his waist, "You should have said something last night when I was riding you."

Ryan raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching into a smile despite himself. "That's completely different," he smirked, his hands resting on my hips as he leaned in, his face inches from mine. "I can't have you out there working too hard."

I could feel the heat of his breath, the teasing undercurrent in his voice, and I couldn't help but laugh softly, brushing my fingers over the side of his face. "It's just nails and wood, Ryan. I think I can handle that much." I gave him a playful kiss on the cheek before stepping back to finish buttoning my jeans.

"You don't have to do this," he said, a hint of concern still in his eyes, but I could tell he was giving in to the inevitability of my determination.

"I know," I said, my voice softening as I looked up at him. "But I need to feel like myself again. I've been stuck in this house, in my own head, for too long. I need to get my hands dirty. Besides," I added, a teasing glint in my eyes, "if I supervise, I might be able to make sure you're doing it right after all."

Ryan exhaled through his nose in a half-laugh, half-sigh, but I could see the affection behind it. "You're stubborn as hell," he murmured, pulling me into a tight hug. "But you've always been like that."

I nestled against his chest, feeling the strength in his arms, and the warmth between us that seemed to fight off the coldness that had been creeping into my bones the last few weeks. "And you love me anyway," I whispered.

"Don't think that means you get to manipulate me into giving in to you," Ryan replied, his voice steady and protective.

"That's exactly what that means," I dipped my hands in his back pockets giving him a playful squeeze, "Come on, cowboy, stop fighting me on this. You'll be there to keep an eye on me, make sure I don't break a sweat or anything."

He sighed, but his expression softened. "Fine," he said with a nod. "But I'm not letting you out of my sight for a second." He kissed the top of my head and gave me a last look of caution. "You still owe me a bit of pampering when this is all over, though."

I grinned up at him. "You know that sounds more like a reward for you, right?"

"Hey, I'll take whatever I can get," he smirked, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair. "Let's get to work, then. But I'm watching you every step of the way."

I laughed, following him out the door. "You wouldn't be anywhere else, cowboy."

The breeze felt good against my skin, the sun warm on my face as I guided my horse. It felt freeing to be out here again, riding, even if I had to be cautious. I knew Ryan wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I overdid it. We reached the site of the new barn construction, and I reluctantly allowed him to help me down from my horse.

"You know, I only let you help me so I can have your hands on me," I teased, giving him a sidelong glance.

Ryan grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. "I only help you because I get to put my hands on you," he shot back, pulling me closer with a smirk.

"Are y'all done making goo-goo eyes at each other?" Colby called from inside the barn. "We could use some help in here."

"All done," I called back, chuckling as I started to help Ethan with a crossbeam, but Ryan beat me to it, swooping in with that confident ease he always had.

"So what's wrong with the old barn?" Jimmy asked, leaning against a wooden post as he looked around.

"It's seven miles from this half of the ranch," Lloyd answered.

"Hey Lloyd," Jake called from the back, "What was that joke about the two fat chicks and the wheelbarrows?"

"That wasn't a joke, Jake," Lloyd responded dryly, "that was you at the Cooper branding."

The whole group erupted into laughter.

"I gotta joke, wanna hear it?" Jimmy asked, raising his hand.

"No," the boys said in unison, barely pausing to look at him.

"Alright, check it out. There's this big Texas oil guy, right? Goes into this bar down at the border," Jimmy started, "sits next to this vaquero and says, 'Hey man, you a rancher?' The vaquero says, 'Yeah, I got fifty acres down by the river.' Big Texas oil guy says, 'Oh, on my ranch, I can get in my truck in the morning, and I still won't make it to the gate by sundown.' Vaquero sits for a second, nods, and says, 'Yeah man, I used to have a truck like that too.'"

I chuckled at that. It was stupid, but it was just the kind of small thing I needed to hear after everything. A ridiculous joke from a half-green kid.

"That was almost funny," Colby teased, shaking his head.

