#if he found one in the wilds of Montana

[guardian-of-da-gay]

Personal pet peeve: when people have Sonic Wachowski interacting with wild hedgehogs in Montana.

They do not live here!

[amor-ad-nauseam]

Somethin’ stupid

Pairings: Sam Winchester X reader

Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and in taking care of you, Sam reveals a hidden talent and maybe even some hidden feelings…

Word count: 2.1k

Tags; Sam and reader have a crush on each other, fluff, no use of y/n, Sam x fem!reader, carheartt!Sam

Requests are open

part two

You never realized just how cold it got in Montana until you were here, wrapped up in Sam’s carheartt with his hands on your waist.

Well, one of his hands was on your waist, the other was digging through the pocket of his jacket for the motel room key.

“Sorry,” Sam chuckled awkwardly as his hand accidentally brushed over the small gap of exposed skin between your jeans and top.

This is definitely not what you had imagined when you envisioned his hands on you.

“It’s fine, really,” you replied with that sweet consideration he adored.

His left hand fumbles uselessly between the two of you- desperately searching for the key. He was embarrassed, beyond embarrassed. You had gotten injured-stabbed in the thigh on a hunt when he should’ve been protecting you. On top of all of that now he now has you out in the cold because he can’t find a damn key.

He eventually manages to get the key between his fingers but much to his dismay he couldn’t quite manage to pull it from the pocket due to the precarious position the two of you were in: Your left arm swung around his shoulder, his right hand on your waist and his other wedged between the two of you.

Sam was far too kind to let you slip from his grasp, no matter how many times you told him you were fine. So, you take matters into your own hands. “Here, lemme just-“

You shift your weight to your injured leg, giving him just the right amount of room to fish the key out.

His smile of triumph quickly falters once he hears your hiss of pain. He instinctively tightens his grip, reeling you back into him and closing the gap between your bodies; Sending your heart beat racing.

There’s a stillness for the moment. You staring into his eyes and he into yours. Sam couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you looked in this moment. Your normally neat, pulled back hair now wild and lovely with the cool night wind whipping through it. Your cheeks and nose were this beautiful shade of pink from the cold and all he wanted to do was reach out and cup your divine face in his hands.

“Sam,” you say, your voice just above a whisper. You never realized just how much green was in those pretty hazel eyes.

He tries to speak but not a thought -well, not a thought aside from professing his love(which he thought to be a terrible idea)- comes to mind.

Instead he blinks, searching your face for something- anything. Even a slight muscle twitch that would let him in on what you were thinking.

“The door.”

“Right,” he nods, clearing his throat and breaking the moment. He felt so stupid.

As the key turns in the lock you mentally curse yourself. Why the hell did you say that? That was the worst thing you could’ve possibly said.

He helps you limp your way into the motel room, the whole time not daring to look at you. And you do the same.

“Come on, there ya go, atta girl.” Sam grunted, gently setting you down on the bed.

Aside from your royal fuck up a minute ago, maybe this whole thing (getting stabbed included) wasn’t too bad. After all, you did get to hear sam say “atta girl” and if you were being honest, you liked it.

While Sam went to go dig out the med kit from his duffle bag you found yourself zoned out staring at his muscular frame. His hair, god it was perfect. Whose hair looks that good after spending the better half of the night in an abandoned building? It was practically witchcraft.

“Last time we let Dean pick the motel,” Sam chuckled.

“Hm?” You questioned, Sam’s voice snapping you from your train of thought.

“The whole uh, “Wild West” theme,” He smiles, gesturing to a cowboy hat hung just past his head.

“Right,” you chuckle dryly. “Definitely not letting him pick again.” You hadn’t really noticed the room; you were a bit preoccupied.

“I mean seriously,” Sam said, sitting next to you. “Where’d they get all this stuff? Cowboy furnishings?”

You giggle at Sam’s joke and lay your leg in his lap. Wine colored blood had pooled at the epicenter of the make-shift bandage (the torn sleeve of Deans FBI suit.)

The room was just large enough to comfortably accommodate two queen sized beds, separated by a thin wooden divider. On the far end of the room there was a pull-out couch with a cowboy hat pattern dancing across the leather; that same pattern reflected on the small sofa chair across from the head of your bed.

“Wild West express?” You reply while looking around the room- not wanting to lay eyes on that nasty wound. Sam chuckled and you somehow find yourself right back where you started- staring straight at him. God, he was a sight for sore eyes. His smile was enchanting.

The room had this homely atmosphere, whether that was due to Sam’s presence or the warm lighting was a mystery to you. The lights seemed to perfectly reflect on his face, illuminating those stunning hazel eyes and giving his skin a warm honey glow.

While Sam worked on disinfecting your wound he replayed the scene over and over again in his head. You were right there, mere feet from him and yet you still got hurt. Sure you’ve been banged up worse, not to mention the other bruises all three of you sustained on this hunt alone. But this time, this time was different. You’d need stitches, the stab was a few inches deep and wide with jagged edges. He cringes as he threads the needle. This was his fault.

His eyes snap to your face after the first nonevent of the needle through your skin. Your jaw was clenched tight, eyes large and pointed toward the ceiling, attempting to breathe through the pain. Guilt fills him at the very sight.

“Should’ve drank.” You grunt out, your hand balling into a fist as your eyes squeeze as tight as a camera shutter. Your head falls forward, your wind-whipped hair forming a curtain over the sides of your face. Even in pain, somehow, Sam thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen all wrapped up in a brown carheartt.

“Almost done.” He says gently, tying a knot and cutting the thread.

You let out a hefty breath, throwing your head back against the bed frame and sinking into the mattress with relief.

Sam’s hand slips to the underside of your knee, gently raising it. “God-“ he breaths, the new angle allowing him a better veiw of just how bad it was. “If I was there I could’ve-“ he sighs. “I’m sorry.”

You tilt your head in a dog-like manner of confusion. “What? Sam, this isn’t your fault.”

The pain had mostly subsided, fading to a feeling of dull pressure - more uncomfortable than anything really.

“Regardless. You got hurt on my watch.”

“Sam, c’mon. Don’t be so hard on yourself,” you frowned. He was too sweet for his own good.

The both of you knew this was a losing battle. You had this conversation a dozen times over during the car ride alone.

Sam goes back to silently wrapping your thigh in gauze while you decide to let your eyes wander around the room. Eventually you land on a wooden guitar propped up against the sofa chair right across from you.

You gasp and before Sam knows it you’re on your feet foot, the roll of gauze dangling from your thigh.

“What are you-“ he calls your name in an exasperated manner. “I wasn’t-“

You spin on your heels and reveal yourself to be holding a guitar with a beaming smile on your face.

“Oh no- oh no no no no.” Sam shakes his head.

“Pleaseeeee,” you beg, giving him the most puppy-dog eyed look you can muster.

“That’s not going to work on me,” he grins. “Now c’mon, sit.” He pats the space next to him and reaches out to take your hand. “Gotta finish patchin’ you up.”

You fold your arms over your chest with smugness he knew all too well. “That’s not gonna work on me,” you replied, looking from him to the guitar.

“Dude, I haven’t played since like, college.” His hand falls limply to his lap with a sigh. “Now c’mere before you make me regret ever getting drunk around you.” Sam attempts to make his voice sound serious but fails to hide the smile on his face and the amusement in his voice.

“Oh please,” you said through laughter at his expression. He looked adorable trying to be serious. “Just one song.”

Your laughter, it was contagious. Being around you was like the best high. “No.”He laughs, and he doesn’t even know why. “Okay, okay, how bout this?” He adjusts his position a little, trying to shove down the laughter. “You let me finish bandaging you up and I’ll play one, and I mean one, song?”

“Orrrrr, you play a song and I’ll let you bandage me up.”

“You can’t be serious. y’know you run the risk of infection the longer you don’t let me wrap it?”

“Then you better get to playing guitar-boy”

You smile and simply hold out the guitar to him.

Slowly, a scheming grin spreads on his lips, his large hand grabs the guitar and your wrist in one fail swoop. He attempts to get you seated back on the bed again but you’re too quick.

“Ha! Not gonna get me that easy!”

You giggle as you slip from his grasp. He watches as you run off do this weird limp-hopping thing off into the bathroom, the unfinished gauze swinging from your leg like a pendulum.

If he really wanted, he could easily stop you but he was more interested in seeing where this would go.

A few years ago, while Dean was off flirting with the bartender, you and Sam were in the back of the bar like a couple of wall flowers.

That’s the night you started to look at him differently, to feel things for him differently. That’s the night you started to like him; and it only grew from there. Admittedly, you both had a bit too much to drink. You told each other things nobody else knew. During the conversation he talked about his college days; how he smoked weed a few times (you couldn’t stop laughing at this) and played guitar like a proper hippie. (This also, much to his dismay, made you erupt into drunken laughter).

“You alright in there?” Sam calls from the room.

“Y-yeah! I’m good.” You shout back. You quickly tie off the end of the bandage and waltz back into the room only to discover Sam in the sofa chair, guitar in his lap.

You press your hand to your chest and make a show of having an aghast expression. “Is that what I think it is? Sam Winchester! Strumming the guitar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes. “I’m just tuning it is all.”

“Uh huh,” you reply, packing up the first aid kit.

Sam’s fingers work the strings of the guitar, playing around with a few notes here and there, tuning, plucking strings. But at the playing of a few specific chords, your ears perk up in recognition.

You immediately race limp-jog? Over to the bed and perch yourself upon the edge. Sam smiles at your eager face.

“I figured one of us outta hold up our end of the deal.”

You just smile and shake your head.

And there you were. Staring into Sam’s eyes, doing a mixture of humming and singing along while he played your favorite song on guitar.

“…hmm hm hm… we pop into a quiet place and have a drink or two…”

He would hum and sing along with you, a slight hesitation every time the main part of the chorus would appear.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like-“

As if the lyric held far too much weight to sing.

“I love you…”

Eventually, you began to drift off. Sinatra always put you to sleep. He knew that. Sam’s eyes don’t leave you for a moment. You were reveire incarnate. Half asleep, head on a pillow and lazily humming along.

“…But then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin’ stupid like…”

Your chest slowly rose and fell with every soft slumbering breath. Warm lighting over your skin. Tranquil and mesmerizing as a sunset.

The lyrics come out a statement more than anything else. A truthful, unsung whisper.

“I love you.”

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that take place in a small town, rural area as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

🏡 I'll Fly Away by @juliusschmidt

(E, 122k, childhood friends) Harry and Louis grew up together in Lake County, Harry with his mom and stepdad in a tiny cottage on Edward’s Lake and Louis in his family’s farmhouse a few minutes down the road. But after high school, Louis stuck around and Harry did not

🏡 Tired Tired Sea by MediaWhore / @mediawhorefics

(M, 113k, lighthouse) As a B&B owner on the most remote of all the British Isles, Louis Tomlinson is used to spending the coldest half of the year in complete isolation, with his dog and the sea as sole companions. Until, one day, a mysterious stranger on a quest to rebuild himself rents a room for the winter.

🏡 Black with Autumn Rain by whimsicule / @baroness-elsa

(T, 93k, magical realism) Harry is a journalist, Louis has lots of secrets and the moors aren't exactly the ideal place to rekindle a lost romance.

🏡 Here In The Afterglow by fondleeds

(NR, 88k, historical) 1970’s AU. In a tiny town in Idaho, Louis’ life is changed forever by the arrival of a curious stranger.

🏡 ocean tides you home (series) by @justanothershadeofblue

(M, 88k, Eroda) Harry is a lonely and depressed popstar who sailed out of his hometown on Eroda years ago to chase his dreams. He comes back to the island only to find his shining childhood best friend Louis just as cold and dreary as the island they grew up on.

🏡 Into the Weeds by kair0sclerosis

(M, 87k, secrets) Following the whispered words of a stranger, Harry Styles finds himself in the small town of Peri Ridge. It’s a town nestled within overgrown forests, raging rivers, and ominous mountains- full of unkept secrets, the aura of freedom, and lost people seeking to be found.

🏡 (Take Me Home) Country Roads by Awriterwrites / @a-writerwrites

(E, 86k, Northern Exposure au) Louis as the big city doctor, Harry as a natural healer, Niall as a secretive barkeep, Liam and Zayn head over heels for each other but they don't know it and a lot of hurt, comfort and moonshine in between.

🏡 Full Moon Dreaming by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 43k, soulmates) Louis has given up hope of dreaming of a person, resigned to living a life devoid of that kind of all-consuming love for another and receiving the same in return. But when a new neighbour descends on Louis’ beloved Hanson Bay and moves into the other beach house, could all that be about to change?

🏡 The Things We Know To Be Wild by harryanthus_annuus / @harryanthus-annuus

(M, 39k, HTTYD au) Louis is a London zoologist sent by the University of Highlands and Islands to assess the safety of the island of Eroda as part of the Wonder Seekers Project for sustainable tourism.

🏡 Something About Liminal Spaces by @kingsofeverything

(E, 34k, age difference) Searching for inspiration for his latest book, and hoping distance will help heal his broken heart, Louis Tomlinson heads to the village of Piha on the west coast of New Zealand’s north island.

🏡 It's the Climb by @lululawrence

(NR, 25k, Hannah Montana au) Louis is a world famous punk rock singer with a stage name of William and Jay drags him back to Tennessee for the summer.

🏡 It's Coming on Christmas by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(G, 23k, girl direction) When Harry Styles gets a call from the caretaker of a bakery in a small town in Vermont, she jumps at the chance to get out of Boston and run her own shop.

🏡 Naked & Proud by kiwikero / @icanhazzalou

(E, 18k, songwriter Louis) In which Harry runs an organic store, not a nudist colony, and Louis doesn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.

🏡 Between the forest and the field by bluegreenish / @greenblueish

(E, 16k, meet cute) the one where Harry recently moved to a village and his shy dog picks Louis' dogs to play with at the dog park. A fluffy cottage core AU.

🏡 Won’t Let You Down by noellehenry / @noellehenry-original

(M, 15k, inheritance) In a matter of weeks, Harry’s world turns upside down. Suddenly he’s the owner of a farm and B&B, gets involved in illegal trading of unlabeled bottles and has to deal with his everlasting crush on his sister Gemma’s best friend, who has returned to Woodville…

🏡 You Tilted My Hand by @taggiecb

(G, 12k, photographer Harry) Harry Styles arrives in Avonlea, Prince Edward Island for his first day of a coveted and prestigious summer internship at the Avonlea Chronicle. He's quick to realise that he's out of place in the little band of journalists as he's an art major and they didn't choose Harry to be part of the team!

🏡 Babe, There's Something Lonesome About You by patdkitten / @babyarcanacasey

(M, 8k, witch Louis) Louis is a hedge witch, who lives a lonely, solitary life. He's quite happy with his shop in Door County, selling New Age magics to the tourists. 

🏡 Warm Chilling by Larry_you_know / @larryyouknow

(G, 7k, neighbors) Louis moves into a cosy cottage in the English countryside with his dog Clifford to look after his great-aunt's animals.

- Rare Pairs -

🏡 Grundy County Incidents (series) by @haztobegood

(T, 10k, Harry/Louis/Nick Grimshaw & Zayn/Liam & Niall/Greg James) 25 years, 7 friends, 3 relationships, 1 rural county

🏡 Something Good (And I Don't Just Mean Your Chips) by sunsetmog / @magicalrocketships

(T, 9k, Harry/Nick Grimshaw) Nick's uncle's will left his seaside cottage, his fishing boat, and all the contents of both to Nick. Coming off the back of months of very poor life choices, a brand new start in a Yorkshire seaside village seems the last remaining option for Nick

[bullet-prooflove]

Wedding Bells: Lee Dutton x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @queenslandlover-93 @newyorkrican922 @bryandechartisasmolbean @lovethis-lovethat @goblinenby @foxfables @solar-raccoon

Companion piece to

Wild Bloom

A Boy from Bozeman

The Worry Doll

Wild Fire

Experiance (NSFW)

Blind Date

Fire Wood

Lee Dutton is getting married.

He’s standing in the church in the middle of town with his hands clasped in front of him as he watches you walk down the aisle towards him. You’re clad in a white, A-line maxi dress that flows in the breeze from the open door. You’re carrying a small bouquet of wildflowers in your hands, the colours matching those in the field where you made love for the first time. It’s that attention to detail that he loves, that you’ve brought an aspect of your history to the ceremony.

“You look beautiful.” Lee says as you stands across from him, his hands holding yours in front of the priest.

“And you look very handsome in Jamie’s blazer.” You tease and Lee’s cheeks flush because that’s the very first time in his life he’s been called handsome.

It’s when he slips the ring on your finger that everything just falls into place. Lee, he’s never been happy before, not truly. He’s always put everybody else before him, catered to their needs but right here, right now he’s exactly where he’s meant to be, where he should have been twenty years ago, standing in a church, making you his wife.

It's when you step outside, your hand clutched tightly in his that you find the biggest surprise. One of the Yellowstone trucks is parked against the curb, a ‘Just Married’ banner strung across the back. There’s strings of pastel coloured pom poms tied to bumper, along with a couple of cans resting on the asphalt.

“You said you wanted people to know you were off the market.” Kayce says, shrugging his shoulders and Lee can’t help but smile because Kayce, he knew exactly what he was doing when he selected this truck.

It’s a loud, bold statement that’s about to be talked throughout Montana.

Lee holds open the truck door for you, helping you get settled inside before he closes the door and turns to face both his brothers. The two of them had pulled out all the stops over the past couple of days, Jamie rushing through the marriage license and taking care of the logistics such as the church and the rings. Kayce, running interference so that no one at the ranch would figure out what they were up to.

“A little bit of rebellion looks good on you.” He’d said when Lee had told the two of them he was getting married.

“Thank you.” He says sincerely as he strips out of Jamie’s blazer and hands it back to him. “I know I put you in a difficult position with dad and you really stepped up. I can’t say how much I appreciate that.”

“You know he’ll be waiting for you when you get back.” Jamie says, folding his blazer over his arm. “I’d be surprised if he wasn’t already at the farmhouse sitting on the porch.”

“Then it’s a good thing they’re not going back to the farmhouse for a few days.” Kayce says, gesturing to the bags in the back of the pickup. “I’ve saddled up Dolce, she’ll be ready to ride once you get to the trail. I’ll pick up the truck later return it to Yellowstone so you don’t have to worry about anyone tracking you down up there.”

“Did you…” Lee begins and Kayce cuts him off.

“Everything’s set up, Monica and Tate were just adding a few finishing touches when I left. They should be gone by the time the two of you get up there. You’ll have the next three days to yourselves before you have to come home and face the music.”

Lee has no illusions about what he’s coming back to after his impromptu honeymoon. His father is going to be terse, angry and a little sad too. If they had a normal relationship, if Lee didn’t think that he’d try to talk him out of it, they could have done this proper. Instead it had been a secret ceremony witnessed by his two brothers because he’s been terrified his father would have found some way to stop it.

“You need to get going.” Jamie says, interrupting his thoughts as his phone begins to buzz. His father’s name pops up on the screen and he silences it before putting it back into his pocket. “It looks like the news just broke that you’re not Bozeman’s most eligible bachelor anymore.”

