I shove my hair into a messy braid and step into the hallway. The cabin is quiet.
Then I hear soft movement in the kitchen. A clink. The hiss of a kettle.
Of course, he’s already up. Of course, he’s already functioning like a normal person.
Meanwhile, I’m standing in the hallway trying to remember if I brushed my teeth while also wondering why “normal person” even means anything when nobody feels normal on the inside.
I pad into the kitchen and stop.
Tex is at the counter, sleeves rolled up, forearms flexing as he slices something with slow precision. His hat is on the hook by the door, and his hair is a little mussed.
The kitchen smells like coffee and bacon. I notice the soft lighting again. Nothing harsh. No fluorescent buzz. I didn’t realize how much that mattered until I stopped bracing for it.
He looks up the moment I enter. His gaze lands on me and lingers for half a second too long.
My skin prickles.
“Mornin’,” he says.
“Morning,” I echo.
He gestures to the coffeepot. “Coffee?”
“You need to ask?”
His mouth twitches. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
He pours coffee into a mug and slides it across the counter. I wrap my hands around it, feeling warmth seep into my fingers.
I take a sip and nearly moan, clamping my lips around the sound before it escapes.
Tex’s eyes darken anyway.
“Better?” he asks.
“Better,” I admit.
He nods, satisfied.
That nod makes my chest flutter and my stomach clench. I want to be someone who satisfies him—not in a desperate way, but in a chosen way. Like I could be enough without trying so hard.
I do want that. I don’t know how to want that. I’m not supposed to want that. Except?—
My brain buzzes again, and I force those thoughts down by focusing on practical things.
“So,” I say, leaning against the counter, “what’s the plan today, Captain Schedule?”
“Fence line on the south pasture got hit overnight. Probably deer. Maybe a bull. I’m going to check it.”
My mouth quirks. “And I’m coming.”
His gaze sharpens. “You don’t have to.”
“I know. But I want to.”
The words hang between us, neither defiant nor timid, just honest.
Something shifts behind Tex’s eyes as he watches me for a minute, like he’s assessing whether I mean it or if I’m performing again.