"Alright, I got one," Ryan said, stepping up to lean against a post, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Y'all hear about the guy that goes to see a doctor, and the doctor says, 'Sorry to be the one to tell you this, but you got cancer head to toe. One week to live.' Man says, 'A week?! That's not enough time. What can I do doc?' Doc thinks and he says, 'I'll tell you what to do: You go find yourself a barrel racer girl with two little dogs. And you marry her.' And the man says, 'That's gonna make me live longer?' And the Doc says, 'No. But it'll make that week seem like a fuckin' eternity.'"

Everyone laughed, myself included, despite myself.

"Barrel racer girls?" I raised a brow at Ryan, feigning confusion. "What was that about barrel racer girls?"

Ryan just smirked and shook his head, looking me over. "Baby, you're a trick rider, a whole different animal," he replied, the playful tone matching my own.

"I think mine was funnier," Jimmy said.

"Jimmy, when you're all growed up and you've dated a woman, you'll find it funny," Colby laughed, throwing an arm over Jimmy's shoulder as the rest of the crew snickered.

Rip called from outside the structure, his voice cutting through the air, "Alright, y'all, we're done. Let's head up to the big barn."

I stepped out to find Kayce riding alongside Rip, looking as serious as ever. His eyes immediately flicked over to me, then to Ryan, suspicion written across his face. "I thought you were supposed to be taking it easy."

Ryan gave a helpless shrug. "Hey, man, I tried to stop her. She twisted my arm."

Kayce raised an eyebrow. "I doubt she had to do much twistin'."

"I'm fine," I interjected, brushing off his concern, "They didn't let me carry anything heavy. Hell, they didn't even let me use the hammer. I was ready to nail something." I gave Ryan a pointed look, adding a playful edge to my voice.

Ryan, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. "Well, since you're offering…"

I shot him a glare, hands on my hips. "I'm supposed to be taking it easy, remember?"

Kayce just shook his head at the back-and-forth. "Y'all are impossible."

"Lloyd, get those mules outta the field," Rip barked, his voice carrying over the chatter of the group. "We're running a spike camp this summer, understand?"

Lloyd gave a nod and turned to start rounding up the mules.

Jimmy, always quick to ask questions, raised his hand like a kid in class. "What's a spike camp?"

Rip glanced over, eyes narrowing slightly but not unkindly. "Spike camp's where we'll set up outside in the field during summer. We'll camp out there for a while, work on things that need done away from the ranch, keeping an eye on the cattle make sure they don't find anything they shouldn't eat out there."

"Sounds like a pain," Jimmy muttered, but there was a spark of excitement in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, it's part of the job," Rip replied, his voice low and serious. "And it ain't just a pain. It's a way to make sure the ranch keeps running smooth, even when we're far from home. So you better get used to it, kid. This summer's gonna be a long one."

—-

I leaned back into the couch, letting the warmth of the fire and the comfortable chaos of the room wash over me. The tension from the past weeks started to melt away. The laughter and teasing, the way everyone just carried on like nothing had happened—maybe that's what I needed. To be around people who didn't treat me like a fragile thing. To be reminded that life kept moving, even when everything felt like it was frozen in time.

Ryan passed me the bottle with a grin, his eyes still burning with that spark of mischief. He was always the first to throw himself into the fun, to make sure everyone else was laughing. I took a sip, savoring the burn that spread through me. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe again.

Ryan spun around the branding iron, as Colby counted ten turns. Ryan took off running across the bunkhouse. A second later, he was on the floor, Colby's lasso tight around his ankle, sending him crashing to the hardwood with a loud thud.

"Oh shit," I looked down at him, "you ok, cowboy?"

He laughed, as Jimmy and Colby helped him up off the floor, "I'm alright. Though I wouldn't mind if you kissed me and made it feel better."

I wiggled my finger, "Well come here." I smirked as he leaned in pressing his lips to mine, then plopped down on the couch beside me.

I couldn't help but laugh as he leaned back into the couch, grinning like he'd just won a prize. The warmth of his kiss still lingered on my lips, a familiar feeling that had always grounded me, even when everything around us was chaos.

"Well, now I feel better," he teased, his fingers gently brushing through my hair as he relaxed against the couch.