“I’m leaving that title to you now.” Lee says, clapping his hand on Jamie’s shoulder before he climbs inside the truck.

He starts the engine and the vehicle roars to life before he pulls away from the curb, the cans clattering against asphalt as the two of you drive towards your future.

Love Lee? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

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[lilydalexf]

🌲👽 X-Files Survival/Wilderness Fic Recs

Here are some very good X-Files survival or wilderness fics. Because @thatsaprettycoolposter and @pookie-mulder asked! This list does not include post-colonization fics, which are also all survival fics of a sort. Enjoy!

Alligator Moon by jordan big monster in swamp attacks FBI agents

Antidote by Rachel Howard and Karen Rasch Strange doings in a tiny western town bring Mulder and Scully out to investigate. Once there, they uncover a deadly experiment that may cost both of them their lives.

Backtracking by Kel and Scetti What do Charlie Scully, the Alien Bounty Hunter, and Jesse "the Body" Ventura all have in common? Last April you could have found all three of them in Minnesota.

By the Wind Grieved by Karen Rasch Months have passed and Mulder is back. But things are not as they once were. He doesn’t know who he is or what Scully and he are to each other. Together they must reclaim the past before their enemies take away their future.

A Cabin in the Woods by @leiascully Mulder and Scully, on the run, stay for a while in a cabin in the mountains in Montana. A series of interlacing vignettes.

a cabin in the woods by @monikafilefan Being stuck in this rustic cabin, clearly left to age among the wilderness had Scully feeling wild herself, and it felt as if their bodies danced to an ancient song among the elements.

Camping by Amperage and Livengoo Fox Mulder and Dana Scully have survived abductions, serial killers, mutants and aliens but the Partner Cooperation Program Wilderness Encounter may finally do them in. After poison ivy and catfish, who wouldn’t long for a nice, safe killer mutant?

A Change of Seasons by Jo-Ann Lassiter A search for a mythical beast in the woods of Pennsylvania takes an alarming turn for the worse when Mulder's minor in ury escalates into a life-threatening disease.

Changing Tides by QofMush Who says change is all bad?

Circumnavigation by Suzanne Schramm Sometimes you don't know where you're going until you get there.

Coming Back by Karen Rasch Mulder gets a call from Mrs. Scully, who fears for Dana's safety. Following her instructions, he tracks his partner to a cabin in the mountains where he finds that she does indeed need his help. Memories of her time away have come back with a vengeance. (Sequel: The Calm After The Storm)

Dark Water by Suzanne Schramm Prehistoric insects. Mothmen. Now it’s a publicity-shy tribe of murderers. Just another nice trip to the forest with Mulder.

Falling Snow by Snark Mulder, Scully and a mysterious woman from Mulder's past crash in the snowy landscape of the Colorado winter.

Frozen by @dashakay The end of a case, and a stay in a log cabin during a blizzard, lead Scully to take the biggest risk of her life.

Last Chance Falls by @slippinmickeys A man. A women. A forest. A hit squad. An adventure.

The Lost by Wintersong Mulder and Scully are trapped in the remote wilderness and the art of surviving was not what they expected.

Old Growth Forest by Andrea Mulder and Scully investigate the disappearances of homeless people in Madison, Wisconsin and seemingly end up suffering the same fate.

A Path of Salt by Analise Mulder ditches Scully yet again to help an old friend in the Park Service. But Scully has never been one to sit and wait.

Tam Lin by Pequod When your local young men disappear, only to turn up dead a year later, sometimes it helps to have friends in high places. Myth and murder combine in a remote Scottish village, and Mulder and Scully investigate. The Fairy Queen is out to revenge the loss of her most prized knight, Tam Lin. Mulder believes but Scully’s not so sure, until Mulder takes a walk in the woods.

Tempest by Missy Pennington Mulder and Scully survive a plane crash to find themselves injured and stranded in the Appalachian wilderness. (Sequels: Distance, Wild Places, and Escape Me Never)

Untitled by @o6666666 Prompt: Mulder takes Scully camping and they make love for the second time ever under the stars.

Waiting in Motion by mountainphile After leaving the hot spring (in "Miraculous Manifestation"), Scully and Mulder take an unexpected detour on the way home. Dark secrets emerge when they seek shelter in a raging storm...and an intriguing X-file rears its head... (Sequel: Signs of Life)

Way Through the Woods by Pellinor and Rebecca Rusnak Three months ago, someone noticed something unusual about Scully. Now, in a desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, Mulder has disappeared, and Scully’s only chance of finding him include an unlikely ally and an untrustworthy informant. As they make their way through the woods, can Mulder and Scully find each other, or is the future lost?

[avastrasposts]

Big Sky Country - ch. 6

Chapter 6 is here and since we left Frankie on his way back to the ranch in Montana, and Aisling still in New York, how are they going to work this out after the way they left it?

Summery: Cowboy Frankie returns to New York to work things out with his 'maybe girlfriend' Eva. But he also makes a connection with another woman, who makes this lost cowboy feel welcome in her Brooklyn bar.

Series Master List

Warnings for the whole series can be found here

“You’re the only one who makes my mind as quiet as the prairie.” 

His parting words remained with her but Aisling didn’t expect Frankie to bury himself so deep in her head. Heartbreaks, guys ghosting her, cheating on her, it had all happened before, apparently she had a knack for picking the losers. But it never took her long to get over them, a week or two of being a bit down, nothing a night out with friends couldn’t fix. 

With Frankie, it had been twelve fucking weeks. Three months of her mind drifting to him whenever there was a slow moment at work, getting annoyed when someone sat in ‘his’ spot at the bar, dreaming about him almost every night. 

Jenny noticed and tried pulling her out of it, taking her to their favorite BBQ place, sitting at long trestle tables, laughing at the ridiculous mason jars the drinks were served in. But then Jenny left for the rest room, and Aisling’s eyes drifted to the Texas flag hanging on the wall and then he was back in her head. 

“You could just call him, you know,” Jenny said, sitting down opposite Aisling and handing over another mason jar of lemonade spiked with bourbon, seeing where her friend’s mind was at. 

“Why would I do that? To get fresh material for the delusion living in my head?” Aisling snorted, shaking her head. 

“To get him out of your system, ask him to come back here, or better yet, go see him. You’ve never been out of the city. Go see Montana.” 

“Jenny, now you’re being the delusional one, how would seeing him again get him out of my system?” 

“I just think, the way you talk about him-” 

“I don’t talk about him,” Aisling interrupted, almost slamming her drink down on the table at the very notion. 

“I hate to break it to you, Ash, but you talk about him almost every day,” Jenny raised her eyebrows, daring Aisling to challenge her. “Only last night at the bar, you said Frankie would like that new beer we’re stocking.” 

“That was just an observation, I wasn’t talking about him.” 

“And when we had lunch on Thursday you told me the story about how he delivered a foal all by himself.” 

“There was a nature documentary about wild horses on the tv!” Aisling protested, “It was an interesting story!”

“You’d already told me that story twice,” Jenny said, “And I’ve known you for over twenty years, never, ever, have you talked about horses. I don’t think you’ve ever even been near a horse.” 

“I have,” Aisling objected, “Remember when Jules worked selling tickets for the horse carriages by Central Park? We used to hang out there and bug her the whole summer.” 

“Doesn’t count. And the point stands; you talk about him almost every day, he’s clearly still on your mind and you need to get him out of your system. Or move to Montana. Whichever one seems easiest to you.” 

“Maybe she just needs to get laid? I volunteer.” 

The voice of a man a few years younger came into the conversation as he sat down next to Jenny, grinning at Aisling. 

“Fuck off, Pete,” Aisling snapped, rolling her eyes at the blonde man. 

“Shut up,” Jenny said at the same time, digging her elbow into Pete’s ribs, making him wince, “This is serious, Aisling is going to be pining over this cowboy for the rest of her life if we can’t figure out how she’ll get over him.” 

“I’m not moving to Montana, and I can’t call him, I don’t have his number,” Aisling said and downed the last of her drink, scowling at Pete’s unwelcome addition to the table. 

“You can actually call him,” Jenny replied, fishing a folded piece of paper from her tote bag. “I got it from the trash after you threw it away. Just in case, you know.” 

She smoothed out the paper and pushed it over the table to Aisling, who looked down at it without touching. There, on the wrinkled page from the bar’s notepad, in Frankie’s neat handwriting, his name and number, Francisco Morales. 

Seeing his name, in his writing, suddenly made her throat close up and she blinked a few times. 

“Just call him,” Pete said, “I don’t really want to have sex with you, so calling him is clearly the only option.” 

Aisling rolled her eyes at Jenny who swatted his arm. 

“Fuck off, Pete.” 

Aisling looked down at the paper again and pushed herself to her feet. 

“I’m over him. And I’m not moving to Montana. I’ll just hang out with Ben and Jerry until this blows over, as usual.” 

Jenny sighed, took the paper and folded it up again, leaned over the table and stuffed it into the pocket of Aisling’s jacket. 

“Just in case, if there’s an emergency and you need someone to deliver a foal or something,” she said, giving Aisling another look that meant ‘Don’t you fucking dare throw that piece of paper away’. 

“Fine, whatever, see you tomorrow,” Aisling replied, giving them both a wave as she left the restaurant. 

The piece of paper burnt a hole in her pocket on the way home and she tucked it out of sight between the pages of a book as soon as she could.

Out of sight, out of mind

When the bus dumped him outside the gas station on the outskirts of Big Sky, Frankie drew a deep breath of relief. He never thought he’d feel so light just seeing the prairie in front of him as the bus pulled away. He stood several minutes just staring at the rolling plain and the sky above until the honk of a horn behind him pulled him out of his reverie. 

Herb waved at him from his truck, right on time as usual and Frankie hoisted his bag up on his shoulder and crossed the road. 

“Hey, man, admiring the view?” 

The older man greeted him with a grin as Frankie slid into the passenger side of the truck. 

“Hey, Herb, yeah, good to be back,” he replied, sinking back in the seat and rubbing a hand over his face, “Long fucking journey.”

“How was New York? You were gone a while, wasn’t sure you’d come back.” 

Herb knew most of his history with Eva, Frankie had told him things were over between them when he got back from New York last time. And he was smart enough to guess that Frankie’s sudden departure five weeks earlier had something to do with her too, even though Frankie hadn’t told him exactly why he was leaving. Frankie usually made a point of being as truthful as possible with Herb, but when Eva called, he’d chickened out

Now Frankie sighed as Herb put the truck in drive and pulled out from the gas station. 

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure either,” Frankie replied, “Eva called to tell me she was pregnant, that’s why I Ieft.” 

“Pregnant?” Frankie could see Herb’s eyebrows rise from the corner of his eye, “How did you feel about that?” 

Typical Herb question, always asking how it made him feel. Frankie almost chuckled at the older man but it just came out as a strangled snort and he rubbed a hand over his face again. 

“Scared, hopeful, nervous, petrified,” he shook his head, “fucking terrified. But it’s over, she had an abortion, I’m not gonna be a dad.” 

“That why you came back?” 

“It’s a long story, and it might need a beer or two for the details,” Frankie replied, “but yeah, things got messy, she had the abortion without telling me about it, I got involved with another woman, she found out I had a girlfriend, Eva found out I’d cheated, I stayed to make things right again, but in the end, it wasn’t going to work.” 

Frankie leaned his head against the back of the seat and closed his eyes briefly as Herb turned down the smaller road that led back to the ranch.

“That’s a lot for just five weeks, but tell me about it when you’re ready, Frank,” Herb said, glancing over at the furrow between Frankie’s eyes. 

“I don’t think there’s more to tell,” Frankie shrugged, “New York kicked my ass, and I’m more sure than ever that I can’t live in a big city.” 

“Any regrets?” Herb asked and Frankie knew what he meant, Herb was asking if he’d used any drugs while he was there.

Frankie shook his head, “No, not in that way, I was tempted but I stayed away from it, I know it would only make things worse.” 

“Not in that way?” Herb looked over at Frankie again, “What do you regret?” 

Frankie looked out through the passenger side window and sighed, the memory of Aisling filling his mind. She hadn’t been far from his thoughts much in the past two days, constantly at the forefront of his mind as he debated his decision while stuck on the endless bus ride. 

“That I fucked up, hurt someone else again,” he said, “I should’ve walked away but the need to make myself feel good first…I couldn’t resist.” 

“The other woman?” Herb asked and Frankie nodded, guilt creeping into his chest. 

“She’s…she’s great, fucking amazing…” Frankie shook his head, self-deprecation creeping into his voice, “she works in a bar, I ended up there on my first day back, and she just…fuck…It felt like she saw me but it sounds so pathetic when I say it.” 

“But that’s what it felt like?” Herb recognised the turbulent emotions on the face of the younger man, “like she saw you, and not just some stranger in a bar?” 

“Yeah, like she saw something else than everyone else sees, not the addict or the ex-soldier with a bunch of issues, or the miserable fuck who has to live away from everything to keep his shit together.” 

“Take a step back, Frankie,” Herb said, putting his hand on Frankie’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze to pull him out of the spiral, “Those things are not you, they don’t define you. They are issues you need to deal with, but they are not who you are.”  

Frankie nodded, taking a deep breath, “She made me feel like that, like that stuff doesn’t define me. She didn’t know about it all, I didn’t tell her, but…I don’t know…” Frankie trailed off, trying to figure out how to put into words how someone who didn’t know him, could make his head so peaceful. “She just…made it feel…right?” He shook his head, “I don’t know Herb, I can’t get my head around it, she made me feel peaceful, my head was quiet when I was with her and I craved it.” 

“It must’ve been hard to resist being around her if she had that effect on you, especially in the city,” Herb replied and Frankie nodded. 

“I never should’ve gone back to the bar after the first time, but shit…” Frankie trailed off again and Herb glanced over at him as the truck bounced over the last mile of dirt road up to Frankie’s cabin. He pulled up in front of it and killed the engine. 

“Are you staying in touch with her? The other woman?” he asked, and Frankie shook his head. 

“Na, I fucked up, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. I told her I was leaving though, so that’s it, I’m out of her life.” 

“Take it as a lesson Frankie,” the older man said, putting his hand on his shoulder again, “Take it as a lesson and learn from it, even though you feel like shit about it now. Maybe you’ll find your way back to her some day, or maybe you’ll find someone who makes you feel the same as she did. Either way, when that day comes, make sure you’ve learned from your mistakes and don’t repeat them. Be honest to yourself and to those around you. That's all you can do.” 

Frankie nodded and put his hand over Herb’s on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze, “Thanks man, I needed to hear that. I already know it, but I needed to hear it.”

He pushed the door to the truck open and raised his hand in a wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow, thanks for the ride.” 

“Miranda is cooking you dinner tomorrow, you can’t say no,” Herb grinned and Frankie gave him a quick thumbs up. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, I know she’s fed up with your conversation topics,” He grinned at Herb and closed the truck door. 

Out of sight, out of mind.

That's what she'd thought, but no such luck. It was like knowing that she had a way to contact him made the intrusive thoughts even louder. Not even the loud noise in the bar that evening could drown them out. She sighed loudly as she called dibs on dishwasher duty and took a stack of glasses into the back. The murmur of the guests, the low bass of the music, it was muted back here and she took a moment. Leaning her forehead against the warm metal of the industrial dishwasher hood, she closed her eyes. 

Frankie’s face drifted into her mind and she remembered what he’d said about the noise, how it grated on his ears. She’d never thought about the noise of the city like that before. To her it was just a constant buzz in the background, a comforting hum that let her know that she wasn’t ever truly alone. But Frankie hadn’t felt that, and the way he talked about the quiet of the prairie, of where he lived in Montana, made her long for that kind of silence.

“Makes my mind go quiet and it makes me calm, it’s easier for me to live with myself out there.” 

For the first time she thought she might understand what he meant, she felt like she wanted to sit in a quiet room and just sort through her thoughts, like sorting a bookshelf. What to keep, what to throw out, what should she read next? 

What should her next step be? All she knew was that living with Frankie as a constant distraction in her head wasn’t going to work. 

With a groan she pushed herself upright again and went back to the bar. A woman snapped her fingers at her as soon as she opened the door, snapping and waving for her to come over. 

“Excuse me, miss? Miss?” she called while Aisling made her way over to the table. 

“How can I-” 

Aisling didn’t even get to finish her question before the woman was talking over her. 

“I had this wine, in a bar over on India Street, it was red, from Bulgaria I think, maybe Romania. Do you have anything like that?” 

“No, sorry, we don’t have any wines on the menu. We only have beer, but we have some re-” 

“You don’t have any wine?” The woman interrupted her again and Aisling forced her customer service smile to stay put, her cheeks aching. “What kind of a bar doesn’t serve wine?” She looked over at her laughing friends, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “You’ve got to have something? Can’t you go to the bodega, or like the bar next door and buy a bottle?” 

“The owner of the bar has decided to specialize in beer only, but we do have some very light, fruity beers that are almost wine-like, if you’d like to try one?” 

The woman pursed her lips and looked like Aisling just deeply offended her, but then she shrugged, waving her hand in Aisling’s direction as she turned back to her friends. 

“Sure, whatever, just get me something to drink.” 

Aisling gritted her teeth into a smile, “Ok then, coming right up,” and turned back to the bar. She grabbed the Belgian beer and sent the runner over to the table with it, before she got back to serving the line of patrons at the bar. 

The bar got louder and rowdier as the evening moved on, and both Jenny and Aisling had to dodge unwelcome advances from tipsy customers. Jenny slapped away the hand of a man who reached across the counter in an attempt to hook a finger into her neckline, shouting abuse at her as he spilled his drink in the process. Aisling stepped in and chewed him out, getting the bouncer to bar him, to loud protests from his equally drunk friends. 

The whole vibe was in itself not unusual, a regular Saturday night, but Aisling felt her patience running thin, impatiently snapping at any man who got too close. The table with the rude woman left and Aisling cursed under her breath when she saw that they’d left no tip, scooping up the exact change from the table. 

The final straw came when she was collecting glasses towards the end of the evening, the bar crowd thinning out as people went home or on to some club. A man stumbled from the rest room as she bent forward over a table to retrieve a glass. As he walked behind her, he grabbed her hips and grinded his groin into her ass, groaning loudly and whooping. She pushed back, making him stumble backwards into the wall, and he cursed loudly as his head made sharp impact with wooden slats. 

“Fucking bitch!” he yelled, grabbing the back of his head, “What the hell is wrong with you?” 

“Keep your fucking hands off me!” Aisling snapped back at him, getting ready to kick him in the balls if he tried advancing on her. The drunk man took one stumbling step forward, rage across his features, but was halted by Mickey, the owner, holding up his hands in front of the man in a placating gesture. 

“Sir, please, the next drink is on the house, I apologize for her behavior,” he said, attempting to usher the man away from Aisling and towards his friends at a nearby table. 

“She fucking assaulted me,” the man protested, “I want her fired.”

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Mickey!” Aisling spluttered, “He was dry humping my ass and you’re giving him a drink on the house?!”

“Fucking fire the bitch!” the man yelled as Mickey ushered him towards his friends who were waving at him to join them. 

“I’ll talk to her,” Mickey assured him, snapping his fingers at Jenny to bring over another beer. 

