65 "montana or texas?"

The day starts easy.Those are my favorite kinds.Emily and I move through the barns without rushing, the air calm and warm, horses dozing instead of pacing. No emergencies. No blood. No yelling. Just the steady comfort of routine—checking hooves, cleaning small cuts, logging notes. I like days where my shoulders don't live up around my ears.Patsy plays outside like always, sitting in the dirt with her little plastic horses lined up just so. She talks to them like they're real, giving them jobs, telling them who's in charge. Every once in a while she looks up to make sure I'm still there. I always am. She's the light of my life. Emily hums while she works. She's in a good mood today—lighter than usual. I don't think much of it at first.Then Jimmy shows up. He leans against the fence, hat tipped back, talking with Travis about something dumb and loud. Patsy spots him instantly. "Uncle Skinny!" she yells, scrambling to her feet and sprinting across the yard. Jimmy laughs and scoops her up like she weighs nothing. "Hey there, tiger," he says, tapping the sheep trophy she refuses to leave behind. Emily notices him then.I feel it before I really see it—the shift. The way she straightens, smooths her shirt, suddenly finds a reason to walk closer. She asks him questions she already knows the answers to. Laughs a little too hard. Touches his arm when she talks. Once, twice. Too familiar.My jaw tightens. I don't say anything.I never do. I tell myself it's stupid. Jimmy doesn't belong to me. I haven't claimed him. I don't get to feel this way. So I swallow it, keeping my eyes on my work, keep my voice steady when I talk. But jealousy is a quiet thing. It doesn't scream—it sits heavy, like a stone. Emily steps closer to Jimmy again, brushing past him on purpose this time. I see the way he stiffens just slightly. Polite smile still in place, but his attention drifts—away from her. To me. Our eyes meet for half a second. Just long enough.Something passes between us.He knows.

Later, when Emily walks off to take a call, Jimmy wanders over to where I'm rinsing my hands at the trough. "You okay, Wills?" he asks casually, like he doesn't already know the answer. I nod too quickly. "I'm fine."He watches me for a moment, then glances over his shoulder in the direction Emily went. "She's friendly." I shrug. "She's nice."He hums, unconvinced. "You get quiet when you're not fine." I don't look at him. "I'm always quiet.""Thats true," he says softly. "You just hide a lot in that brain of yours" That lands harder than it should. Patsy runs back over then, dirt on her knees, joy on her face. Jimmy kneels to her level, asking about her horses, listening like nothing else in the world matters. I watch the way he is with her—gentle, patient, steady. He loved her. Jimmy looks back up at me, eyes softer now. Reassuring. Like he's saying something without words.

...

The grill pops and hisses like it's working harder than it should, flames licking up around the cheap grate Jimmy helped me fix last month. The sun is sinking low, turning everything gold and soft, like it's trying to make this place look prettier than it really is.Patsy runs circles around Jimmy in the dirt, shrieking with laughter while he pretends to limp like he's wounded. She's got a stick sword and a wild imagination, and he lets her win every single time.I flip a burger and watch them, chest aching in that quiet way it's been doing more often lately."You cheatin'," Jimmy tells her dramatically as she tags him."Nope," she says proudly. "I'm just faster than you."He groans and collapses backward onto the ground. "I've been defeated."She cheers like she conquered a kingdom.When she finally tires herself out, she plops down on the steps of the trailer with her plate, feet swinging. Jimmy dusts himself off and comes to stand beside me, close enough that our arms almost touch."This thing's barely hangin' on," he says, nodding toward the trailer.I sigh. "Tell me about it."I poke at the grill for a moment before saying it. "I'm thinkin' about buyin' a new one."He raises a brow. "Yeah?""Somethin' I can tow," I continue. "A little bigger. One with actual room for her. Maybe even a tiny table." I smile faintly. "Wouldn't hurt to have walls that don't shake every time the wind blows.""That'd be good," he admits. "You've earned that."I nod, then add quietly, "I might... go see my dad." The air changes.Jimmy's shoulders stiffen just enough that I notice. "Montana?"

"Yeah."

He exhales slowly. "Willie..."

"It'd just be a visit," I say quickly. "For Patsy. For me. It's still my home."His jaw tightens. "That place hurt you.""So did a lot of places," I shoot back, sharper than I mean to. "Doesn't mean I never go near 'em again."He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just don't like the idea of you goin' back there. Of you seein' him."

"Walker?" I ask.He doesn't answer. Doesn't need to."And if I do?" I press, heart thumping now. "If I see him and feel somethin'? If I decide I wanna stay?"Jimmy looks at me then, eyes honest and scared in a way I don't see often. "Then I lose you." That hits harder than I expect.I swallow. "Jimmy... that's my past. That land, that family—it made me. I can't pretend it doesn't exist just because it scares you."Patsy goes quiet. I notice too late.She's watching us now, eyes bouncing between our faces, soaking in every word. Curious. Thoughtful."Mama," she asks softly, "what's Montana?"My chest tightens.I turn the burner down and crouch in front of her, brushing hair from her face. "It's where I grew up, baby. You know. The state next to Wyoming on your map."

"Oh that's right...Is it far?"

"Yeah," I say. "Pretty far."She considers that. "Is that where my daddy is?" The world goes very still. Jimmy freezes behind me.I take a breath, steadying myself. "Yes baby. That's where your daddy is," I say gently. "But you've got people here who love you too."She nods, accepting it easier than I ever did.When I stand again, Jimmy's eyes are on me—soft now, conflicted."I'm not sayin' don't go," he says quietly. "I'm just sayin'... I don't wanna lose what we got."I look at the little trailer. The grill. My daughter licking ketchup off her fingers. The man standing beside me, trying not to ask for something he's afraid he doesn't deserve.