"You know, if I had known it would only take a kiss to fix you up, I'd have done it sooner," I smirked, settling in next to him.

"Guess you'll have to kiss me again just to be sure," he grinned, clearly enjoying every second of the playful banter.

"I might just do that," I replied, letting my fingers trace along his jawline. "But only if you promise to stay out of trouble for the rest of the night."

"No promises there," he chuckled, kissing me again, the warmth of it still burning long after his lips pulled away.

"Jimmy, you're up," Lloyd chuckled, his voice dripping with amusement.

"Okay, okay, okay, hold on," Jimmy grinned, taking a long swig from his beer bottle.

"You get bucked off shit for a living," I teased, "This should be easy for you."

"Take into consideration, you gotta have a brain to get it concussed," Colby chimed in with a sly grin, "So you'll be fine."

Jimmy smirked. "Hey bro, just try not to rope my dick. Your mom's gonna be pissed."

Colby's face went stone cold. No humor there.

Ryan laughed, leaning back. "That's funny."

Colby growled, "Give me the damn rope."

With that, Jimmy went tumbling to the floor in a heap, still grinning as he landed. "Your mom's gonna be really pissed."

"Alright, pretty boy, you're up," Jake called out to Jamie, a challenge in his voice.

"I'm good," Jamie said flatly, shaking his head.

"You're good?" Ryan raised an eyebrow, a playful grin tugging at his lips.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. "He doesn't have to if he doesn't want to. Don't succumb to peer pressure, Jamie."

"Come on, Jamie," Colby pushed, "You gotta pay your dues."

Jamie hesitated for a second, then stood up from the bunk. Grabbing the bottle from Ryan's hand, he took a long drink. "I really don't get the point of this, but alright, let's do it. On three, right?"

On three, Jamie spun and ran, but his foot caught on the floor, throwing him off balance. Ryan swung the rope, and with a perfect arc, it snaked around Jamie's torso, sending him crashing to the floor with a thud.

I jumped to my feet, rushing to Jamie's side. "You okay?"

Ryan immediately knelt beside him, his face full of concern. "I tried to get it around his waist so he wouldn't go down too hard," he said, defensively.

"Well, you sure fucked that up," Lloyd retorted, quickly checking Jamie's head for any injuries.

Ryan's face tightened. "Is he alright?"

Jamie shook his head, then let out a laugh. "Damn, that was worse than I thought. When's it my turn with the rope?"

The bunkhouse erupted in laughter, the tension easing with every chuckle.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rip's voice sliced through the air, sharp and annoyed. "And why the hell are you still awake?"

"Is it late?" Jimmy asked, squinting at the clock as if he had no idea.

"It's 3:30 in the morning," Rip spat, "Get a fucking watch."

—-

Ryan watched me saddle my horse, a slow grin spreading across his face. "You can always come out later. We'll be out there all summer."

I tossed him a playful look, fastening the cinch. "And let you have all the fun?" I gave him a sly smile. "It's camping, Ryan. Nothing too strenuous."

I met his gaze from atop my horse, raising an eyebrow. "At least not until you join me in my tent."

His expression shifted, that familiar spark of mischief lighting up his eyes. "Oh, you do make a good point."

"Stick that horse back in the barn," Dad ordered, his voice gruff as he gestured toward Jamie. "And move your gear out of the bunkhouse."

Jamie raised an eyebrow, "Where to?"

"To the lodge," Dad replied, not missing a beat. "I can't have the new livestock commissioner living in the bunkhouse."

I couldn't help the smile that tugged at my lips. Jamie had finally proven to Dad, and himself, that he was back on solid ground. It was good to see him take that next step, the one that made him feel like he truly belonged again.

Kayce rode ahead with the wranglers, his pace quick and steady, keeping the crew in line. To keep everyone content, I stuck with the slower pace alongside Lloyd and the wagon with my father. Tate, eager as ever, climbed into the shotgun seat, giving me a nod as he settled in. I returned the gesture, appreciating the quiet bond we shared. It was rare that we all felt so at ease, but in that moment, the world felt a little more like it used to be.