“Mickey!” Aisling protested, and he rounded on her, hissing as he got up in her face. 

“It’s part of the job, Aisling, just brush it off. Your attitude is bad enough as it is these days, making a scene isn’t exactly helping your case. Or your tips.” 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Aisling blurted, “You’re telling me you’re fine with a guest grabbing my ass and dry humping just so that we can get more tips? Why don’t you just hire a prostitute?!”

“Now, listen, Aisling-” 

“No, you fucking listen!” Aisling snapped, her temper getting the better of her as she felt the injustice of the whole fucking night fuel her rage. “Fuck that guy, and fuck you for taking his side, fuck your bar and your stupid fucking overpriced pretentious beer.”  

Aisling threw the rag she’d been holding on the floor as Jenny stared at her from across the bar, as did pretty much everyone else. But Aisling was too furious to care, and she didn’t even register Mickey yelling at her as she stormed through the back door. Cursing she wiped at the tears that welled up, she hated how she always cried when she got mad, and grabbed her bag and jacket. She was outside in the back alley before she’d even gotten out of her uniform shirt, and with an angry growl she ripped it off, buttons bouncing over the ground. She pulled her own shirt from the bag and yanked it over her head as the back door opened. It was Jenny, her eyes wide as she glanced back over her shoulder. 

“Mickey’s livid, I think he might really fire you this time,” she gasped, “Come back in and apologize, please!” 

“No fucking way, I quit, I’m fucking done,” Aisling replied, tugging her jacket over the t-shirt as she started to walk away down the alley. 

“Aisling!” Jenny called after her, nervously looking between the door to the bar and Aisling’s retreating back. “Aisling! I’ll call you tomorrow! I’ll get him to not fire you, ok?” 

The interior of the cabin smelled stale and musty as Frankie pushed open the door. Leaving it open, he dumped his duffel bag on the nearest chair and went to open the windows and let the clean air inside. The smell of the prairie drifted in on the draft and he inhaled again, it smelled like home in a way he’d never felt anywhere else. A little it reminded him of his childhood back in Texas, but mostly it just reminded him of life here. 

He sank down on the couch and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He should shower, should heat up a can of something for dinner, but he just needed to relax for a minute. A coyote barked from somewhere outside and Frankie pushed himself off the couch and went to the front door, sinking down on the porch swing. The night in front him was dark but he could make out the shadows as his eyes got used to the faint light. 

The coyote barked again, and Frankie heard the underbrush rustle as a startled rabbit scurried away. He relaxed back against the wooden slats and kicked it into a slow swing. The sky above him was sparkling with stars and out of habit he found the North Star, a constant in the northern hemisphere, it had helped guide him many times. 

The coyote yapped again, closer this time, and Frankie scanned the darkness just out of his field of vision, straining his eyes to spot the glimmer of the animal's eyes. His ears felt unfamiliar with the silence after the weeks in the city, but after a while he could pick up the faint rustle of the wind through the dry grass. A twig snapped nearby and as Frankie looked over, he saw the coyote. It had frozen mid step as it spotted Frankie’s movement, and now the two of them stared at each other across the front yard. 

“Hey there, boy,” Frankie said in a low voice, “what you up too?” 

The coyote blinked as its ears moved forward towards the voice and Frankie chuckled. 

“Are you the welcome wagon? I appreciate you keeping an eye on the place while I was gone, but there’s no food here, boy. Better get a move on or that jackrabbit’s gonna get even further away.” 

The animal regarded Frankie with curiosity for a few more seconds, before a sound behind drew its attention and it turned its head towards the darkness. 

“Go on, boy,” Frankie said, keeping his voice low, and the coyote looked back at him once again, before it turned and disappeared into the night. Frankie watched the spot where it had been swallowed up by the shadows for a while before he got to his feet with a sigh. He felt content. There was a dull ache in him, a hole left by Aisling, shaped by the guilt and regret he felt, but he hoped it would fade over time. He would take Herb’s advice and learn the lesson, make sure he didn’t make the same mistake again. 

Aisling slammed the door to her tiny apartment, reality starting to catch up with her as the rage abated. Sinking down on the bed she dropped her head in her hands, sighing deeply. It wasn’t that she got fired, she could probably convince Mickey to take her back. If not, there were thousands of bars and cafés around Brooklyn, she’d find a new job. 

No, it was the idea of going back to another bartending job, or being a barista, smiling for tips, being polite to rude customers and dodging their advances. She was in her forties, and up until now, her life hadn’t bothered her. She made enough to pay her small bills, buy bodega sandwiches and the odd evening out with friends. It had been enough. Kicking off her shoes, she lay down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. 

It had been enough. Past tense. 

It irked her to admit, but at the root of it, was Frankie. The way he’d talked about his life in Montana, so different to how she lived. How he couldn’t handle the noise and the rush of New York that she just took for granted. He just wanted to go back home to the silence, the big open sky, where his mind could be quiet. And for the first time in her life, she craved the same silence. And she craved him. 

She sat up on the bed, staring at her small bookshelf. She could almost reach it from the bed, the room was that small and suddenly she couldn’t stand it. She took two steps across the floor and pulled out the book, finding his note at once. The handwriting was so neat and precise, it didn’t really say anything about the man who’d jotted it down. As she sat down on the bed again, she smoothed out the paper, ran her hand across his name before she looked around the the room again. 

What do you have to lose apart from time? 

Dignity? 

Girl, what fucking dignity? You’ve just been fired from a dead end job, you live in a derelict Greenpoint relic that’s about to be knocked down, your life fits into two bags, one if you leave the books behind, what the fuck do you have to lose? 

It was no effort to pull her phone from her pocket and look up the bus time table, just looking. Just checking to see what it would cost and how long it would take. She could afford the one way ticket, but not the return. 

Fuck it. 

They had bars in Montana. 

Before she could change her mind, she pulled the duffel bag from under the bed. Her life really did fit into it, but she had to leave almost all the books, only two for the bus fit in the bag. In a final moment of uncertainty, she pocketed the key for her apartment instead of dropping it in the mail slot. Her whole life was packed up and on her shoulder in less than an hour, the thought both made her feel free and miserable. So many years with so little to show for it. But there was nothing to hold her back. One big leap made easier by her small bag, and it made her feel free. 

The window in his bedroom was open when he went to bed a little bit later on the first night back, and he crawled under the covers, feeling his mind starting to churn the second he closed his eyes, the events of the past three days rolling inside him.

Maybe I should’ve tried a little bit harder? What if I’d stayed, got my own place? 

He shook his head even as it lay on the pillow, he knew it was a pipe dream. 

On my own, I would’ve been so fucked. Probably gone back to Eva, or worse. But maybe I should’ve asked for Aisling’s number, or given her mine, just to stay in touch. She must’ve felt the same thing, right? 

He chewed his lip in the darkness, listening to the sounds of the prairie night outside with half an ear. 

She probably didn’t feel the same way, why would she? You’re grasping at the thinnest fucking straws, Morales. She’s not fucked up like you, doesn’t need saving, she’s got her shit together. It was just like a regular hook up to her, she’ll forget you in a week or two. 

He grabbed the pillow and rolled over onto his stomach and buried his face in it as he shook his head. 

Yeah, maybe, but she was still fucking pissed at me three days ago, and it had been what? A month? Would she still be that pissed if it meant nothing to her? Maybe if I give her some time? 

Pendejo, she was pissed because you didn’t tell her you had a fucking girlfriend, any woman would be pissed about that. 

He rolled the thoughts around his head, making lists in his head, pros and cons, feeling like his old army brother Will who always counted things, bullets, kills, days, months, number of times Frankie had fucked up. 

But as his mind drifted back to his trio of close friends he could hear the advice they’d give, and in the darkness, it made him smile as their voices echoed in his head. 

Will, the oldest and definitely the wisest, would cross his arms and give Frankie a thoughtful look, thinking through the options before he answered. 

Herb’s right, Fish. Take it as a lesson for your next step in life. Maybe you’ll see her again, maybe you won’t, but don’t waste this opportunity to learn something about yourself. 

Benny, the younger brother of Will, would shrug as he furrowed his forehead with a sympathetic look that didn’t really mean much, Benny could pull new women every night if he wanted too. 

It sucks, Fish, she sounds special, but I mean…do you really want to be in a relationship now? We should go out sometime and have a bit of fun. You know I’m a great wingman.

Yeah right, Frankie thought, grinning to himself. Going out with Benny to a bar meant Frankie ended up as the wingman instead while every woman in the place made eyes at the muscular blonde guy. No one looked at Frankie when Benny was in the room. 

And then there was Pope, his real brother in everything but blood. The disappointment from him about his many relapses had always been the worst to endure and it had made Frankie withdraw. In hindsight he knew it was all on him, but a piece of him wished Pope had tried harder to stay in touch when Frankie needed him the most. By now, it had been over a year since they last spoke. But Pope would always take one look at Frankie with those sharp eyes and see straight through him. And in this, he would set him straight about what he needed to do. 

Go back, hermano. If she makes you feel like that, go do what it takes to have her in your life. Even if it’s just as a friend. What have you got to lose? Not many good things have happened to you lately, if she’s one of the few, fight for it. 

Frankie sighed, rolling onto his back again, staring at the open window, a few faint stars visible. He’d pulled away from them all, from everyone in the past, in the depth of his addiction and then during his slow road to sobriety. He’d told them he’d moved to Montana only after he’d moved, sending them a text in the group chat about his whereabouts. Benny had given him a thumbs up, Will had replied saying something about whatever he needed. Pope hadn’t even replied. 

Suddenly he missed them, more than he had in a long time, ever since they came back from the doomed mission to Colombia. A mission they had no business being on, a greedy grab for money disguised behind some sort of invented moral about going after a top narco lord. It had been a disaster, leaving them more broken than ever, their team leader dead, and their brotherhood almost torn a part. 

He reached for his phone, finding Pope’s number and quickly, before he could change his mind, he typed a message and hit send. 

Port Authority after midnight was even more of a shitshow than she’d expected, and she quickly made her way through the sparse crowd to the right bus stop. The bus wasn’t due to leave for another forty minutes and she pulled out her phone again, nervously tapping the locked screen. She hadn’t bought a ticket yet, her nerves holding her back. Butterflies, and not the good kind, fluttered in her stomach. Apart from short trips to Long Island, a few weeks living on Staten Island that she’d rather forget about, she’d never left New York. Never left the state, never had the money, or the need too. Now she was facing two days on a bus, leaving everything behind based on a shitty night and a man she hadn’t spoken to in three months. Her lip was chewed raw by the time she unlocked the phone and the bus rolled into the stop.

She stood with the phone in hand, looking at the screen, the small ‘Buy’ button taunting her, even as the driver opened the door and announced the departure. The other passengers began to load their bags into the hold, and still her thumb hovered over the button. 

A high pitched squeak pulled her attention away from the phone and she looked towards the source of the sound, further down the plattform. A fat, well fed New York city rat, was attacking a pigeon, it looked like it’s wing was broken. As Aisling watched, the rat sank its long, yellow teeth into the neck of the bird, and dragged it underneath a dumpster by the wall. She heard another pathetic squawk from the pigeon and then it went quiet. With a shudder she turned back to the phone and hit ‘Buy’. 

Fuck this city. 

Frankie blinked in confusion at the bright sunlight that streamed across his face.

“Jeez…” he muttered to himself as he rubbed a hand over the stubble on his jaw and glanced over at the clock radio on his bedside table. He hadn’t set his alarm and now he was later than he usually would be. His belly growled, reminding him that he’d forgotten to eat last night, and with a yawn, he dragged himself out of bed and into the shower to start the day. 

He ate a can of ravioli from the pan while standing at the stove and poured the black coffee in a travel mug before he headed out the door. After reconnecting the battery the old truck rumbled to life and he gave it a grateful pat. At least some things were always dependable. 

Herb greeted him back at the ranch and then sent him back into the routine of the day without nonsense, telling him to go over the tack of the horses that would be going out on the trail with a group of guests the next day. 

Frankie was met by a sharp whicker as he stepped into the stable, two large heads turned to him as he pulled the door closed. The buckskin horse whickered again, bobbing its head up and down and Frankie chuckled, stepping over to her. 

“Hey, Dolly, my girl. Did you miss me?” he muttered, scratching her forelock as she nudged his arm for treats, nuzzling close to his shoulder. Frankie rested his head against hers and inhaled the familiar smell of her coat as she affectionately nipped at his shirt. 

“Sorry I left without saying goodbye,” he said, “but I’m back now, and I think I’ll stay. Gonna take you out later today, you can make sure I can’t walk tomorrow, my butt’s gonna be so sore.” 

He chuckled at his own joke as Dolly gave a low whicker, her soft nose bumping his pocket. 

“Sorry, I forgot to bring something, I’ll make it up to you later.” 

She gave him a snort but seemed to forgive him as he continued to scratch her mane. After a few minutes he gave her a final pat and went over to the tack room, giving the other horse a pat too. His phone started ringing as he opened the door to the tack room and Pope’s name flashed across the screen. His thumb hovered over the green button for a few seconds before he drew a deep breath and hit it. 

“Hey Pope, it’s been a while,” he said in greeting, dropping his eyes to his boots without even realizing, as if Pope was standing in front of him with those sharp eyes. 

“It has, but it’s good to hear from you, Fish,” came the voice of his oldest friend on the other end, “You still in Montana?” 

“Yeah, but I just got back from New York, long story,” Frankie replied, “All good with you, hermano?” Calling Pope brother was almost a code between them, a word only used when it meant something, when it was time to listen. The word a special signal between just the two of them, brothers in all but blood. 

Frankie could hear Pope’s smile through the phone, a low chuckle almost in relief, “I’m good, hermano. Still in Florida, still with Linda.” Pope had started dating her back when Frankie had been deep in his addiction, and he’d only met her twice, neither time a very good memory. But from what he’d heard from Benny, she made Pope happy and they were good together. 

“That’s great, man, I’m happy for you, I…I know I didn’t make the best impression on her, but she seemed great for you.” 

“She is, and I’m…” Pope trailed off for a few seconds as Frankie heard the sound of someone moving on the other end, a low ‘bye, love you’ from Pope, and a door closing. “Sorry, she’s just off to work, yeah, she’s amazing, I’m really happy, found some peace, you know?” 

Frankie shuffled his boots on the rough concrete floor of the tack room and leaned against the workbench, a sudden spout of jealousy tightening his throat. 

“Yeah, I know, I’m happy for you, really, man. It’s great to hear that you found it.” 

“What about you, Fish? You still clean, doing ok out there in cowboy country?” 

Frankie could hear the smirk and the exaggerated twang in Pope’s voice and he chuckled. 

“Yeah, I’m good, still clean, still working the ranch, but…uhm...Eva and I broke up. She moved to New York a while back.” 

“Shit, sorry to hear that,” Pope replied, “But I…” 

“Listen, man,” Frankie interrupted Pope, he didn’t want to go into the whole business with Eva over the phone, and he could hear his friend gearing up for a longer conversation, “I was thinking last night. I know I’ve been shit at staying in touch, but I want to change that. I’m not coming back to Florida any time soon, but maybe you and the Millers could come out here? I wanna show you guys my life out here.” 

“Frankie,” Pope smiled down the phone, “I’d fucking love that, and you know the Miller’s won’t say no to some ranching. Let me talk to them, we’ll find some dates that work and let you know.” 

“Awesome, man, it’ll be good, I’ll make sure Herb books you into one of the nice cabins.” 

“And get me a horse that won’t buck me off,” Pope laughed at the other end and Frankie grinned. 

“I’m not promising anything, might put you on the mule.” 

“Fuck off,” came the instant reply. 

“You’ll love the mule, Pope,” Frankie laughed before he glanced over at the saddles waiting for him, “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work, we’ve got guests coming tomorrow,” 

“Alright, hermano, we’ll see you soon, ok?”

“Yeah, see you soon, hermano.” 

Frankie felt the smile stretching his face as he hung up the phone, he felt lighter already. Guilt and shame had kept him away from his old friends, and reconnecting might not be easy. But this was a small step towards it and he needed to move forward. Put Eva and New York behind him, get over Aisling, learn from his mistake and rectify those he could. With a deep exhale, he hoisted the first saddle off its perch on the wall. 

The Greyhound bus rumbled away down the pin straight highway, heading west, towards the darkening mountain range. The sun slowly sunk behind the highest peaks, soon their shadows would touch her feet. Looking back, east, towards a past she’s left on a whim, she sighed and let her eyes drift up to the indigo sky. Big sky country indeed. 

So alien to her eyes, so open to someone used to living their life surrounded by tall buildings, busy people, small trees in small parks. 

Here, the open prairie gave speed to the cold wind hurtling down from the mountain range, whipping dirt from the road, tugged at her loose hair. She briefly closed her eyes against the particles of dust, inhaled deeply, tasting it on her tongue, dry grass in the air, a hint of snow from the mountains. No way back now, the bus too far away to stop. Only her duffel bag and a phone number, hoping he’d pick up and let her in. 

Aisling turned around and crossed the road, the bright lights of the gas station at the edge of town spilling across the dusty asphalt. She pushed open the door and nodded to the clerk behind the counter, dropping her bag by one of the small tables next to the coffee machine. His number was already in her phone, but she hadn’t had the courage to call him yet. But now she was here, and he was only a short car ride away. 

She closed her eyes, sending up a silent prayer, and tapped Frankie’s name on the screen, pressing the phone to her ear as it rang. 

Chapter 7

A/N: So Aisling finally got herself out to Montana on a bit of a whim, spur of the moment decision. But how is Frankie going to react when she suddenly turns up on his doorstep?

tag list: @harriedandharassed @inept-the-magnificent @sheepdogchick3  @readingiskeepingmegoing @noisynightmarepoetry @survivingandenduring @vabeachazn @amyispxnk @oberynslady @amyispxnk @thewiigers  @lady-bess @missladym1981 @peppermintfury @typewriter83 @anoverwhelmingdin @vabeachazn

[joeybsversion]

Comfortable

Joe Burrow x reader

You travel with the team for a relaxing weekend

You tightened your pony tail, trying to find something to do with your hands as Joe slipped his Cartier shades over his eyes. Your hand founds it’s way back to his and he laced your fingers together. You could see a crowd of fans and people taking pictures up ahead. Joe tightened his grip on your hand and put his head down as you fought your way through the crowded airport.

“Cars are out front. Follow this hallway and go out the doors on your next left.” Ja’Marr instructed, following close behind.

With another Super Bowl win behind them, the team had decided to take a relaxing trip to the mountains of Montana with girlfriends and wives in tow. You all needed a break from the city and the craziness that comes with being in the NFL.

“After you.” Joe smiled and opened the back door of the black SUV for you before following you in.

“Next stop, Camp Champs.” Sam Joked as he climbed in and took a seat next to Joe, his new girlfriend close behind.

A pack of SUV’s navigated the winding Montana roads through fields of wild flowers and forests of trees. “It’s so beautiful.” You admired the landscape.

“Just wait until we get to the cabin. Views are supposedly breath taking.” Joe looked out the window.

“Damn this place is huge!” Tee swung the door open, dropping his bags.

“Wow.” You gasped.