The burgers finish cooking, the moment stretching thin between us like a wire pulled too tight. I slide one onto Patsy's plate, then one onto mine, but my appetite is gone.Jimmy stays quiet, watching the sky turn bruised purple and blue. And that's when it creeps in. The question I've been circling for weeks. I set the spatula down and look at him. "Jimmy... what are we doin'?"He shifts, caught off guard. "What do you mean?"

"I mean—" I gesture vaguely between us, at the way he shows up, the way he looks at my daughter like she matters, the way my heart keeps tripping over itself when he's near. "Is there actually somethin' here? Or are we just... comfortable?" He doesn't answer right away.Patsy hums to herself, happily unaware, ketchup smeared on her cheek."I don't wanna pretend," I continue quietly. "I've done that before. I don't wanna wake up one day and realize I read too much into things. Or that you were just passin' time."Jimmy's eyes soften, but there's a seriousness there now too. "Willie, I ain't playin'."

"Then what is this?" I ask, voice barely steady. "Because some days it feels real. And other days it feels like I'm standin' at the edge of somethin' and you're holdin' me back with one hand while reachin' with the other."He steps closer, careful not to crowd me. "I'm scared," he admits. "Scared of messin' it up. Scared of pushin' too hard and losin' you. But that don't mean it ain't real."I search his face, looking for cracks. For doubt.All I see is honesty. "And Montana?" he adds softly. "That ain't about jealousy. That's about knowin' you could walk back into a life that already broke you—and maybe not come back."My throat tightens. "And what if I do come back?" His voice drops. "Then I'd still be here."That answer hits me deeper than any promise.Patsy looks up suddenly. "Mama, are you and Uncle Skinny friends?"I crouch again, smoothing her hair. "Yeah, baby. We're friends."Jimmy lets out a breath—half relief, half something heavier."But..." Patsy adds thoughtfully, "you look at him like you look at me when I'm sleepy."I freeze a but confused. Jimmy laughs under his breath, shaking his head. "Kids see too much."I don't correct her. "What's that mean?" I laugh. " means you loovveeee him!" She teased with a very loud giggle. "Alright! You booger! Go on and wash up! I'll be in to tuck you in in a minute"

"Yes ma'am!"

After Patsy pads inside, the door clicking shut behind her, the quiet rushes in all at once.The air feels thicker. Charged.I barely have time to turn before Jimmy's hands are on me. not rough, not cruel, just certain. He presses me back against the cool metal siding of the trailer, one arm braced beside my head, the other settling at my waist like it belongs there. Then he kisses me.Not careful. Not hesitant.Like he's been holding it back for weeks and finally gave up trying.His mouth is warm and firm, moving against mine with a hunger that makes my knees go weak. I gasp into the kiss, fingers curling into his shirt without thinking, and he deepens it, slow but insistent, like he's trying to say something words wouldn't do justice.I don't want it to stop. Every doubt I'd been carrying melts away under the way he holds me like I'm precious and wanted all at once. His hand slides along my side, steady and confident, making my breath hitch. I lean into him, heart pounding, letting myself feel it instead of fighting it."Jimmy..." I murmur, not as a warning, not as a protest, just his name.He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breath heavy, eyes dark with emotion. "I've wanted to do that all damn night," he says quietly.I swallow, hands still gripping him. "Then don't stop now." His thumb brushes my jaw, tender this time, like he's grounding himself.Jimmy's hands slide to the front of my blouse, fingers fumbling just a little—not from nerves, but from want. He pops one button free, then another, breath heavy against my neck.I arch into him without thinking."Jimmy..." I moan, his name leaving me in a soft, needy sound I don't bother to hide.He groans low in his throat, forehead dropping to my shoulder as if he's fighting himself. His grip tightens just enough to make my pulse race, his mouth tracing along my jaw, my ear. My eye roll back at his suckling lips on my neck.  "You have no idea," he murmurs. "No idea what you do to me." I do though.I feel it in the way my hands shake when I touch him back. In the way my heart is hammering like it's about to leap straight out of my chest. In the way I want to forget everything else, Montana, the past, the fear. staying right here in this moment where someone wants me like this.He kisses me again, slower now but deeper, like he's memorizing me. My back presses to the trailer wall, the metal cool against my skin, the contrast making everything sharper. His hand lingers, down to my jeans. I can feel his fingers loving on me. I could be soaking right now. God I needed him. I needed him immediately.

Then—

"Mama?"The door creaks open.Everything stops.Jimmy freezes instantly, stepping back like he's been burned. I fumble with my blouse, fingers clumsy, heart racing for an entirely different reason now. Patsy peeks her head out, hair mussed, eyes sleepy. "I heard voices," she says, rubbing her cheek against the doorframe.I rush to her, scooping her up before she can see anything more than she should. "Hey, baby," I murmur, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You okay?" She nods, already half-asleep again, arms curling around my neck.Jimmy stands a few feet away, hands shoved deep into his pockets, face flushed but gentle. He gives me a look—not frustrated, not annoyed. Just... understanding."I'll head out," he says quietly. "See you tomorrow." I nod, holding Patsy close, watching him walk off into the fading light.My heart is still racing.But this time, it isn't from fear.It's from knowing whatever this is between us...it's real enough to stop when it needs to... and strong enough to still be there when we start again.