Keegan rolls his sleeves with that careful precision every morning, and I watch like the ranch itself depends on it. He is too quiet, too willing to bend under my hand, and the dread of sending him away claws at my collarbone scar.
The contract between us promises seed and obedience, but it cannot name what happens when my palm finds his bare skin in the hayloft. Discovery would ruin everything we have built on this dusty land.
Tonight the door closes with only the horses outside to hear. I rest my hand on his hip and wait for the breath that decides whether I claim him or let him go.