Joe smiled, taking your bags and leading you through the house, trying to find a room to claim. “How’s this one?” He asked. The room had floor to ceiling windows along the wall and a private balcony on the opposite side.

“It looks like a post card out there!”

He laughed at you before planting a kiss on your forehead. “It really does.. hopefully there’s no bears out there!” Joe teased.

“That’s not funny, Joey!” You backed away from the windows.

“I’m serious! This area is know for its big bad grizzly bears! You packed bear spray, right?” He asked, a look of concern on his face. You turned to look at him. “What is that!!” He pointed out the window.

You screamed and buried your face in his chest.

He laughed uncontrollably. “Baby, I’m kidding!” He fell backwards on the bed, trying to catch his breath.

“You’re so mean!” You playfully smacked his arm and flopped down on the bed beside him.

After a long day of travel, everyone was looking forward to a night spent around the campfire.

You slipped on some leggings and one of Joes flannels and followed him out into the big back yard where the rest of the team was gathered around watching Ja’Marr start the fire.

The crackle of the fire was relaxing, to the point where you might fall asleep outside. It doesn’t help that your cuddled up in Joes lap under a blanket, his hand tracing up and down your back. He’s laughing away with the team, already talking about next season, and sipping on a beer. He keeps name dropping sports people you’ve never heard of, which is helping you stay zoned out. Every so often he looks down and kisses you on the forehead, checking that you’re comfortable enough and warm enough. He notices goose bumps on the back of your neck and wraps the blanket around you tighter.

There’s a warm, full feeling in your heart when you’re with Joe. A feeling so familiar and specific. A feeling you didn’t know until you met Joe.

[pookie-mulder]

August 2024 fic roundup

This was truly the month of the longfic. And to think I only read short fics until @skelavender showed me the error of my ways!

📰🖋️ Paracelsus by prufrockslove

One of the biggest txf fics ever, and I absolutely devoured it. I loved reading it right after Hiraeth and seeing all the little nods to their past lives. This author knows how to spin a yarn, guys. My one complaint is the never-ending miscommunications towards the end, which is never my favorite source of drama/conflict. Just talk to each other, you idiots! (Although they have those moments in canon, as well, I suppose.)

⚾️🏟️ A Moment in the Sun by prufrockslove

I will remember this fic for the rest of my life. It’s the type of fanfic you want to write fanfic about. It makes me wish I knew now to print and bind my own books. The universe is so rich and developed. Definitely in my top 5 of all time!

Here’s a list of things I love about it:

William. My precious, bratty British boy.

The way the plot includes elements of the mytharc but put together in a different way so you don’t know exactly how it’s all gonna come together

Emily!! You know I love a good Emily AU, and this fic certainly counts. I’m a sucker for a found family, and this fic delivers.

Josh Exley my beloved (and Arthur Dales, but the other one)

Dad!Mulder. The man is an absolute DILF. He tries so hard to overcome his shortcomings and be the father his kids need.

Frohike. His job as an eccentric baseball manager suits him surprisingly well, and his characterization is on point.

The little nods to canon, including episode titles and locations.

The insinuation that all of PFL’s AUs take place in the same universe (as Mulder said, “It has to take more than one lifetime to learn to love someone this much.”)

The only thing I’m not zazzed about is the ending. It kind of just…ends? I would’ve loved an epilogue or even a sequel (or a 12-book series).

🏫📸 Dr. Scully’s School for Exceptional Boys by prufrockslove

Oh boy. This fic is a tangled mess of emotions and betrayal and shame and guilt and love and promises and sacrifices and, most of all:

Definitely recommend.

👒👩‍🔬 The Regency Files by @slippinmickeys

I needed something that needed less mental energy after 4 massive PFL fics in a row, and this one delivered! It’s sweet, romantic, elegant, and has just enough of a plot to keep you interested. If you’re a fan of historical AUs (as I am now, I guess), this one’s a must-read!

🛌🍷 The Reunion by @muldersfingers

Absolute trope-y goodness without feeling too cheesy or predictable. My favorite part is how much they laugh and tease each other when they finally make use of that one bed ;)

🐶🥇 underdog takes the title by @wtfmulder

MSR’s first time is sweet, silly, and giggly. Mulder is absolutely pathetic and pitiable, which Scully finds hot (same, girl). It absolutely melted my heart!

👶👨‍🍼 the bitter and the sweet by @xf-cases-solved

What if baby William was a girl? What if they named her after Samantha?

Absolute perfection. This is how season 8 should have ended!

🏔️🌲 The Mountain Man and A Deadly Hunger by aka_Jake

This historical AU takes place in the same time period as Paracelsus, but it’s so vastly different in its setting that it’s unfair to compare them. In this one, Mulder is a Montana mountain man who smuggles arms to the Native Americans, and Scully hopes to become an army doctor in a nearby frontier town. It’s a classic Wild West romance with plenty of drama and conflict. I love how each of the characters feel like themselves, especially Scully, who retains her headstrong independence despite social norms.

🔙🥩 The Mastodon Diaries by aka_Jake

Mulder and Scully travel back in time to the Pleistocene era and must rely on their wits and each other to survive.

This is one of those fics that changes you as a person. I will be thinking about it for a long, long time. It broke my heart a thousand times and then lovingly stitched it back together. There were so many moments that took my breath away.

The portrayal of prehistoric humans is especially incredible — they’re so well-thought out, and their culture is so rich and developed. Even though 12,000 years separates us, we’re not so different from each other in the end. I absolutely fell in love with the native OCs, which is a compliment of the highest order. I already miss them!

Anyway, it’s like this fic was created in a lab specifically for me. It has all my favorite tropes and story elements: wilderness survival, historical AU(ish), soooo much whump and caretaking and hurt/comfort, found families, Dad!Mulder, and a surprising amount of romance. If you haven’t read this one yet, I’m begging you to give it a try!

🇦🇶❄️ On the Verge by aka_Jake

This fic fits into one of my favorite canon holes: How did Mulder and Scully get back from Antarctica? I love reading everyone’s different takes on this missing scene/plotline, and this one is no exception!

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (45)

Part 1 -Part 38/  Part 39 / Part 40 / Part 41 / Part 42 / Part 43 / Part 44 /

Created: March 27th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

The Dandelion Project-Gamemakers (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark is dead. The body has never been found, but eighteen years after her childhood friend went missing, Katniss has given up all hope. But when a top-secret project brings her to a remote part of Montana, Katniss finds something worlds beyond what she ever expected. The End as We Know It-glintwarsgreatest (ao3)  Summary: Peeta Mellark was just a cop in a small, sleepy Georgian town when he was shot and slipped into a coma. When he wakes up, the entire world as he knew it is gone. Something has happened. The dead are coming back to life. Society has crumbled. Who among the living can be trusted? The First Christmas-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: This is just a place to cross post a WIP Christmas story based on Everlark Christmas Gifts Music Prompts, simply because it bugs me to have separate parts of my drabbles floating around on Tumblr only with no rhyme or reason :). It makes me happy to have them all together somewhere. Chapter 1: Santa Baby Chapter 2: I'll Be Home For Christmas Chapter 3: I Only Want You For Christmas Chapter 4: Last Christmas The Shrine Of Your Lies-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: They can't live with or without each other. This story is based on five angst prompts sent to my inbox on Tumblr. Three and Out-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Katniss and Peeta lose a bet with Finnick, which makes watching the annual Panem University v. Panem State University football game much more interesting. Too Familiar-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Katniss and Peeta enjoy a close friendship that might be a little too familiar, especially when one of them is married. Prompt: Envy Un Ballo In Maschera-Gamemakers (ao3)  Summary: For Finnick and Annie, a masquerade ball serves as a perfect excuse for a little wicked fun. Waterlily-HGRomance (ao3)  Summary: Peeta’s a high school exchange student spending a year on Panem Island, a foreign land of blue coves, lilting guitar melodies, and floral-scented breezes. He thought he left his love behind in America. But after meeting a village girl with a wild side, he’s not sure where his heart belongs. Modern AU. Web Spinner-everydayescapeartist (ao3)  Summary: Peeta and Katniss get "caught up" in a little Halloween role play. Everlark sexy time. What's A New Boy In Town To Do-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: Katniss, the vampire superintendent of the apartment complex Peeta just moved into, offers money off his rent in exchange for his blood. He's more than willing to go under the fang.

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

[coltermorning]

Of Love and Loss Ch. 2 (RDR2 Fanfic, Arthur Morgan x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: Unsure in your decision to leave your parents, you fight your mind and your ailing body, doubting your next steps alongside the new stranger.

Author’s Notes: Chapter two of this one. This story is set a few years before the game, so the gang members will reflect that. There are descriptions of illness and injury in this chapter.

Tags: Arthur Morgan x reader, high honor Arthur Morgan, minor character death, loss of parents, blood and injury, grief/mourning, survivor guilt, strangers to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, graphic depictions of violence

AO3 Link

~

Of Love and Loss

Two: Spiting Survival

Word count: 3408

Found a girl out on the trail this morning. Well, woman I should say, only she’d just lost her parents to a nasty fall off a cliff. She somehow survived it. And now she’s with me, more wild animal than woman, holding on best she can to survive.

Don’t know why I felt the need to play hero. Maybe Dutch and Hosea will know what to do with her, as it has become increasingly obvious I do not.

~

The stranger—Arthur—had a little brown book not so different from your father’s. He had just finished scribbling something in it when your restlessness gave way and you finally sat beside the fire he had built.

He stashed the book, eyeing you. “You wanna eat something? You got to be hungry.”

It was night, a long day of traveling behind you. It seemed the folks this man ran with were quicker than most caravans of that size—you hadn’t run into them yet.

You shook your head. As hungry as you were, you couldn’t eat. It would just come right back up.

“You need to eat,” he pushed. He didn’t understand it. Any of it. You were exhausted, starved, pained. Each of those things helped distract you when distraction was as precious as gold. It was taking all you had not to turn right back around and walk all the way you had come.

You just looked at him, long enough to make him shake his head at you in defeat. Good. You wanted to be left alone. The sole reason you had agreed to come with him was beginning to be lost on you with every step away from that godforsaken bridge.

The fire took your attention as the night air closed in. You and your parents had left Montana too late in the year, autumn biting at your heels all the way. It would snow soon. You felt a brief moment of panic, knowing it would bury their graves deep enough for them to be difficult to find. But there was the tree. You wouldn’t forget that worn pine.

A popping sound drew your eyes—the man had opened a can of food and was holding it out to you. You stared, refusing to take it. He sighed in annoyance and got up, walking to you and setting it down at your feet with more force than necessary. He held your gaze, a hard determination in his own. “Eat.” He didn’t wait to see if you would obey before turning toward his bedroll. He settled on top of it, punching his makeshift pillow too hard. “And get some rest. I ain’t slowing pace tomorrow.”

You were torn by that. Where did you go from here? When you did catch up to that caravan, you knew you couldn’t bear to stay with them. So it would be onto the next town. Then what? Struggle to make a living as a working girl or a maid? You were better off in the woods. You had been raised on a small homestead, hunting every meal, working with your hands. You didn’t know anything else. It was foolish to think some little life in a town would suit you. You wondered if you could make it to Nebraska somehow, but that journey would take weeks. Maybe months given the snow.

You knew what you really desired—what you had dreamed of since you were old enough to dream of such things. But your parents hadn’t wanted that life for you. Montana was too far behind you anyway.

At the thought of your parents, you shook off the longing within you and looked to the can of food at your feet. Just as with them, the least you could do was try. No matter how much it pained you.

You took the can—beans—and ate with held breath, forcing it down. It was misery, but you finished the whole thing then got up to resume your pacing. It kept the cold off and your relentless thoughts at bay.

You walked over to the man’s horse, a fine beast he called Boadicea. She was watchful but not spooky, keeping a close eye on your approach. You held out a hand to her. She reluctantly sniffed it. Being with her felt natural. Easy. The sole thing to feel that way. You gave her a few strokes against her broad neck then stepped away. Needing to move again. To shake off the constant dread within you, namely due to the remembrance of your own stallion. You were glad you hadn’t looked to see the state of him. You didn’t think you could stomach that. Though, that thought brought on the sharp image of your mother’s bent leg. You got all of two steps before you felt your stomach turn. The feeling reminded you of falling, and you were suddenly back there, the world upside down, everything you knew raining down.

You vomited every bit of your dinner, still heaving when there was nothing left to rid yourself of.

~

Morning came, and you had hardly slept. You could hardly function. Each thought was a broken pane of the present and the past shattering against each other. Speech, movement, survival, it was all lost. All to the truth of things.

“You all right back there?”

You were staring, dead eyed, at nothing as you rode. Hands clenched around the man’s coat so tight you couldn’t feel your fingers. You would fall if you let go. You would not fall again.

The man turned in your grip, throwing you a glance you couldn’t make out as you wouldn’t meet it.

“Ain’t gonna pass out on me are you?”

Endless questions. You longed for the day he would give up trying.

His horse trotted on, the sun rising higher and higher. It was hours before you heard voices. Wagons.

“Look who it is,” a man said. The confident voice caught your attention, and you met its owner with hesitant eyes. “And who’s this?”

“We got a passenger,” your savior responded. If that was what he could be called.

“So I heard.” The man turned his horse back to join the two of you. It was only when he got close that you could make out the look in his eye—curiosity. Too much of it. “Name’s Mac.”

You just stared.

“She ain’t much of a talker I’m afraid. Where’s Dutch? I need a word.”

The man nodded ahead. “Second from the front. Says we’ll be stopping soon.”

The mare picked up her pace below you, rounding the rearmost wagon. You were glad to be out from under the scrutiny of one pair of eyes, but soon came more. Many more. And with all the staring came the grounding present, your reality thrust upon you without warning. It was exhausting. You turned away, looking to the wood line, clinging to the stranger.

The horse eventually slowed. “Hi, Dutch.” You refused to look, to put a name to a face.

“Arthur. I was beginning to worry,” said a deep voice, one of the two men who had come down on the wagon yesterday.

“Oh, we managed just fine. You made good timing.”

“So we have. We’re stopping soon to water the horses, set up camp for the night. Hosea says there’s a good spot down the way.”

“Dry and warm,” said another voice. The older man. “It’ll do for now. And how’d you get on? I see you still have your friend there.”

“Indeed,” said the man you rode with. Arthur. Thought it felt wrong to call him that. “Like I said, we managed. I figured she could stay with us ‘til she figures out what she wants to do.”

“Sure,” the older man replied. “What’s one more?”

Arthur laughed. “You got that right.”

The proud voice, Dutch, spoke again. “Why don’t you ride on ahead Arthur, pick us out a good spot to land this makeshift menagerie? The girl can stay with us.”

You tightened your grip, hard enough for the man to take notice. You wouldn’t be left behind with these strangers.

“Uh, I think it’s probably best we both go.” He nodded toward you. “She’s still a little skittish.”

The man chuckled in response. “Whatever you say.”

You were being ridden away from the sound of all those creaking wagons before you so much as breathed again.

“So.” It was taking all your energy to listen. To keep the thought of broken boards and bodies out of your head. “What is your plan exactly? You staying with us?”

You shook your head. He of course couldn’t see it.

After a beat, the man sighed and reached for the satchel strapped across him. He pulled something out of it and passed it over his shoulder—your mother’s necklace. Your mind went numb with it, with the shine she always polished into it. She was so proud of that necklace that she never even wore it, too afraid to break it or lose it. How was it here?

“Figure these belong to you. Wouldn’t have taken them if I’d known you were-”

“Keep it.” You were shoving the necklace back in his hand, preventing him from pulling out some other item you couldn’t bear to look at. All you needed was the ledger. The rest was too painful to think about.

“Okay.” He seemed surprised. Let him be. You were too busy feeling regret curl within you again, your last words spoken no longer to your parents. It was a silly thing, but it felt like all you had to hold onto. So you clamped your mouth shut again, refusing to utter another word.

After less than twenty minutes, the man slowed his horse. “Here we are. This is a good spot.” You looked over his shoulder at the small clearing, a river running near it. It would be a good place to keep all those wagons and people. The thought had you retreating in on yourself, ready to bolt. You had nowhere else to go, but you considered it. Maybe they had an extra horse somewhere you could leave on. The idea of the next town certainly felt more doable than this. Than all those eyes on you, looking at the woman who had cheated death.

The man circled around a few times before letting his horse walk over to the water and drink. The river was small, barely a creek. You would normally appreciate it after all this travel, but you couldn’t think of that now. Now came a decision—what to do with yourself. For the rest of your life. And now was a better time than any being away from all those people. You slid off the horse, landing softly on your feet, preparing to speak. It was inevitable now. The man looked down at you, and you forced yourself to look up at him.

“I need to be going.”

He frowned, a more annoyed-looking thing than an upset one. “And you plan on, what, walking it from here?”

You looked to your feet, not knowing how to answer. It made him sigh, like he had to do it to regain his patience. “We’re headed down to Colorado, should be a little less than a month. Why not just come with us? We got plenty of food and shelter. It’ll be a lot easier on you.”

You were beginning to think he was a little ignorant. Either that or stubborn. He didn’t get it.

“No.”

He stared this time. Then, “No, huh? Well I’m sorry, but I can’t-”

“I have family. In Nebraska.”

He considered you. “That’s quite a trip.”

It wasn’t much farther than Colorado. You weren’t about to mention where in Nebraska though, that it would take more than a month.

He shook his head when you didn’t answer. “Just let them get here, get yourself settled for the night. Then you can decide whether you want to lose all this or not.”

Wrong choice of words. You’d already lost everything. You left him sitting there atop his horse, storming away toward the nearby trees. It was taking everything in you to keep your anger driving things, to keep the reason for your miserable circumstances at a distance.

You hid like a coward when the wagons pulled in, going deeper into the woods so as not to be confronted. It was probably ruining your chances of getting any help from these people, but you didn’t care. Surviving your innermost thoughts was all that was left. This was the only way to make things bearable.

The day went on, and your exhaustion from such little sleep the night before began to catch up to you. You had been hungry for a while now, the pain in your side throbbing for hours, but you ignored them both. The nearby river caught your attention instead.

You walked over to it, taking a glove off and brushing your fingers against the water. It was freezing. The shock of it made you suck in a breath, and the motion had your side stitching up in teeth-gritting pain. You knew then you had to tend to it or likely die of it.

You made to peel your coat away and winced. Not from the pain—it revealed blood underneath, dried against your shirt where it stuck out from under your vest. You hadn’t even noticed, too caught up in everything else to worry about yourself.

You reluctantly unbuttoned your vest, then your shirt. Pulled up your chemise. You braced yourself, reaching for where the pain was worst.

“Looks like you’re banged up pretty good there.”

You whipped around to the sound of the unfamiliar voice—the man from before. Mac? He was staring at your side, at the blood giving you away now that your coat wasn’t hiding it.

Panic rose up in your throat like bile, half-choking you with fear. You didn’t want him here. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t run. Just stood there staring at him.

“Easy there, I come in peace.” He held up his hands as if in surrender but stepped closer. Caging you in against the river. “You need to tend to whatever’s making you bleed like that.”

You knew it wasn’t bleeding anymore. Each subtle movement of breath against your ribs revealed dried, cracked blood. But the wound would reopen if this man got any closer, for you would be sprinting away from him any second.