I tied off my horse, my gaze drifting toward Ryan as he set up my tent. A slow smile tugged at my lips as I watched the flex of his arms, the easy strength in the way he worked.

"I noticed you pitched my tent on the opposite side of camp from my father's," I mused, tilting my head.

Ryan smirked, glancing over his shoulder. "Your dad may know about us, baby," he said, driving the last stake into the ground, "but knowing and knowing are two different things."

"Glad you cleared that up," I gave him a look, as grabbed my bedroll and his and carried them inside the tent.

"What I mean is," he ducked inside the tent with me, pulling me close, smirking as he whispered in my ear, "I don't think you'd want him to hear all the noises you make when I buried inside you."

I arched a brow, feigning innocence as I spread out the bedrolls. "Oh? And what noises would those be?"

Ryan chuckled, the sound low and rough as he crowded me against the tent wall, his hands settling on my hips. "You know exactly which ones," he murmured, his lips grazing my ear.

Heat curled in my stomach, but I bit back a smirk. "You seem awfully confident, cowboy."

He brushed a slow, teasing kiss along my jaw. "Let's just say I've got a pretty damn good memory." His grip tightened just enough to make me feel it. "And if you're real quiet, maybe we won't wake the whole camp."

I hummed, letting my fingers trail up his chest. "Or maybe I want to see just how good you are at keeping me quiet."

"I have my ways," he murmured against my skin, "but I do enjoy all the noises you make. Especially the way you say my name when you're about to cum."

My arms slipped up and around his neck, my body pressed fully against his, "I thought you might like that."

"Ryan!" Colby's voice cut through the building tension, "come on man we gotta finish setting up the rest of camp."

"Go to work, cowboy," I told him, "You can make me call out your name tonight."

Ryan groaned, pressing his forehead against mine for a brief second before stepping back. His hands lingered at my waist, reluctant to let me go. "You're killin' me, baby," he muttered.

I smirked, reaching up to adjust the collar of his shirt. "Consider it motivation."

He exhaled a laugh, shaking his head. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"Always," I winked.

Colby's impatient voice rang out again. "Ryan! Move your ass!"

Ryan rolled his eyes, pressing one last lingering kiss to my lips before pulling away. "Tonight," he promised, his voice thick with intent.

I watched him walk off, the easy swagger in his step making my stomach tighten with anticipation. Smirking to myself, I settled into the tent, already counting down the hours until sundown.

While Ryan, Colby, and the others worked on setting up camp, I focused on making our tent as comfortable as possible. Just because we were roughing it didn't mean we had to suffer. I spread out the thick bedrolls, layering them with extra fluffy blankets and pillows—summer or not, I wasn't about to let a stray rock ruin the mood. Comfort was key, and a little effort went a long way, especially when the night stretched long and the company was as enticing as Ryan.

After smoothing out the blankets, I stepped outside and unfolded a two-seater camp chair, positioning it close to the campfire but far enough for a little privacy. The thought of curling up with Ryan under the open sky, firelight flickering against his easy grin, sent a pleasant shiver down my spine.

Satisfied with my work, I dusted off my hands and glanced over at Ryan. He was finishing up with the last of the tents, his shirt damp with sweat, muscles flexing as he tightened a rope. I bit my lip, watching the way his jeans hung on his hips.

Yeah, tonight was going to be good.

I strode over to the opposite side of camp, watching my father and Tate get settled in.

"Hey bud," I sat down next to him, "how are you doing?"

Tate sat in silence for a moment, stacking kindling on the campfire. The two of us had been through something together—something that still lingered in the quiet moments. I knew he was still adjusting. We both were.

"Do you still have nightmares, too?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I nodded. There were still nights I'd wake up in a cold sweat, heart racing, the walls closing in until I found Ryan beside me, his steady warmth grounding me back into reality.

"Sometimes before I fall asleep," I told him, "I like to think about all the things that make me happy."

Tate tilted his head, considering my words. "Like what?"

"Like riding my horse through the meadow," I said with a small smile. "Or remembering when your dad and I used to go swimming in the river as kids. Winning a rodeo, the way it feels when the crowd cheers."