“Mac, leave the woman alone.” This from the lone voice you were familiar with. Arthur. Come to rescue you a second time. He walked out of the woods and set a hand on the other man’s shoulder, stopping his approach.

“I weren’t doing nothing but trying to help. Look at her.”

Arthur’s eyes landed on you, on your side all bloodied. They narrowed. You fought the urge to run again.

“Go back in camp, would you?” he asked the other man, never taking his eyes off you. “You’re scaring her off.”

“You go back in camp,” the man shot back.

“Mac,” Arthur warned, looking him in the eye. There was no room for argument in his voice.

The other man scoffed and shoved Arthur’s hand away, grumbling under his breath as he turned back. You watched him go, breathing coming easier with his every step away. The stranger didn’t seem overly threatening. You just couldn’t bear to be near him. Near anyone for that matter, except, seemingly, for the one who had rescued you. Buried your parents. Ridden you all this way.

“Sorry about him,” he said, not coming any closer. Like he saw escape written across your face. “He means well.”

You didn’t reply. You couldn’t be so sure.

“That don’t look so good.” He pointed to the deep red staining your shirt. The motion drew your eyes to it, and where you were scared to look before, you did now. You shouldn’t have. You felt your stomach turn again.

Your entire side was black with one giant bruise. In the middle lay scraping lines of red leading to a cut so jagged it was a wonder the bleeding had stopped. You were accosted with memory, the reason behind such injury—falling, hitting the wagon, nearly passing out from the pain of it before you hit the ground.

The wagon had broken your fall.

“I can get someone to tend to that. Bring you some supplies.”

The words were meaningless. The wagon had kept you from death, and this mangled black and red mass was all you had to show for it. The only thing keeping you alive. You suddenly fell to your knees over the reality of it, feeling sickness push up your throat. Your empty stomach prevented anything from coming up, and you sat there heaving again, just as you had the night before.

“Wait right there. I’ll get help.”

“No,” you choked out.

“Don’t be stubborn. You need-”

“No.”

Your body gave up trying to expel what wasn’t there, and you looked over at the man, breaths coming in sharp and painful.

He shook his head at you. Then approached. “Let me see then.”

You moved back. He kept coming anyway. You didn’t have it in yourself to fight him. Too weakened by the idea that you would be with your parents now if it weren’t for this injury.

The man came over and pulled your shirt to the side, your bunched-up chemise higher.

“Shit.” You watched his face. The concern in his eyes. “This could have killed you.”

Maybe so. Maybe you’d been hoping for that.

“We gotta get this stitched up or the skin’ll die. It’s a wonder it ain’t infected already.”

All just words, white noise. Meaningless in the grand scheme of things. If it weren’t for this ugly wound, you’d be at peace now. You felt a sob escape you as you knelt even lower, pushing the man’s hands away. He let you down, and you curled in on yourself, overcome by it. If only you’d fallen differently. Been sitting with your parents instead of on the back. Then the wagon wouldn’t have been in the way of the one thing you longed so deeply for.

Sobs shook your shoulders, but no tears escaped. Like you’d cried them all away.

“I’m gonna go get something for that wound. Stay here.”

You didn’t have to be told. You didn’t even have it in you to move.

You were a mess of memory and pain when the man returned, his hand finding your shoulder and rolling you onto your back.

“This is going to hurt,” he said. Let it.

You kept your eyes shut tight, afraid of what you were letting him do. Mending you. But your fear and your grief and your agony were all bundled up so tightly within you that you stayed still.

You felt something wet push against the edges of the wound, drawing a sharp breath from you. The bruise was the worst part. Any higher and you would have shattered your ribs. But instead you were a beaten hull, nothing left underneath. Nothing that mattered.

The pressure got to be too much. You tried to push his hands away.

“Stay still,” he demanded. You pushed again. “This ain’t even the worst part. Either you let me do it, or I’ll go get someone else.”

That stopped your protests.

After another minute of brutal pressure, he let out a short breath, like he was steeling himself. You forced yourself to keep your eyes closed for what came next.

“I ain’t the best at this.”

His voice was smaller than you’d ever heard it. You didn’t need that.

“Just do it,” you hissed.

Then there was pain, sharp and pinpointed on the skin that was already so shredded. Then it threaded, and happened again, and soon you were shoving your fist in your mouth to have something to bite down on. You cried out. It was getting worse, pain on top of pain. Tumbling into the harshness of all that had happened, trauma of the mind colliding into your will. It was too much. All of it. Your felt your body finally begin to give up. You clung onto the feeling with all you had, praying for death to take you.

You called out to your parents with one final breath, darkness closing in on the pain and on your mind until you unraveled and were no more.

_________

Chapter three is here.

[ell-alexanderarnold]

Unforgettable

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 (𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭)

part one | part two

Summary: Y/n spends her summer with her boyfriend as usual but when she accidentally bump into a certain footballer in the club, her life becomes more difficult.

Angst & Fluff

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It was more than a summer fling. It is more than a hookup and a friendship. It was love. You had found love randomly in a club on a summer night and you would’ve never thought that he would be the person who you now loved so endlessly.

After your summer break in London you went back to Liverpool with him, Trent who you continued to spend the rest of your summer with. You didn’t have time for your other friends, you were constantly by his side. No one could drag you away from him except himself.

But now when the Premier League starts you’ll have to cope without him, no more being by his side 24/7. You basically live with him now but one thing has really bugged you. You weren’t his girlfriend yet. After all these months, no discussion about being his girlfriend what so ever.

You both are so blinded and caught up in your love to each other to notice and you figured that’s why you haven’t talk about it. But you had. For days you’ve been laying in his couch waiting for him to confess his feelings, but there’s only him coming home from training saying a simple “hi” and then he goes off to shower. No cuddles, no Trent opening up about his feelings.

You felt like an ornament, only touched when it needs to. Was that what you really meant to him? Like a piece of garment used once in a month. On the other hand he was the opposite to you, he was your whole world now since you left Jacob, why can’t he see that?

Another day goes by and you were at his house, waiting for him to come home. The only thing you could do when he was at the training ground was to wait. Wait to be loved and cared about, you know he cares about you but he hasn’t shown that properly. You hear the familiar sound of the door unlocking knowing he’s home.

“Hey Trent” You voiced and indicated that he would come and sit down by the couch with you.

He approached you slowly, clearly tired and nuzzled his head against your neck. He kissed you gently and you hugged him whilst rubbing his back. It was moments like this that you cherished more and more each day.

“I missed you my love” He cooed and rose up, laying his head against your shoulder instead.

“I missed you too, how was training?” You asked whilst you stroke his locs.

“It was alright, couldn’t stop thinking about you though. Robbo kept talking about you as well” He chuckled.

You first met Trent’s fullback friend just before the season started, when you were still at Trent’s and he came home with Robbo when you hadn’t left yet. It was a funny interaction with Robbo not knowing about you and Trent, caused many questions from the scotsman.

“What did he say?” You wondered.

“How I've apparently been calmer since I met you or something like that” He explained and looked up at you, smiling.

”What were you like before then?” You implored.

”Wild I guess” Trent said and you both started laughing.

Moments like this were the ones you wished lasted forever. You didn’t want it to end nor did you want to ruin it by asking a difficult question which you did.

“Trent” You began, fiddling with your fingers to avoid the nervousness that was going through your body.

“Y/n” He responded.

“What are we?” You inquired, asking what has been on your brain for what it feels like forever.

“What do mean what are we?” He murmured, sounding annoyed which you didn’t want him to be.

“This, what are we doing now?”

“Cuddling” He simply stated, leaving you uneasy.

“No like our relationship I mean there’s no relationship but you know” You noted.

“I don’t know Y/n, don’t have time for this right now” He complained whilst getting up from the couch leaving you by the couch with no answer.

“You don’t have time for me you’re saying” You mocked knowing this is how your arguments with him usually start.

“No Y/n that’s not what I said”

“It’s the same thing Trent” You said as you also got up from the couch, following him upstairs.

“Is spending my whole bloody summer with you not having time for you?” Trent snapped as you entered his bedroom, mostly your shared bedroom now.

“T that’s not-“

“Yes Y/n it is, now get out!” Demanded Trent as tears started to fill your eyes whilst leaving his room and he slammed the door.

You still cannot figure out why every good moment you have with him turns into a fight. He was difficult to understand and you were sure that you were difficult to understand as well, but that didn’t stop you from loving him they way you do.

You just wanted to walk into his room and give him a one big hug, the ones who usually last forever. You wanted to comfort him and kiss his plumped heart shaped lips. You wanted nothing but him. So now when you find yourself all alone again sunken in his guest room bed you decided to sleep, hoping to wake up next to Trent who you couldn’t even figure out at the moment.

-

After being in deep sleep, you were awoken by the sound of the door shutting. You looked around and you were still in Trent’s guest room. You rubbed your eyes and got up from the bed, moving towards Trent’s bedroom to see the door closed. You knock lightly and call his name but there’s no answer. You open the door, no Trent.

You searched upstairs for him but he wasn’t anywhere, you went down the stairs and there’s still no sight of him. Has he left you all alone in his own home? Trent never left without saying anything and it made you more worried that you two just had an argument which you two usually work out but now he had just disappeared.

“Trent!” You shouted as you broke down in tears. He had left you and it was your fault. Maybe you should’ve never asked him about your relationship, maybe if you didn’t mention it you’d still be in his arms right now.

He wasn’t home.

The tears continued to stream down your face as you took up your phone to see if his location was on. You immediately rushed up from the couch and took your car keys. He was at the place. Your place, the place only you and Trent knew. Where you too used to go when you two just needed to talk or just be.

You started the car and wiped off the remaining tears on your face then started driving.

When you arrived you could his car and your person sitting there, on the park bench where you have shared so many things with him. Things that you’ve never told anyone before.

You eventually picked yourself together and got out from the car and started to walk towards him.

“Hey, can I sit down?” You said shyly.

“Yeah sure” Trent answered and looked at you then turned his attention back on the beautiful view in front of him.

“Trent your eyes are puffy, have you cried?” You noticed and laid your hand on his shoulder.

“Could ask you the same thing, Y/n” He whispered as your eyes met, the eyes you fell in love with were on you and you only.

“Why did you leave without saying anything? I was worried as hell” You noted as Trent let out a sigh.

“Needed some space.” He simply told you. You could agree with him, you two needed a little break from each other. You couldn’t believe you’ve been with him almost every day since the summer.

“I understand” You replied.

Some minutes of silence lasted for a while as you both were too caught up in your own thoughts. Whilst looking out at the view you thought it would be good to ask him again about the relationship between the two of you- without causing an argument this time.

“We need to talk T” You began and Trent laid his eyes on you, that was yet another one thing that you loved about him. When you talk or share your thoughts, his attention is always on you.

“Go ahead, break my heart” Trent sassed and you were surprised by his audacity to say something like that, knowing that you’ll never ever want to break his heart.

“I would never break your heart” You stated.

“Swear?” He doubted.

“Swear” You promised and broke eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry about earlier Y/n” Trent uttered and removed a piece of hair that had fallen over your face.

”Hmm” You replied and gave him a weak smile with a bit of sadness in it.

“You remember the first time we came here?” Trent said and you giggled thinking back at how it was.

“Yeah I still remember it was like three months ago Trent” You smiled and he pushed your arm lightly.

As you both sat watching the sunset Trent realised. He realised that he loved you and he had finally opened his eyes, it was all so clear for him now. He was going to tell you after all this time.

Meanwhile you sat and watched the sun go down he called your name.

“Y/n”

Your eyes turned to Trent, meeting them now without breaking eye contact.

“I appreciate you so much” He began.

“I appreciate you too Trent, more than you know” You answered.

“And I really like spending time with you, you know” Trent claimed as you were confused not knowing where this conversation was going.

“Where are you going with this Trent?” You sighed as he cut you off.

“Fuck Y/n, I’m trying to say that I love you” Trent explained and you had to stop up to process what he just said. He loves you? Did he just explain that he loves you? You never thought he’d say it, you were so surprised that you didn’t even answer him.

“Say something” Said Trent and laughed.

“I.. I’m shocked I didn’t think-“

“You didn’t think that I could love you? How could I not love you Y/n, come on” He smiled.

“Just thought you didn’t” You sniffed as tears began to fill your eyes.

“Well I do Y/n” He confessed as he gently dried your tears with his hands and hugged you.

Now you were in his arms again, where you felt like you belonged.

“I love you dumbo” You spoke up after being in his arms for a while.

“Yeah?” Trent blurted and you giggled.

“Yeah, I love you” You told him and got up from the bench with your lover who you now safely can call your boyfriend. Leaving the place where you were with him from the start, not sure about what was going on between the two of you. But one thing you knew for sure was that your love for him was going to grow. And now it has grown and it’ll continue growing each day for the rest of your life.

Driving back to his house was again one of those late night drives who you didn’t want to come to an end. You two drove beside each other because of Trent leaving before you did with his car. You raced beside each other when there was no cars around and he constantly won the small races. You messaged him in frustration then stuck your tongue out for him through the window.

You: I hate you

Trent: You know you love me, I’ll make it up to you when we get home

When you walked through the door Trent’s hands were all over you. You two rushed up to the bedroom, eager to show your love for each other.

”Promise me you’ll stay forever” Trent uttered after making love with you, he was holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world which you were to him.

“I’m not going anywhere” You whispered and eventually you both fell asleep in each other’s arms.

What if you never met that certain footballer in the club, you couldn’t imagine how your life would look like if that never happened…

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Thanks for reading this series! 💌

[thebiggerbear]

Only Ever Holding Onto You - Three - Same Old Shit

A/N: Personally, this is one of my favorites so far because I love Poppernak dearly but also I wanted to delve into the reader a bit more. This is unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine.

Warnings: a ton of shit (literally)

Word Count: 7114

Series Masterlist

Series Taglist: @deans-spinster-witch; @rieleatiel

You cursed quietly when you stepped in dog shit yet again. You took a deep breath to center yourself, knowing there was nothing you could do and that you would have a good hour or two of cleaning every single tread on the sole of your shoes when you got home to make sure all of the fecal matter was gone. For now, grass and a piece of cardboard that Poppernak hopefully had in the back of his car that could double as a floor mat would have to do. You opened your eyes and surged forward…right into another pile of dogshit.

“Motherfuck,” you hissed as you felt the familiar squishy feeling under your foot and the smell predictably wafted up to assault your nose. This place was a goddamn minefield!

You should have known, seeing the state the house was in as well as the makeshift garage. Not to mention the elderly age of the owners and the large lawn mower that clearly sat unused if the yards of rust covering it was anything to go by. This land hadn’t been worked in a long time; how could you expect that they would clean up dogshit where it remained hidden by grass that was long enough to wave with each passing breeze? Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops very carefully moving forward on his chosen pathway, obsessively checking the ground before he took a step. It just hit you that there could even be snakes in here and you could be walking through their damn living room. Son of a bitch.

“Hey Pepper Snaps, be careful! There could be snakes,” you called.

“I wasn’t thinking about that but now I am. Thanks, Y/N.”

You may have rolled your eyes and hoped he stepped in the next pile of dogshit instead of you. 

“Did you find Goldie yet?” An old man shouted from behind you.

You turned around to see Lee Knutson, a man in his eighties, watching you from his porch along with his wife Marilyn, also in her eighties. Both of them owned this property and they had placed a call to the police reporting their dog Goldie as missing. They were frantic and because Helena PD loved to pass calls like this onto your department from time to time, here you were, looking for a dog in a place that could double as Jumanji to appease an old couple who loved their dog more than life itself. Hoyt had passed the call onto you with a smirk, saying “You’re an animal lover, right, Y/L/N? Why don’t you and Pop take this one?” Based on her passive aggressive comment, you knew she was still holding a grudge about your calling the Feds in on the Avuna Pharmaceutical case. You knew she had it in for you before that but now, you knew she was doing everything she could to make your life even more of a living hell as punishment. Especially when Beau publicly backed your play; that just made her burn even more. 

Having no choice other than to send Pops alone, you found yourself entering the previously uncharted wild jungle of Helena, Montana, with him right behind you. You both were wading through shit and a yard that looked like it could double as an apocalyptic landscape because you’d had the audacity to try to do the right thing in a case where all parties were concerned. Something that from what you’d heard, Hoyt would have most likely done herself back in the day. You knew deep down though that her fury at you had more to do with Beau refusing to bust your ass than the Feds getting involved. You had decided that you would let it continue to be her problem and just do your job, like always. But damn if you had imagined it would get this bad. You supposed you should be grateful she hadn’t sent you and Pops into a dangerous situation where you might not escape unscathed, like exchanging fire with a perp, though the smell that smacked you in the face when you turned to face the old man had you almost wishing she had. You’d take anything else anyday over this crap.

“Not yet,” you yelled back. “But don’t worry, Mr. Knutson, we’re still looking!” You hoped you sounded more hopeful than you felt. 

It really had been a shitty week, pun fucking intended. 

The morning after the very weird night you’d had at The Boot Heel, Beau wasn’t in the office. Madge told you he had simply called out, claiming that he was taking a few vacation days, and that he knew the department had things handled. You thanked the woman and frowned at Beau’s closed door as you passed. 

You had texted Beau the night before when you arrived home as he had asked you to, and he wished you a good night, letting you know he was safely home as well (he knew you too well). That had been the last time you heard from him which wouldn’t be that strange if he had shown up for work. You forced your worry back down and told yourself you were fretting over nothing, this spike in nerves you had was just a remnant from the previous evening. Your compass was most likely still recalibrating. Beau was fine, everyone and everything was fine, he had a right to take his well-earned vacation time especially since he never really took a day off — you were overreacting. But just to be safe, you texted Emily to check in. She got back to you within a few minutes, letting you know that she and her mom had a full day planned since they now had time to start painting their new home that they had moved into a few months back. 

Carla had been ready to leave Montana after Avery’s death and Emily’s abduction scare but Beau thankfully had talked her into staying, for Emily’s sake, for his sake — all of their sakes. As soon as Carla sold the property she had shared with Avery, Beau helped her and their daughter move into a new home in a closer neighborhood that she was able to get a good deal on. You knew Beau had been relieved when Carla agreed to stay and you had as well, for him and for you. There was no way you wouldn’t try to follow him back down to Houston if he had gone, especially not when Hoyt might take his place where she could make your life miserable full-time and on the county’s dime. Just like she was already doing this week.

Emily promised to send you pictures of the finished product and you wished her luck, telling her to call you if they needed a hand once your shift was over. Em and Carla were fine; that just left Beau.

Before you could type up a text to check in with him, a quick meeting assembled that you had no idea had even been planned. Hoyt took charge and completely dismissed you, laying down the law for the next few days. She would be distributing calls and deciding who to dispatch. Which you found awful funny because that was bound to create issues with the system Beau already had in place. Madge looked slightly put out until Hoyt wrapped an arm around her shoulders and told her she would need the older woman’s help. You watched the entire scene unfold, arms crossed and leaning against the doorway, smirking and enjoying the show. It didn’t surprise you in the least when she approached you and Pops last with your assignments for the morning, a triumphant grin on her face.

“A couple of calls came in late last night that I’d like you two to follow up on.” She handed the sheet of paper to Pops who took it and scanned it quickly. “You don’t mind, do you, Y/L/N?” 

Your smirk widened. She was clearly challenging you, practically daring you to say something. Beau had made it plain to her and the department often enough that you and Hoyt were equal in his eyes. Neither of you had authority over the other one. He told you later when it was just the two of you that he had done that out of respect for your career and experience thus far but also to give you a leg to stand on when it came to Hoyt. He understood that she worked hard in her position as undersheriff and he wasn’t trying to take that from her but he wanted you in the department working with him and he wasn’t going to demote you to make that happen. You were more than appreciative of his willingness to not only take you on and keep you with him but also to make sure you didn’t go backwards in pay or in your career. You found out later he had even taken a slight pay cut himself when he brought you on board, which you duly chastised him for later, not wanting him to sacrifice anymore than he already had. The response he gave you was a simple wink and his usual boyish smile. 

So Hoyt and the department knew where you stood, something the blonde was testing right now because Beau wasn’t here. The department didn’t give a crap if she took advantage and lorded it over you as long as it wasn’t them, and she expected you to either fold or go running to tell Beau or something along those lines. She clearly didn’t know you at all if she expected any type of reaction she was trying to get out of you. Your grin matched hers. “Not at all.”

Her blue eyes narrowed but then you could see the triumph in her smile, thinking she had won some imaginary victory over you. “Great.” You pushed the urge to roll your eyes deep down, knowing that if anything happened with the department over the next few days, the responsibility was on her alone, officially. Unofficially, you’d keep an eye out during Beau’s absence and not let everything turn to complete shit.

Your smile grew so much that your cheeks started to hurt.

Hoyt began to say something else but before she could get a word out, your phone started ringing. You pulled it out of your pocket and the name on the screen sent your heart into overdrive. “Excuse me. I have to take this.” You didn’t wait for Hoyt to respond or Pops, but one quick glance confirmed she had seen the screen as well. The glare she was currently gracing you with was the glare to end all glares. You ignored it and stepped away as planned, hearing her snap at Pops to make sure you didn’t stay on the phone too long and to get out the door, before storming away.

This time, you did roll your eyes, and you picked up the call.

“Beau?”

“Mornin’.” He sounded okay though his voice seemed a little more gravelly than usual. You attributed it to the early hour. 

“Morning. You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Just taking a few days.”

“Long overdue,” you agreed.

“Yeah,” he sighed. 

You glanced around and lowered your voice. “You really are okay, though? You’d tell me if something was wrong… Right? Like you coughing twice or asking me to take the pineapple slices off the pizza to indicate you’re being held against your will.”

He let out a laugh and that made you feel lighter than you had a moment ago. “I’m good, Y/N, I promise. Pineapple on pizza? How in the hell is that a pizza topping? I still don’t get it.”

“You would if you would ever try it when I order it.”

“I will never eat that crap. Who puts fruit on pizza anyway? Besides you?”

“A lot of the population in fact. That’s why it’s so popular,” you teased him.

“I’ve lost all hope for society.”

You finished taking a sip of your coffee. “Really? You’ve been working this job now for two decades and a yellow and very delicious fruit put on pizza is what finally did it for you?”

“Fruit doesn’t go on pizza, Y/N. I’m not having this debate with you again. Not this early,” he groaned.

“The trick is to get it without the sauce. That’s how I order it. It’s only weird tasting when the sauce is added into the mix.”

“If there’s no sauce, then how is it pizza?”

You snorted. “Pizza is all about the cheese.”

“And the sauce. Without sauce, it’s just bread and cheese.”

“Which incidentally are two of the most important ingredients for pizza.”

You smiled in victory when an exasperated sigh came down the line. “Okay, you win. So how do I get out of this conversation that’s happening against my will? Do I sneeze twice or ask for extra cheese?”

“Ha ha. You called me, remember that.” In your peripherals, you noticed Pops signaling to you and pointing to his watch. You nodded and held a finger up. Yes, you knew Hoyt couldn’t wait for you to go out on your crappy call list for the morning, and add more to it during the day most likely. Her pettiness could wait a few more minutes. Guaranteed, this was going to be the best part of your day and you weren’t giving it up that easily. “So, what are your plans for today? Have any or are you just taking it easy for the day?” 

“Actually, I’m gonna head over to Carla’s and help her and Em out for the day.”

A small smile settled onto your face. “Em will be really happy to see you.” And both she and Carla would be happy to have the extra practiced hand no doubt. You almost wished you could join them, to help Emily prank her father by rolling paint all over his clothes if for nothing else.

“Yeah, it’ll be good to see her, too. I didn’t get much sleep last night so I spent a lot of time thinking. About work, about life and…everything, and that’s why I took a few days off. I’m gonna try to convince Em to go camping with me over the weekend. I want to spend some time with my daughter before she graduates and goes off to college.”

“Don’t worry. You’ve got some time before that happens,” you murmured soothingly. You knew this was something he worried about, he’d told you often enough. He felt like he was losing time with Emily, that the window he had was closing more and more with each passing day. That feeling only ramped up after Em had been taken hostage. You couldn’t blame him; for the first few months after, you’d hugged Emily a little longer and a little tighter whenever you saw her, something she endlessly rolled her eyes at but kindly allowed you to do each time.

“Not much.”

You bit your lip, choosing to ignore Pops who appeared in front of you, frantically gesturing behind him. Rolling your eyes, you turned to the side, lowering your voice further. “I think it’s a great idea. I’m glad you’re doing this, taking some time for yourself and to spend with Em. To hell with everyone and everything else these next few days, you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled.

“And if anyone calls you from the department, I will personally run over their cell phone with my car. Twice.”

“About that…”

“Beau,” you growled in warning, walking away from Pops who was dogging your every step.

“That’s why I’m calling you. I’m not taking any calls from work for the next few days, especially if I get Em to go camping with me. I don’t want any interruptions and I trust that you and Hoyt will have a handle on things while I’m gone.”

You pressed your lips together, hating to lie to your best friend, but it was important for him to take this time. He never willingly took time off and you knew he needed this time with Em, even before he said anything. And for him to have come to this decision so suddenly, you knew he meant it. There was never a single second that Beau hadn’t made himself accessible, day or night, for anyone in the department. So for him to go radio silent intentionally for any period of time, he meant business. “Understood,” you agreed.

“But, Y/N, saying that…I do want you to call me if anything pops up that you think I should know about.”

And there it was, the caveat. “I’m not calling you, Arlen. Like you said, we’ve got this.”

“I mean it. I’m only available to you, Y/N, no one else. I trust your judgment and I know you’ll filter out most of the white noise. But also, if you need anything…you call me.”

“I appreciate that but we’ll be okay,” you reassured, quickly stepping into an empty interrogation room and shutting the door on Pops. You managed to wedge a chair underneath the knob before he could try it, smirking in satisfaction when the door failed to give way and he started knocking instead while calling your name. “And listen, I don’t want to intrude on family time but if you do need a hand with the painting, I can always drop by later, repaint everything you did, take my pineapple pizza I’ll definitely be ordering for a job well done, and go.”

“Hey! I know how to paint!”

“Yeah, you also told me you knew how to cook, too.”

“I can grill,” Beau snapped.

You heard the chair beginning to budge and you pressed all of your weight against the door, trying to prevent Pops from opening it. “Uh huh. I think the charred left corner of your deck would beg to differ.”

“Wow. That was one time and everybody was okay. When are you gonna let that go?”

“Whenever you allow me to call in some hot Helena firefighters next time to put out the fire and let me watch rather than making me extinguish the flames myself with a fire extinguisher I luckily had in my car that day. I was cheated out of muscles and sweat and big, big fire hoses that get everything wet….all that water pressure—”

“Ah, ah, alright, alright. Stop. Bad images in my head. Never coming out now thanks to you.”

You couldn’t help but snicker. “You deserve it. Now, seriously, go enjoy your time with your daughter and leave the department to us. If you need help later or if you just need anything, give me a call.” Pops was pushing against you and you were ashamed to admit you were losing the battle. Your feet were sliding against the floor as the door struggled to open, the chair having been lost some moments ago.

“Thanks. I guess I’ll let you go so you can get to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay,” you struggled to get out. “Have fun. Give Em a hug from me.”

“Copy that. And Y/N?”

Pops finally pushed into the room and you had no choice but to abandon your post or be flat up against the wall. “Yeah?”

“Be careful out there.”

Pops was hunched over catching his breath, glaring up at you and pointing to his watch, mouthing “Hoyt”. You smiled sweetly down at him. “You know me. Always am.”

You hadn’t heard from Beau later that day but it was just as well. You had had the day from hell just as you’d expected. You settled down on your couch in the comfiest clothes you could find and binged Real Housewives of Dallas. You normally couldn’t stand these types of reality shows, but this one had grown on you and always provided the perfect distraction. That and Floribama Shore. Beau had been present for at least the first two episodes of the latter to which he stared over at you in disbelief, promptly got up to grab a beer, and told you that he didn’t know you. And you replied back that you didn’t mind as long as he was willing to bring a perfect stranger a beer from your kitchen.

While you were indulging in your comfort show, Em had sent you pictures of the painted rooms as promised. It looked good and you liked the colors she and Carla had picked out. You broke into hysterics when one picture had Beau posing in front of a perfectly painted wall with a smug smirk and holding his arms out proudly. Beau was so lucky you didn’t have the password to the department’s website; you would have uploaded the picture so fast it would have made Poppernak’s head spin. Another picture showed a great selfie of all of the family. You liked that one, all genuine smiles and plenty of paint all over every single one of them (Em obviously had taken your suggestion and started a paint fight, you were so proud), Emily posing in the middle between her parents. It was nice to see them enjoying themselves, especially after the year they’d had. 

You knew it hadn’t been easy for Carla to choose to stay in the same area she and her daughter had experienced so much trauma in; she had told you as much. It was important to her to keep what family she had left together, that’s why she initially wanted to move back to Houston. But when Beau had convinced her to stay, she did it to keep Emily’s family together though it cost her quite a bit personally. You did everything you could to help, leaning into the friendship you used to have with her back in Texas. Not to mention Carla and Cassie had also formed their own sort of friendship thanks to the mutual links of Beau, you, and Emily. There were quite a few times Denise had mentioned to you that she and Cassie had stopped in for tea when Carla was still trying to sell the old property. You all provided as much support as you could, to let her and Emily (and Beau by extension) know that they weren’t alone here.

Your phone chimed with the arrival of a new picture. This one had you bowled over with laughter for the next two minutes. Emily had taken a selfie of her and Beau making horrified faces at the camera, an open box of Hawaiian pizza next to them, the pineapple clear as day on top of the cheese (sans the sauce as you had ordered). Emily had added in text: “Thanks for the pizza…I guess?” You rolled your eyes, smiling, and texted her back that it was pizza and if she could get her dad to eat a piece, she absolutely had to record a video and send it to you. She sent a winky emoji back with a thumbs up when a new message came in from Beau.

You shrugged and quickly typed out a reply. 

You snickered at the emojis he sent in response. Beau didn’t usually do emojis, that had to be Em’s influence, and you sure were getting a kick out of it. 

Satisfied that you had more than made your point about pineapple on pizza being superior, you snuggled down into your pillows and started another episode of Real Housewives. Seeing location shots of Dallas intercut with the episode caused a little pang inside your chest. Perhaps that’s part of the reason you tolerated such a dramatic show. You had only been to Dallas once or twice but still, the images reminded you of home and it provided a tiny salve for your heart, something you needed after such a rough day. Smiling when you were flooded with happy memories, you slowly closed your eyes and you were out like a light before Leanne and Brandi could start fighting for the umpteenth time over who betrayed who while Stephanie watched from the background looking torn.

And the rest of the week had been just as rough. You had come to refer to it as Hell Week between you and Poppernak. Hoyt made sure to give you the worst calls she could pull from the list each morning, either giving them to you directly or giving them to Pops knowing you would join him so he had backup. And you were pretty sure she had Madge dispatching any bullshit calls to you both during the day. Truthfully, it was starting to wear on you a little but you refused to show any trace of it to Hoyt or anyone in the department. That’s exactly what she wanted and you’d die first before giving that spiteful little blonde one goddamn inch.

Poppernak had even mentioned something one afternoon as you rode about an hour outside of town for a new case. It wasn’t his norm to make comments on the ongoing conflict between you and Hoyt, choosing to cruise in neutral territory instead, but that’s how much of a fucked up week it had been.

“Man, what did you do to piss off Hoyt this time?”

You shrugged a shoulder. “I was born, I guess.”

He chuckled nervously and shook his head, turning his gaze back onto the road. “Or something.”

“Or something,” you echoed. 

You hadn’t heard from Beau in a couple of days except for a single text message to let you know that he had convinced Emily to go camping after all. He asked if everything was going okay and you assured him that all was well. It was a lie of course but you refused to tell him the truth. You were a big girl and you could take care of yourself. Besides, you chose to meet Hoyt’s petty bullshit with indifference. 

And now you here were, schlepping through three foot long grass like you were on a fucking safari, looking for some old couple’s runaway dog and finding every conceivable pile of dog shit for you to plow through. Pops was whistling and calling out for the dog in his area and you were pretty sure he hadn’t moved any further since you warned him about potential snakes. Normally, you would have rolled your eyes and planned to tease him later about his apprehension, but in this situation, you couldn’t help but think that he was the smart one. You kept surging forward blindly, hence the crap all over your shoes. 

You had made it a few more feet when suddenly a dark head popped up not that far from your position, startling you and making you gasp. Your eyes went wide when you realized what you were looking at. Was that a…wolf? A goddamn wolf? 

Poppernak called out the name of the dog, and the wolf’s head snapped in his direction. You were stunned, but you still had enough presence of mind to call over to your partner albeit calmly so as not to startle the animal in front of you. “Pops! Shhh.”

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t catch that. You see something?” He yelled back, making you grind your teeth together.

You carefully raised a hand in his direction to get his attention. “I need you to be quiet,” you carefully enunciated as you watched the wolf staring you down. “There is a wolf in front of me.”

“I’m sorry, did you say a wolf?” Poppernak cried out in a mix of disbelief and alarm. You bit your lip to keep from screaming out at him to shut his trap like you desperately wanted to. The more loud sounds that were made seemed to agitate the wolf and you were right in its sights. If you somehow survived this, you were going to give Pops a serious talking to. If you told him to shut it out in the field while working with him, he needed to shut his damn mouth, no questions asked, case closed.

“Pops, stop making so much noise. You’re pissing it off,” you said as calmly as possible.

“What do you want me to do?” Pops chose to loudly whisper instead. “Should I call Animal Control?”

The wolf bared its teeth at you and growled. Great.

“Don’t think that’s gonna help.”

You watched as the animal tensed and coiled in a backwards motion, almost as if it was getting into an attack position. Your instincts warred with one another; you wanted to reach for your gun to protect yourself but you also didn’t want to make any movements that might pose more of a threat. From the continued growling and its yellow-eyed laser focus on you, it was obvious you were already considered one.

“Y/N,” Poppernak stage whispered to you. “What do I do?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered back. “They didn’t cover wolves in training at the academy.”

“I don’t know, either.”

“You’re from around here, Pops. How the hell do you not know what to do?”

“Hey, they didn’t cover this in training here, either. That’s why we have Animal Control.”

“Pops!”

“Okay, okay. Whatever you do, don’t look it in the eyes. I think I remember my grandpa telling me if you do that with a bear, they’ll take it as a challenge and it’ll make them want to attack.”

The wolf growled at you and coiled back further, making you let out a nervous breath. “It’s a little late for that, Pepper Snaps.”

“Hang on, Y/N. I’m coming.”

“No! Stay where you are!” You yelled out in shock, wincing when you realized your mistake.

You saw more teeth and heard another growl. You decided the hell with it, and slowly moved to grab your gun. This thing was going to attack you, that was obvious, and while you’d rather it just turn and run in the opposite direction, you had to defend yourself. At that very inopportune moment, your phone vibrated in your pocket and your head snapped up, gasping when you noticed the animal ready itself to spring at you. This was it; you were done for. One of your last thoughts was that you hoped your being mauled by one of the apex predators of Montana finally lit a fire under Beau to prompt him to action and he ripped Hoyt a new one for sending you and Pops out into the fucking wilderness with no backup or protection.

“Goldie!” The old man called out from the porch. “Here, girl!” He’d obviously given up trusting that you and Poppernak would find his dog. Based on the wolf in front of you, you had a feeling you knew where the missing pet had gone. 

Almost as if it heard that thought and it had reached its limit on irritation, the animal growled and sprung forward at you, making you surge backwards and cry out as you fell promptly on your ass, right into several piles of dogshit you had somehow missed before. You held an arm up in front of your face as a last defense and closed your eyes, anticipating the feeling of those sharp teeth you had seen and the ensuing pain.

“Y/N!” Poppernak shouted. You could hear him running towards you. “I’m coming!”

 Much to your surprise, the pain didn’t come. The impact didn’t even happen. Your eyes snapped open in time to see a tail whooshing past you. In shock, you watched as the wolf broke into a run towards the house. 

“Pops! It’s heading towards the house!” You managed to get out. “The Knutsons!”

“Oh shit!” Had this been any other time, you would have laughed in surprise at Pops’ cursing; he never cursed. But this wasn’t any other time. “Mr. Knutson, get in the house! Get Mrs. Knutson and get inside! NOW!”

You went into a panic when you saw Lee make eye contact with the animal and instead of grabbing his wife and fleeing into the house as Pops instructed, a huge smile broke out onto his face and he held his arms out. “Goldie!”

The wolf increased its speed and you pulled your gun, jumping to your feet and running as fast as you could, Poppernak not too far behind you, both of you thinking the same thing: Lee was old and his eyesight might not be the best. He probably believed he saw his dog running towards him and being overwhelmed with relief, he didn’t think anything of it. He probably hadn’t even heard Pops’ yells too well, either, but even if he had, he’d probably think the deputy was mistaken. He was seeing his dog returning home to him. There was no way you were going to match the speed of the animal, it was going to beat you to the Knutsons, but you were determined to try. You just hoped you got there in time enough that the injuries wouldn’t be too bad. 

You heard the wolf bark as it jumped onto the porch, right at the old man. “Get back, sir!” Poppernak yelled next to you. Your lungs and legs were burning, but you pushed yourself to pick up speed and gave it all you had, making leaps over little objects that littered the portion of the yard you were in to give yourself more momentum.    

But to your surprise, the wolf stopped right before colliding with Lee, and instead raised up on its hind legs, placing its paws on his chest. “Shit,” you panted out and pumped your arms to help you move even faster. The wolf’s tongue was hanging out in between barks and you were close enough now to hear it let out a few cries, too. But thankfully, it didn’t attack Lee, or Marilyn when she got up and hurried over, the smile on her face mirroring her husband’s. It also didn’t bite Lee as he petted its huge head.

“Goldie! Where have you been? We’ve been so worried about you!” The wolf barked in the man’s face, making him laugh.

You and Poppernak came to a halt right in front of the house and began to raise your guns to porch level and stopped, thinking the older couple was still confused. “Mr. Knutson, be very careful,” the deputy warned. “Don’t make any sudden movements.”