He smirked. "That cowboy you like so much?"

I felt heat rise to my cheeks but didn't deny it. "Sometimes him too," I admitted. "But you know what happens when I think about all the good things?"

Tate shook his head.

"The bad dreams don't come as often," I said, my voice soft but certain.

He nodded, staring into the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in his thoughtful eyes. "Maybe I'll try that," he murmured.

I reached over and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You should. It helps."

For the first time in a long while, I saw a flicker of ease settle over him, just enough to let me hope that maybe—just maybe—we'd both find peace again.

"Sweetheart," my father's normally gruff voice softened as he approached from behind, "you get settled in?"

I turned to face him, nodding. "Yeah, Dad," I said, glancing out over the vast stretch of open land. The golden light of the setting sun painted everything in warm hues, casting long shadows over the camp. "I think this is what we need," I admitted, my voice quieter. "What we both need."

His gaze followed mine, taking in the familiar landscape, the same land that had shaped us, broken us, and somehow held us together. I fought against the sting in my eyes, swallowing the lump in my throat before it could take hold.

"I think I'm gonna go see what Lloyd has on the chuckwagon," I said, forcing a smile. "I'm starving."

Dad gave a small nod, understanding in his eyes. "Go on, then. Make sure he saved some for me."

I turned away, grateful for the excuse to put some distance between myself and the emotions threatening to surface. Maybe out here, under the wide-open sky, we could start to put the pieces back together.

I sank into my camp chair, the warmth of the stew in my lap comforting against the cool evening air. The Montana sky stretched endlessly above us, a blanket of stars flickering like tiny promises. Ryan's hand rested on my thigh, his touch grounding me in a way nothing else could.

"You doing okay, baby?" His voice was gentle as he pulled me from my thoughts. "You don't have to put on a brave face for me."

I turned to him, finding the quiet concern in his eyes. "I know," I murmured, my fingers brushing over his. "I'm doing better. I don't know if I could have made it through it without you."

His grip on my leg tightened just slightly, reassuring, steady. "Baby," he said, voice soft but firm, "I'm not going anywhere."

I nodded, knowing it was true. "You ready to take me to bed, cowboy?"

Ryan's grin was slow and knowing. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, gathering up our empty bowls and setting them aside.

Before I could move, his strong arms wrapped around me, lifting me effortlessly. My heart skipped a beat as he carried me toward the tent, the firelight casting flickering shadows across his face.

"Ryan," I murmured, looping my arms around his neck.

"Hmm?" he glanced down, his smirk never fading.

I brushed my lips against his ear, my voice a teasing whisper. "I think I like it when you carry me."

His grip tightened. "Good," he said, stepping inside the tent and kicking the flap shut behind us, "because I'm not putting you down anytime soon."

His hands ran slowly down my legs and tugged my boots off. He looked down at me as we settled on the bedding.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I'm trying to decide where I want to start with you," he smirked eyes dark as they scanned my body. His thumb grazed my lip, "Should I start here?" Then he slid his hand to my neck, ghosting his fingers softly over my flesh, "Or here," his fingers trailed lower, teasing the skin of my chest as he unbuttoned my shirt, "Or even here," he smirked as I reacted to his touch.

"Ryan," I groaned as he teased me.

Ryan chuckled, low and deep, clearly enjoying the way my breath hitched beneath his touch. His rough fingers traced lazy circles over my skin, igniting a slow burn everywhere they lingered.

"You sound impatient, baby," he murmured, pressing a teasing kiss just below my ear. "That bad?"

I swallowed hard, gripping the front of his shirt and tugging him closer. "You're doing it on purpose."

His smirk was pure sin. "Maybe."

His hands roamed lower, fingertips grazing the dip of my waist, the curve of my hips, setting every nerve alight. The anticipation coiled tight in my stomach, my body arching into him as I let out another breathless sound.

"Damn, I love that," he muttered, his voice husky. "You always sound so sweet when you want me."

"Then quit teasing me and do something about it," I challenged, my lips curling into a smirk of my own.