Both Lee and Marilyn glanced down at you in confusion. “What do you mean?” The former asked.

“Mrs. Knutson, carefully step away, slowly,” you added. You were still working out in your head how you were going to get Lee safely out of the way and how you could scare the wolf off so you wouldn’t have to shoot it. Poppernak could then call Animal Control and get them out here so the Knutsons would be safe. Catching a whiff of yourself, realizing it was actually wolf shit you had been trekking through this entire time, you even entertained the thought of looking into getting someone out here to clean up the property for them.

Marilyn’s brows furrowed. “Why? You found our Goldie!”

“Ma’am, that’s not Goldie,” Pops calmly stated, both of your eyes still centered on the large animal who growled in your direction.

“Yes, it is!” Lee insisted.

“Sir,” you began. “I’m afraid it’s not.” You really didn’t desire to tell these people that their beloved dog was gone, most likely killed by the predator in front of them, but that was something you could worry about after everyone was safe. 

“It is too Goldie! Watch!” Lee glanced down at the animal, forcing it to make eye contact. “Goldie, sit!”

And to both yours and Poppernak’s shock, the wolf jumped down and did just that, looking as docile as any well-trained pet. 

“Good girl,” Lee praised. “Now, lay down.” The wolf again did as the old man instructed, wagging its tail.

You and your partner exchanged a mystified look; had the Knutsons been feeding a wolf this whole time? And now it was following their commands? How was this even possible? Just when you thought you’d seen everything.

Lee began to laugh. “Oh, I see. You think she’s a wolf from the wild, right?” 

You failed to see the humor and swiftly nodded, still keeping your eye on the animal. “She’s not?” Poppernak asked in disbelief.

“Oh my Lord, no. Goldie here is a hybrid. We’ve had her since she was a pup. Got her from a breeder. So you can relax now and put those guns away. You’re making her nervous.”

Poppernak slowly placed his back in his holster but you simply lowered yours. The wolf may now be watching you in keen interest, tongue lolling out of its mouth and panting heavily, but you still remembered how aggressive it looked back in the yard when you came across it. You weren’t blindly trusting what the old man was telling you; you needed proof first.

“Mr. Knutson, when I asked you what your dog looked like, you told me it had black fur and yellow—”

“Eyes,” Lee finished for you. “That’s why we call her Goldie. They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

One glance at the wolf confirmed the rich gold staring back at you. 

“But when we asked you the breed, you said it was a mutt, half King Shepherd. Not to mention it was about to attack Y/L/N here.” You gave a subtle nod of appreciation to your partner at that last little mention. Both of you were trying to desperately make sense of this odd situation. Especially since you asked for a photo of Goldie and you were told you didn’t need one since she had to be lost on the property somewhere, possibly hurt or dying. It wasn’t like her not to come home by nightfall; her being missing for two days straight, she was in trouble. Their urgency overrode your attempts to get a visual of the animal you were looking for. You’d even tried to persuade them to supply you with a photo anyway but Lee had been adamant, which is exactly why you and Pops had been making your way through the endless yard.

“That’s her dog half. And a hybrid is a mutt,” Lee mused, smiling down at his pet. “I know she’s big and scary looking but I assure you she’s harmless. You probably just scared her is all. She doesn’t care for trespassers and she’s a little wary of visitors.” Marilyn nodded along with him.

You looked over at Pops who gave you a shrug, unsure of how to proceed. You let out a heavy breath and slipped your gun back into your holster, your gaze landing back on the wolf who laid her head down on her paws, almost as if she was trying to look innocent of the accusation that had just been made against her. Your eyes lifted to her owner when a thought hit you.

“You got her from a breeder, you say? Surely you’ll have papers for her then.”

Lee scratched at his head. “We do, somewhere. It’d take us forever to find it but, hey! You ask the sheriff or Miss Hoyt. They know Goldie, they know she’s legal.”

Your jaw tensed at the mention of the undersheriff. You knew she was saving the worst calls for you to go out on and you had accepted this week was pure hell that you would get through no matter what, but this…this was just plain vindictiveness at its best. Now the smirk she’d given you when giving you this call made sense, along with her insisting Animal Control wasn’t needed when you mentioned it and the Knutsons were a lovely old couple that just needed a little hand holding since they didn’t have anyone else, their kids and grandkids having long ago moved out of state.

“Y/L/N, the dog is probably somewhere in the yard and they don’t even know it. It would mean a lot to them if we respond to let them know we’re taking it seriously. Just go out there, look around, whistle a few times, and if the dog doesn’t come running, then tell them we’ll put flyers up. Open and shut case, trust me.”

You weren’t a violent person by any means. You could certainly hold your own in a fight but that wasn’t the way you preferred to resolve things. But if Hoyt were here in front of you right this second, you would have decked her.

You glared over at Poppernak who was gaping over at you. He seemed just as surprised as you so that made you feel slightly better. At least the whole department hadn’t been in on this. You gave Lee a curt nod and turned to head back to the car, more than done for the day, when you heard a loud gasp from behind you.

“Oh, honey.” You spun around, thinking the worst only to find Marilyn holding a hand over her mouth, her gaze intent on you, while Lee appeared to be struggling to hold in a laugh. You knew it before she even said it. “You are just covered in…in…”

“Dog shit,” Lee finished for his wife and burst out into laughter. Goldie began barking excitedly, almost as if she was trying to laugh along with her owner. She ignored the glare you sent her way and kept on barking. You glanced down and you were indeed covered in the excrement. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Pops hold a closed fist up to his mouth, making a sound that suspiciously sounded like a chuckle and taking a step away from you. You scowled over at him, daring him to join in the laughter. The chuckle morphed into a sudden cough mixed in with a throat clearing, his expression turning sheepish.

Marilyn didn’t laugh, though. “I have some baby wipes,” she offered.

“Thank you,” you grumbled, not able to inject any gratitude into your voice just then. You hoped you didn’t sound too rude. Baby wipes were certainly better than nothing. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Marilyn hurried inside the house and you couldn’t help but continue to glare at the dog who watched you intently, tongue hanging out, not a care in the world, and a gleam in her golden eyes that confirmed for you that she found your predicament just as entertaining as her owner did. You shot her a ferocious glare as you worked to get your jacket off carefully with Poppernak’s help. Seeing the excrement now caked underneath your fingernails, you left out an irritated huff. Hell week indeed.

A/N: This was the image I had in my head of Goldie btw (black fur, yellowish eyes):

This is a full on wolf but definitely the look could fit the hybrid I think, depending on genetics and the dog breed of course.

Please let me know if you would like to be tagged for this series.

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[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

here to stay | rhett abbott x oc

Summary: After his tough ride, Rhett visits his own special place and decides that the next time he sees Tessa, he needs to apologize. (wc: 5678)

Warnings: background ocs, flashbacks, sex mention, alcohol, a wild rebecca appears

✎……PREVIOUS CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || NEXT CHAPTER

Shit.

She just looked so pretty. Caught in the firelight’s glow. Long hair down and tucked behind her ears. Eyes big and blue as days in July looking up at him with a kindness so loud he could nearly see it. And her hand, soft as silk, felt so small in his own. Pressed against his cheek — feeling the old scar that still hurt if he thought about it too much.

He didn’t remember much from after he fell off that bull in Montana. Just that he was mad he couldn’t drive himself home. Perry coming to pick him up a day later. Being sequestered in his room when he finally got home, falling in and out of consciousness only long enough to take his pain medication. He didn’t remember anyone coming to check on him. 

Tessa would have come to check on him. Just a feeling from somewhere deep in his gut. 

Rhett knew he should have let go of her hand. Should have just kept talking to her, getting to know her. But she just looked so pretty. And Rhett was never very good at doing what he should — instead, he was great at doing what he wanted. And right then, he wanted her closer. Pressed against him, feeling her warmth against his own. Taking in that pink tint to her cheeks and watching it spread.

Maybe then he could siphon off just a little more of that kindness she handed out so freely. Maybe then he could feel closer to her in every way possible. 

The grip he had on her hand was loose, easy for her to pull out of, as he tugged her nearer. The pink in her cheeks turned brighter and he watched it travel down, down into the collar of the crewneck sweater she wore. 

He hadn’t noticed that necklace before. An oval locket with some flower embossed on it on a golden chain. It was slightly crooked, and Rhett didn’t know what he was doing until he was already reaching for it — fixing it. Her chest visibly heaved up and down and it made his jaw clench. Once he started, he found he couldn’t stop. He traced the chain of her necklace until he felt cool skin, eyes following the movement so he wouldn’t have to see her reaction. 

Rhett knew he should have stopped. Should have pulled away.

But she was so pretty. So genuine and kind. And what if it worked out this time? What if she wanted more than one night with him — a life with him? What if she could look past all that he was and see what he could be — for her? Rhett barely knew her. Couldn’t even remember who she was a few days ago. A thought that still made an acute guilt tug at his stomach. But Tessa Abernathy was different from every other girl he tried to date.

Maybe that should have been a warning not to try to get with her like every other girl he tried to date. 

But it was a cautionary message he couldn’t see — or didn’t want to. Because truth be told, he had been stiff in his jeans since his second ride. And the thought of kissing those parted pink lips was only making it worse. 

So he thumbed at her locket, wondering what was inside, felt the groves of the embossed flower beneath his touch. He pushed in close, was sure he felt her leaning too.

“D’you wanna go f’r’a walk?”

Leaning back, he finally looked into her face. Cheeks pink. July eyes wide and reflecting the light of the fire. She had to want it too. Right? Alone. Secluded. Pushing her up against a tree somewhere in the dark. His lips on hers and hands touching everywhere. The thought alone made him bite back some noise of pleasure. He pushed in even closer, thumb still working at her locket. She felt so small right then. Barely coming up to his shoulder, looking up at him with her half-full beer clutched between her hands. He wanted to just tip up the brim of his hat and kiss her — out in the open where everyone could see. 

But then she was pulling back. Slipping away. And he let her go. 

Shit.

He could have sworn…He thought she wanted it just as much as he did. Rhett stared at the spot she once occupied. Could see the imprints her feet left in the long grass. Part of him wished he could take it back. Do all those things he should have done instead of what he wanted to do. But the other part of him just felt defeated.

Why would a girl like that want to be with a guy like him? Who didn’t bring much to the table except heartache and a little cash. Who only made girls realize they wanted to be married to somebody else. Who couldn’t even stay on a bull long enough to qualify. A tired cowboy not worth a damn. 

Rhett lifted the bottle to his lips — but it was empty. 

Fuck. 

He needed another drink.

A hand suddenly slapped him on the shoulder and a cold, fresh beer was pressed into his hands. He looked over with raised brows. Walker Browning stood at his side grinning at him.

Walker didn’t look twenty-four. He looked well into his thirties, maybe pushing forty. He blamed it on the ranch work and being out in the sun too much. But Rhett and everyone else knew it was from all the drinking and smoking. And the ranch work too. He had a cigarette dangling from his lips even now, tendril of smoke rising into the air before he took a long drag. It didn’t help that his deep brown beard and hair were getting long — side effect of being broken up with his hairdresser girlfriend for the time being. 

“She’s new,” Walker said as he pointed the remainder of his cigarette in the direction Tessa ran off in, smirk buried beneath his wirey mustache all the while.

Rhett knew what he was getting at. “Shut up.” 

“Just wonderin’, man. Didn’t think y’could strike out li’that — not since high school, anyhow.” 

He didn’t think he could either. It had been so easy for so long to get girls in his bed. Mostly out-of-towners, buckle bunnies who solely referred to him as cowboy and were so eager to say they had fucked a bull rider. He couldn’t remember any of their names — and they probably couldn’t remember his either. Just warm bodies to help him scratch an itch. Fill a void. 

Did he want Tessa to fill that void? Scratch that itch? Get in his bed? He wasn’t so sure. Really, if he was honest with himself, he would have been fine just talking with her the rest of the night. Sharing a few beers and laughing. Getting to see her just right smile and learn something — anything, about her. He should’ve done just that.

A different kind of void. 

A different kind of itch. 

Rhett dropped his empty beer bottle on the ground and took a long pull of the new one. 

“Tough luck all ‘round, buddy.” Walker clapped him on the shoulder again and turned them both to face the fire and the surrounding groups of bodies on the edge of darkness. “Goo’thing there’s some other pretty ladies who wan’ y’r attention.”

It was obvious who he was talking about. They stood out like sore thumbs in the usual Wabang crowd. Pretty brand new flannel shirts, belts and buckles studded with rhinestones, boots white and spotless. Country girls with just a little too much money to actually ever do any work. Following the rodeo just in case a rider noticed them.

A redhead with perfectly curled tresses and a white cowboy hat on grinned and waved at him. He flashed a small, reflexive smile back. She was gorgeous. Of course she was. Curvy and tall with her makeup perfectly done. She looked lifted out of one of those magazines his mom liked to read but never take advice from. She looked like a lot of girls he had slept with before. 

She’d call him cowboy and kiss with too much tongue and moan oh, yes one too many times. She’d steal his hat and expect him to follow the rules. And she’d be gone by morning. Onto the next town. Onto the next rodeo and the next rider. 

Rhett still felt some itch inside him he couldn’t quite scratch. Some void that needed filled. And he was sure that redhead would help — for a little while. Then he’d be right back where he was right then.

Alone and lonely. With a different kind of void and a different kind of itch. 

He wished Tessa was still there.

But he messed that up — because that’s really what Rhett Abbott was best at. Fucking shit up.

Chugging the last of his beer, he tossed the empty bottle onto the ground. “Nah, man. M’good.”

“You serious?” Walker questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah, jus’gonna…Go home.” 

“D’you hit y’r fuckin’ head r’somethin’?”

Rhett rolled his eyes. “No. Jus’ tired n’pissed off.”

“What — ‘bout the girl?” Walker questioned. 

“‘Bout the ride, jackass,” Rhett scoffed as he pulled his truck keys from his pocket.

Walker’s hard, bristled face turned soft. Brown eyes crinkled at the edges as he smiled sympathetically. Rhett looked down at the keys in his hand. He didn’t want that — not from Walker. The first person he told at the age of six that he wanted to be a bull riding champion. The only person to quietly come to every single one of his rides, within his means. The guy who popped his shoulder back into place more times than he could count. The person who gave him a stick-and-poke tattoo in Utah when they were just a little too drunk. Rhett didn’t need pity from him. 

But then that sympathetic smile that held so much, twisted into a shit-eating grin. “Damn — you must really like this girl.” 

“Jackass,” Rhett repeated with a laugh. 

“Not denyin’ it,” he went on, stamping out his cigarette. “Y’even know’er name?” 

“I do…” Rhett trailed off, suddenly remembering that Walker would know Tessa.

And he wasn’t so sure if he wanted Walker to know it was her. Who would then tell Laney when they inevitably got back together. And suddenly the entire town would know that Rhett was interested in Tessa Abernathy. If he could even call it that. 

“Y’gonna tell me who it is?”

“Nope.”

“You dick n’a half,” Walker laughed then slapped him on the shoulder. “Have’a goo’night, man.” 

Rhett jutted his chin out at him, watching him back away. “Where you off to?”

Even in the dim light, he could see his friend’s cheeks flush. “Gon’ call Laney.”

“Good luck,” he chuckled. 

And then he was alone. Surrounded by people he’s known his whole life — all complete strangers. With a sigh, he walked back to his blue GMC, and started driving out of that pasture. Careful of the windrows so neatly lined up.

But he didn’t go home. 

Instead, he found himself driving north, towards the Abernathy Ranch. He had never been on their land before and only really heard gossip in town about it. Tourist ranch. Sellouts. With their guest cabins and riding lessons and horseback trail tours. Rhett didn’t know what to think about it. But the Abernathys seemed to be doing alright for themselves, despite Wabang’s general grumblings. They pulled in more money than the Tillersons and business for everyone in the county. But they never acted like they had all that money, like the Tillersons do. They gave most of it away — to what he didn’t know. But to him, that seemed more like a good thing than a bad. And Nate Abernathy was a good man. Jolly. Liked to talk anytime he caught Rhett at the feed store or they were at the Handsome Gambler bar at the same time. 

He could see Nate Abernathy in Tessa clearly. In her generosity. In her work ethic.

Apples never fell far from trees in Wabang. 

In the twilight, he drove past the sign for the ranch, and wondered if Tessa was there. A new guilt and shame twisted in his guts. He sighed — adjusted the lay of his hat. That trick worked on every other girl he tried it on. But Tessa wasn’t like other girls. She probably wasn’t even thinking about him like that. She just wanted to have fun at the bonfire and he had to go and ruin it for her. 

Some part of him wanted to turn around and find her at her family ranch. Apologize for the way he acted. If only to make himself feel better and maybe to talk to her again. But that would only serve to make things worse — and probably make Nate Abernathy stop talking to him at the feed store.

A few miles past the Abernathy Ranch entrance, he turned right onto a small gravel lane. He drove on this for half a mile, the long grass and weeds growing between the gravel tracks tickling the underside of his truck. On either side of the lane was a thin forest of pines and aspens. 

When the truck broke free of the tree line, he was in a valley. Wild and unkempt, dotted with wildflowers that stood out brightly in the sunshine. But in the darkness, the valley just looked empty.

Except for an unfinished house at the end of the lane. Nothing more than a concrete foundation and part of the wood frame.

“I gotta ask, where’d you get the money?” the Wyoming state realtor asked as Rhett, only nineteen years old, handed over the check.

He won the auction online, at the internet cafe downtown. No one else bid on the property. It was the fifth time it had gone up for sale. He got it for a steal. 

“Grandpa left it t’me.” Rhett shrugged.

“This really what ya wanna buy with y’r inheritance, kid?” the realtor questioned, still tucking the check away in his padfolio.

Rhett looked around at the valley caught in the mid-morning light. Full of long grasses and wildflowers of many different shades. Surrounded on all sides by hills, easy sloping and steep, and forest — a little stream cutting through the southern portion of the flat land. It was like something out of one of the picture books he read as a kid. 

“Yeah. This’s it.” 

The truck pulled to a stop at the end of the gravel drive, up close to the unfinished house. He hoped to one day get a carport for it, or maybe even a garage, but that was a long way away. After five years, he hadn’t even finished the framework yet. 

But really, he didn’t mind. 

Because it was his. His own. His land. His house. Even if it wasn’t finished. Even if the work felt never-ending and everything cost too much. One day, it would be done. And he could have a place that was just for him. Away from his family, away from the ranch. An escape. An oasis. Some place where he could just be himself without worrying about what everyone expected him to be. 

A bull rider. The no good second son. Going nowhere fast.

He knew where he was going. And it was here. 

Getting out of the truck, he climbed into the bed and opened another Heineken. He sighed, leaning back against the cab and plucking his stetson from his head. The night in early September was chilly, but he didn’t mind. It felt somehow cleansing. 

It might not be complete, but it still felt like an escape to him. Because instead of being home and facing his father’s disappointed smile or his mother’s pitiful pat on the back — he was here. Looking up at the sky full of stars and the half-full moon. Listening to the quiet of crickets chirping and frogs by the creek. 

His place. 