Ryan's eyes darkened, his grip tightening as he leaned in. "Oh, baby," he breathed against my mouth, "you have no idea what you just started."

"Please, just start," my words came out more needy than intended. My impatience growing as the fire of each light torturous touch edged me on.

"You know I'll take care of you," his lips danced over the tender spot on my neck. "But I like feeling you squirm."

Ryan's words sent a shiver down my spine, heat pooling low in my stomach. My breath hitched as he lingered at my neck, his lips barely ghosting over my skin.

"Ryan," I pleaded, my grip on his shirt tightening.

He chuckled, the sound vibrating against my throat. "Damn, baby," he murmured, "you're really that desperate for me, huh?"

I exhaled sharply, my nails digging into his shoulders. "You know I am."

His hands trailed lower, slow and deliberate, teasing every inch of me with maddening restraint. "I love hearing you beg," he admitted, his voice thick with desire. "Almost makes me want to drag this out longer."

I whimpered, pushing up against him, wordlessly demanding more.

Ryan groaned, his control slipping as he finally gave in. "Alright, baby," he whispered, his lips crashing against mine, "let's start."

"You are such a tease," I groaned against his lips, his hands moved to quickly unbutton the rest of my shirt and push it off my shoulders. His lips moved down my neck more determined than before. His fingers unbuckled my belt and popped the button of my jeans open. His hand slipping inside the waistband of my satin panties.

"I think you like it when I tease you," his fingers glided slowly over my folds, "you're already soaking wet for me."

A shuddering breath escaped me as Ryan's fingers traced agonizingly slow circles against my heat. My body arched into his touch, craving more, but he held me in place, his other hand splayed against my hip.

"You talk a big game," I managed, my voice shaky with anticipation, "but if you don't stop teasing, cowboy, I might just have to take matters into my own hands."

Ryan chuckled, the sound deep and full of amusement. "That so?" he murmured, his lips trailing lower, brushing over my collarbone. "Well, we can't have that, now can we?"

With one swift movement, he hooked his fingers around the waistband of my jeans and panties, tugging them down my thighs. His heated gaze met mine as he settled between my legs, a devilish smirk playing at his lips.

"Let me take care of you, baby," he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. "Nice and slow."

He pulled me closer to him, throwing my legs over his shoulders as he buried himself between my thighs. Groaning against my sensitive flesh as his lips and tongue danced over me. My fingers curled in his hair urging him to further. I could feel his smile against my flesh as I tried to push up against him. I needed more.

I let out a deep moan when he slipped his finger inside me, then added a second. Hooking them to reach the right spot. His lips circled my clit, sucking gently as his tongue grazed the delicate bundle of nerves.

"Ryan," I cried out, I couldn't make myself hold back, I didn't want to, he didn't want me to. My legs trembled around him, my body tightening with every stroke of his skilled fingers and flick of his tongue.

He pulled away, leaving me gasping and desperate for his touch. "You taste so good," he murmured, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at me.

I groaned, "I was there and you stopped."

"I know, baby," he muttered, his voice thick with his own need. Without a word, he slammed into me, filling me up and sending a shockwave of pleasure through my body. Our eyes locked as we found our rhythm, his hips moving in a steady beat that almost made the ground beneath us tremble.

My nails dug into his back as he picked up the pace, the pressure building inside me again.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice gruff with need. And just like that, I did. The orgasm ripped through me like lightning, leaving me trembling and gasping for breath.

But Ryan wasn't done. He kept moving, pushing me towards another peak, his own release drawing closer.

And then it hit me, a second orgasm that felt like it would never end. I screamed out his name, my body convulsing around him as he followed me over the edge, filling me up with his heat.

We collapsed together, our hearts racing, breaths mingling in the quiet of the tent. I rested my head against his chest, the warmth of his body grounding me as the aftershocks of our connection lingered.

"You're lucky I love you," I murmured, a playful smile tugging at my lips.

He chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through my hair as he pulled me closer. "Yeah, I'm pretty fucking lucky," he replied, his voice low and warm, his touch gentle.