The place he would go when he just needed to be alone, to take a minute to breathe, to let the world settle around him. He always felt his most happy in that valley. Where the sun shined and the wind coming off the hills cooled his skin. Where there were no worries about the ranch or riding or relationships or anything. Where it was just him and the great Wyoming sky — stretching forever and infinite. 

Sometimes, however, there was someone else. 

The girl on the hill. 

He used to see her more often when he first started working on the house. After the foundation got poured and he could do the rest of the work himself. She would ride up over the easternmost hill on a beautiful chestnut pinto mare. Horse whinnying and throwing its head. But the girl always seemed calm, poised, in control. On top of that hill was a large oak tree, its leaves thick and providing a great circle of shade. After a minute, the girl would get down from the horse and sit under the tree. Out of Rhett’s sight. He knew she wouldn’t be able to tell he was watching her, the tree was about as big as his thumb at that distance and she nothing more than a grain of rice. But that didn’t stop him from just looking at her out of the corner of his eye as he kept working. Waiting for her to reappear from out from under the tree and climb back up onto her horse’s saddle.

He couldn’t tell much about her. And over the years, he saw less and less of the girl on the hill. Her appearances turning into rare treats that made a smile quirk his lips at the sound of her horse cresting the grassy knoll. 

Sitting in the bed of his truck now, he pushed a hand through his hair as he looked to that eastern rise with the big oak tree illuminated by the moon. Leaves glittering like starlight. 

Sweat dripped down his back as he hoisted another two-by-four out of the bed of his truck. Hopefully, with these, he would be able to finish the framework today. It was a small hope, considering he had to be at the fairgrounds in a few hours, but he would try to get as much done as he could. 

Then he heard that familiar whiney, the quiet pounding of hooves.

Looking up, he saw her. The girl on the hill atop her pinto mare. Long hair blown back from her face by the cool breeze. She wore a white shirt today, making her stand out in contrast to the green grass and cerulean sky. Rhett smiled as he looked down at the wood in his hands, then back up at her. It had been two weeks since the last time their paths crossed.

Rhett lifted the two-by-four more securely into his arms and continued his work. Walking around to the other side of the house, out of her line of sight. 

If she even knew he was there. She had to…Right?

He could feel it — her eyes on him. Watching him while he worked. But he never minded, though he could never put his finger on why. There were no hairs standing up on the back of his neck and he never felt any need to hide from her. Any piece of him, even the stuff that wasn’t pretty to look at. It was like there was some sort of silent agreement between them. A shaking of hands despite the distance. 

I see you and all that that meant. 

Rhett finished nailing in the board and wiped at his face. In the mid-morning sun, it was starting to get hot. Sweat poured from his temples and made patches in his undershirt. With spare nails between his lips, he stripped off his flannel — leaving him in only the white t-shirt stained by the heat.

Rounding the corner of the house, back towards his truck, he glanced up and saw her standing next to her horse. He laughed softly. She didn’t even have hold of the reins. Trusting her horse to stay nearby for when she was ready to leave. What a connection the two of them must have shared. One built by time and patience and love.

He threw his flannel into the bed of the truck and picked up the water he left sitting on the tailgate. Kenny Rogers’ The Gambler playing quietly from the cassette player.

Rhett looked up at the hill again. At the girl standing with the tree and the horse. And he wondered what she was like. If she would want something like this. The little house in the valley. Away from everything and tucked in amongst the hills. Made with someone’s own two hands and years of hard work. 

He took a sip of water and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her disappear underneath the shade of the oak tree.

The girl on the hill. 

Rhett found himself thinking about her sometimes. He couldn’t help but conjure some image of her in his head. Hardworking, ranch girl through and through — washed with lavender soap to try to cover the smell of hay. Simple and kind, preferred horses to people. A kind of beauty that Wabang tried to hide under the monotony and dust.

May just take a chance on a guy like him. 

His girl on the hill. 

Taking another long drink of his beer, he turned his attention back to the stars. Head leaned back against the glass of the truck cab, letting the sounds of crickets and twilight wash over him. For a moment, he could forget that his riding season was over. That until spring he was stuck with nothing to do but work on the family ranch — his funds for working on the house dried up along with his rodeo career. He could forget that he was Rhett Abbott. Bull rider, no good second son, going nowhere fast. 

Right where he was supposed to be.

The following morning, Rhett woke up early. Much to the rest of his family’s surprise. They expected him to still be out of the house, wallowing in alcohol and some girl’s bed. Instead, he strode down the creaky stairs at six o’clock fully dressed — no need for sneaking this time.

His mom and dad watched him pleasantly surprised but still solemn as ever at the kitchen table. While his older brother, Perry, smirked into his coffee. Perry’s wife Rebecca didn’t have any reaction or anything to say, as was her usual. Just glanced up from her breakfast and flashed her brother-in-law a smile. 

His niece Amy was the only one to say anything. 

“Grandpa didn’think you’d wake up, Uncle Rhett,” she said with a toothy smile.

He only hummed in reply, passing behind her chair with his hands on her shoulders and dropping a kiss to the top of her blonde head. The decanter in the coffee maker was full — Rhett got down a mug and filled it to the top. 

“Didn’t even think y’were home,” his father grumbled from his place at the head of the table.

Rhett still didn’t say anything. 

“What time’d ya come in last night?” his mom asked.

He shrugged. “Late.” 

It was nearly three in the morning when he stumbled his way inside, surprised he hadn’t woken everyone up with the way the house squeaked and moaned with every step. He felt tired in his bones, as he leaned against the counter and sipped at the black coffee, eyes heavy and headache tingling at the base of his skull.

But waking up on time and getting to work felt like the only way to keep them all from talking about his performance the night before. Telling him to keep at it and there was always next time. He didn’t want to hear it. So it was best to keep busy — and maybe take on any chores that required a trip into town. 

“Since y’re up,” Rebecca chimed in, pushing her empty plate away from herself. “Think y’can take Amy to school? I’gotta open shop n’can’t be late.” 

“Sure,” Rhett mumbled into his mug. 

He and his sister-in-law weren’t close. Even though they lived in the same house. They were like ships passing in the night or planets orbiting around the same sun. They didn’t talk and they didn’t need to. But there was some sort of silent understanding between them, too. A nod and a wink and a passing of favors. 

Because Rebecca didn’t want to be on that ranch just as much as Rhett did. She grew up in Casper, in a neighborhood by the country club. Her and Perry met in college, got married right after graduation and had Amy soon after. Their plan was to move to Casper, be close to her family and open a hair salon together. Rebecca cutting hair and Perry helping run the business side of things.

Instead, they ended up back in Wabang when she was still pregnant. Plans set aside for the moment to save up, so Perry could help at the ranch for the season. But then Amy came and the next season was here and Perry felt responsible as the first son. The one who would inherit it all one day. So they stayed. Leaving Rebecca festering like an open wound ever since. Stuck with nowhere to go and longing to be somewhere, anywhere else. Cut off from the world in that town with nothing and her family two hours away.

“Oh, while y’re out, y’can stop by the store n’pick up dog food,” Cecelia added. 

Rhett shared a look with Rebecca as he turned to get a plate down and scoop what was left of the eggs from the pan. “Yeah, okay.” 

So he drove Amy to school. Let her pick the music from the box of cassettes at her feet and smiled when she sang along to American Pie. Told her to have a good day as she jumped down from the truck and ran up the sidewalk towards the squat brick building.

He stopped at Odessa’s for another cup of coffee, something to wash down the painkillers with. His wrist was starting to ache, and the skin beneath the brace itched something fierce. The medical team at the rodeo said it was likely just a sprain — possibly some torn ligaments. A week or two in the brace should do him some good. But he was already starting to hate it, and he knew it would make working on the ranch difficult.

Paying for his cup and the side of bacon he ordered to go with it, Rhett left for the general store. Just a block away and the biggest shop front in town. Selling everything from groceries to basic household needs. If you wanted anything fancy or in bulk, you had to drive to Casper. And if they didn’t have something in stock, you just had to live without and wait and see next week. Rhett mostly found this system annoying. Especially when he was looking forward to having a certain snack in the cupboard. 

He didn’t want to drive two hours just for some damn Doritos. 

The bell above the door chimed as he walked in. The older woman at the counter, who had been working there since the seventies, greeting him with a warm smile and a wave. Rhett waved simply back as he strode towards the dog food at the back of the store. Oldies music crackled over the speaker system and his boots squeeked loudly on the linoleum floors. 

It didn’t take him long to find what he was looking for. The brand of dog food piled up on the bottom shelf right where it always was. He adjusted his hat as he squatted down and hoisted it onto his shoulder — his wrist screaming. 

He flexed his braced hand as he walked back towards the register up front. Brow pinched in pain, wondering when those painkillers were going to kick in. When he heard a noise of frustration coming from the aisle he was about to pass. 

“Son of a biscuit,” they hissed. 

Rhett glanced into the aisle as he passed, but stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who it was.

Tessa Abernathy. Popped up onto her tiptoes as she stretched towards the top shelf, towards some dish soap. She looked so pretty, even in that gaudy fluorescent light. Hair pulled back from her face in a thick braid, pink sweater on underneath a pair of overalls. Her cart parked beside her was full of groceries, bags of soil stacked in the lower tray. A huff blew past her lips as her heels landed back on the floor, staring up at the soap like it had personally offended her.

A little guilt twinged inside him.

He should have done a lot of things differently last night. But he could make it right now. A chance to make himself feel better, to siphon off just a little more of that kindness, to just talk to her again.

So, he took a step towards her, mouth falling open to let her know he was there. 

But then she turned her head to look at him instead. Her blue eyes wide and startled. 

“Shit — uh,” Rhett cursed as he squeeked to a stop. 

“Rhett,” she breathed, hand to her chest. “Y’scared me.” 

Then she smiled, closed mouthed and eyes crinkled at the edges. She was wearing that locket again today. Gold with a flower embossed on the front. Rhett wondered if she wore it everyday and what sacred thing she kept inside — if she even kept anything in it.

He blinked hard as he glanced at the soap she had been reaching for. “Sorry. I — you need help?”

Tessa looked back over her shoulder then sighed. 

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” 

It felt like something was about to snap, an old rope pulled too tight, as he came closer. Reached over her shoulder to grab the soap easily and place it into her hand. She looked up at him through her lashes, just like she did last night. And this time, he backed away. He gave her the space she deserved. Even if he could feel the warmth coming off of her and she just looked so pretty. 

“Thanks,” Tessa muttered before she turned and placed the soap in her nearly overflowing cart. 

Rhett adjusted the dog food on his shoulder, worked the small piece of dip he had between his gums anxiously. The rope was on it’s last threads, the tension about to break, and he didn’t know what would happen when it did. He didn’t want to never talk to her again. He didn’t want to live with the fact that he ruined everything. He needed to make this right. He was just about ten steps away from knowing how. 

“Uh, look — “ He started, still searching for the right words and knowing he was going to come up short. “M’sorry ‘bout las’night. I think y’re one helluva girl and I just…M’sorry I’made ya uncomfortable, s’all. Wasn’t my intention.” 

Tessa looked up at him for what felt like a long time. Long enough to make Rhett squirm and look down at her shoes for some relief. 

Then she said, “S’alright. M’sorry I’ran off on ya.”

“Don’be,” he replied, looking up into her face. 

She was smiling at him again, genuine and kind. Made his own small smile quirk the corner of his mouth. 

“How’s the wrist?” she asked, elbows leaned against the cart handle.

“Hurts,” he said, surprised by his own honesty. “But s’not so bad.” 

“S’broken?”

“Nah — jus’a sprain.” 

“Should still take it easy though,” she said, looking down at his braced wrist pointedly before turning her cart around and heading out of the aisle. 

Rhett fell into step easily beside her. “Kinda hard when y’work a cattle ranch.” 

Tessa hummed in response, giving him a look he couldn’t quite read. A weight lifted from his shoulders. She was talking to him. Smiling at him. Looking at him like there was an understanding between them. A shaking of hands despite their skin never touching. Sharing that kindness so willingly and telling him to take it easy. When no one in his family had mentioned his injury once. The thought made something sour stir within him.

“S’with the soil?” he asked, nodding towards her shopping items as they came out into the main aisle. “Kinda late t’be plantin’ stuff ain’t it?” 

“Boy’s Home has a fruit n’veg garden out back — saves money n’gives the boys somethin’ t’do. S’on sale and’ll keep till spring, so…” she replied with a shrug. 

“They like it?”

“No,” she laughed, stopping her cart again just outside the cereal aisle. “But, gets’em usin’ their hands n’they c’n see progress on their work. Makes’em feel good ‘bouta job well done. Even if they won’admit it.” 

Rhett laughed lightly. He would have hated that kind of thing as a teenager too. But he still would have gotten excited at the first tomato blossoms. Would have had to hide his smile at the sight of tiny peppers that would only get bigger with time. Getting to eat something that grew in the garden he tended with his own two hands. 

Maybe a garden area at the house in the valley would be nice. 

“Well, um, I’have a lil’ more shoppin’ to do. Was nice seein’ you, Rhett,” she told him with a smile. 

“Yeah, you too,” he answered, throwing up his braced hand in a wave. “Hopefully I’ll uh…See ya around.” 

Tessa took a deep breath, something like courage swimming in her eyes, before she said, “Hope so.” 

Rhett smiled, blinked down at his feet, and before he was sure she could see the heat in his cheeks — he turned towards the register and paid for the dog food.

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[bullet-prooflove]

A problem child, I was rough

Tagging: @kmc1989 @yousigned-upforthis @trublu2u @alisbackalleybbq @defnotra3

Companion piece to:

Home - Jamie makes a discovery which leads to him making a home for the two of you.

Final Words - Kayce discovers the truth about Lee

Kayce has always been the problem child, at least that’s what he was told by both his parents. He was the wild one, the feral one, the disappointment. Whilst Lee dedicated himself to the ranch and Jamie studied, he was the one escaping into the trees at night so he could sleep out underneath the stars.

“They used to send a search party out every morning to look for me, Lloyd would always find me stashed under a tree or tucked away in a shelter I’d made. It would drive my parents demented.” He tells you one morning when you’re tangled up in bed together.

You’re propped up on his chest, the sheets draped across your bare skin. Your skin is still flush from your love making, your tangled hair falling across your features.

“You were basically Mowgli for the Jungle Book only with more clothes.” You smile and Kayce tilts his head to one side.

“Except in summer.” He concedes. “Trust me in the warm weather they saw a whole a lot more of me then they wanted to.”

“That still doesn’t explain this.” You say, tapping on the brand seared into his skin.

It’s the first time in the year you’ve been together that you’ve asked about the scar on his chest. Things between the two of you are getting serious. You’re talking about making the move to Montana because Travis has offered you a job on the mini ranch he bought for him and Gina after that nightmare with the Becks.

“One time I rebelled a little too much and my father wanted to remind me of my place.” He says quietly as he brushes a stray strand of hair back behind your ear.

“Your father…” You echo, your eyebrows furrowing into a frown as your fingertip trails over the scar tissue. “I think I’m beginning to understand why you left the Yellowstone and how we ended up living on Jamie’s ranch instead.”

We…

He loves the thought of the two of you living together here. He wants to ask you but he also wants your decision to move to Montana to be your own, not influenced by him or wishful thinking.

“He was trying to turn me into Lee.” Kayce returns to the conversation, his gaze meeting yours. “He was trying to force me into that legacy and I was letting him because I thought it was what Lee would have wanted me to do. Then I found his journals and I…”

He trails off for a second, his thumb chasing over the blush of your cheek. Those journals, they’d changed everything for Kayce, he’d seen a side to Lee that he’d never revealed to anybody else. He’d learned his hopes, his dreams and more importantly his sacrifices, all the things he’d done for Kayce and Jamie to set them free, so they didn’t end up trapped the way he was.

“All he wanted was for me to be happy.” Kayce tells you, his fingers combing through your hair. “And me, being here on Jamie’s ranch with you, that makes me happy.”

“It makes me happy too.” You tell him, your lips brushing over the flourish of the ‘Y’ etched into his skin. “It makes me very happy.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[folk-enjoyer]

Suggested song

"The Frozen Logger" The Weavers, 1951

"The Frozen Logger" was originally written and performed in 1929 by Jim Stevens (the man who popularized the folk legend Paul bunyan in his 1925 book "Paul Bunyan"

for his program on the ABC seattle network "The Histories of Paul Bunyan"

here's a segment of Jim Stevens talking about that himself:

Oregon Historical Quarterly Vol. 50, No. 4 (Dec., 1949) pp.235-242

it's possible that the song was performed by Ivar Haglund (notable for his prolific seafood themed songs and clam restaurant) in the early to mid 1940s on his radio show "Around the Sound" where he would sing folk music for 15 minutes, and I found a couple sources listing him as either the copyright owner of the song, or the writer (he did not write the song). He was friends with Jim Stevens, and it's likely that Stevens taught him the song.

Radio Daily, July 1944 and KJR flyer, 1942

Many secondhand sources mentioned that "The Frozen Logger" was based on an old tune or an old ballad, with words that were originally written by Jim Stevens, including Jim Stevens himself though he's not specific. I think i might be the first person ever to point out that the ballad it was based on belongs to the folk song family of "The Unfortunate Rake"/ "The Unfortunate Lad" (recorded here in the 1960s and performed by A.L. Lloyd) it has a similar story structure, similar characters, similar rhymes, and similar composition.

in " 'The Unfortunate Rake' and His Descendants" by Kenneth Lodewick, the original song is dated as being from ireland in 1790, and one of its earliest printings was in England in 1850 as a folk ballad

as you might be able to guess if you're familiar with cowboy ballads, this song is also the origin of "Streets of Laredo" or "The cowboys lament" which emerged in the late 1800s from cowhand workers. A cowhand in the late 1870s named Frank H. Maynard has claimed to write the song in 1876 and published his version in "Cowboy's Lament: A Life on the Open Range" in 1911 after it was published in Alan Lomax's "Cowboy Songs and Other Frontier Ballads" in 1910. in my opinion, i think this song could have multiple origins.

the oldest recording i could find was by Harry McClintock in 1928

as an aside, there was also ANOTHER lumberjack version of the song collected by John C. French called "The Wild Lumberjack" from Pennsylvania logging camps dated between 1870-1904/1905. performed here by Kenneth S Goldstein (1960s). This song isn't the origin of "The Frozen Logger" but it's interesting that there are two songs like this.

I believe that "The Frozen Logger" is an adaptation from the cowboy version. Jim Stevens grew up in Idaho and worked in Montana (where he mentions learning many songs) and in 1959, he gave an interview with Ivar Harglund about how he used traditional folk and country music and created new and topical lyrics for the Keep Washington Green Campaign in the 1940s

The first ever publishment and recording (That I could find) of "The Frozen Logger" was in 1947 by Earl Robinson in his Keynote Album, commented upon by the Chicago star by Raeburn Flerlage that same year.

The Chicago Star (Chicago, III.) April 5, 1947 (p.13). Library of Congress

Pete seeger, one of the Weavers, was (for some reason that escapes me) friends with Ivar Haglund (who was friends with Jim Stevens) and, like with the song "the Old Settler" , it is likely that Haglund taught the song to Pete Seeger who then, with the rest of the Weavers, performed it in 1951, popularizing the song.

for @slowtraincumming