Chapter Text
The house was quiet except for the ticking of the old clock in Y/N’s living room and the faint hum of wind outside her window. Rhett lay on his side, his arm draped lazily over Y/N’s waist, his cheek resting against the pillow. His body was bone-deep tired after another long day on the ranch, and the kind of sleep he wanted was the kind that would swallow him whole and spit him out in the morning sun.
But there was a problem.
Y/N was still awake.
He could feel it in the way her body shifted against him, the restless twitch of her legs beneath the blanket, the steady rhythm of her breaths that weren’t quite slow enough to mean sleep. Rhett squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to ignore it. If she’d just close her eyes and drift off, he could do what he always did. He could rest his head against her chest and listen, let her heartbeat drown out the noise in his head, let it lull him like nothing else ever had.
But Y/N wasn’t sleeping. And Rhett couldn’t ask her to.
“You still up?” her voice finally came, low and dry, like she already knew the answer.
Rhett grunted, keeping his eyes closed. “Mhm.”
Y/N rolled onto her back, and Rhett’s arm slipped from her waist to the mattress. He cracked one eye open, just in time to see her staring at the ceiling, her hair spread out over the pillow. She didn’t look tired. She looked thoughtful. Stubborn, even, like she’d decided that sleep wasn’t happening tonight and she was perfectly fine with that.
“You’re exhausted,” she said, glancing at him. “Why don’t you just go back home if you can’t sleep here?”
“Because I can’t sleep there either,” Rhett muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. “I sleep better here.”
That earned him the faintest smirk, quick but visible in the glow of the streetlight that leaked through her blinds. Y/N didn’t reply, and Rhett knew that meant she was about to stay awake even longer just to prove some point he didn’t fully understand.
He sighed and rolled onto his back, staring at the same ceiling she was. The silence stretched, broken only by the clock’s tick and the distant groan of the wind outside. Rhett swallowed. His whole body wanted to shift closer, to drop his head where it belonged, right on her chest, right where the sound that soothed him waited. But she was awake. He couldn’t just do it.
Not without giving himself away.
It started weeks ago, maybe a month now. At first, it was innocent, just the comfort of lying close, his head against her shoulder or collarbone every time they slept hugging each other. But the first time he dozed off to the sound of her heartbeat, it had been like stumbling onto something sacred. A rhythm steady and alive, soft but sure, one that slowed his own racing thoughts. Ever since then, he needed it. Needed her. But it wasn’t something he could explain, not without sounding ridiculous.
Rhett Abbott —bull rider, ranch hand, tough as they come— couldn’t sleep without listening to his girlfriend’s heart.
He turned his head, sneaking a look at her. Y/N’s eyes were open, reflecting the pale light. She noticed his glance and raised an eyebrow.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.” Rhett looked away quickly, heat rising in his cheeks despite himself.
Y/N narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious, but didn’t press. That was both a relief and a danger, because Y/N never let things go for long.
She shifted onto her side, propping her head on her hand. “You always get this weird look when you’re tired.”
Rhett frowned. “What look?”
“That one. Frowning and grumpy. You look like a scolded kid.”
He swallowed hard, suddenly wishing she would just close her eyes and drift off. Because if she kept staring at him like that, sharp and curious, she’d figure it out. She always did. She was too smart for him, for that town. But she was still there, still at his side.
Rhett forced a half-smile, trying to deflect. “Maybe I’m just thinkin’ about how annoying you are when you can’t sleep.”
Y/N laughed, soft but genuine, and shoved his shoulder. “Oh, shut up.”
The sound of her laugh made his chest ache, not in the same way as the beat he craved, but close. Familiar. Like it had all his life.
Y/N eventually settled back against the pillow, but her eyes stayed open, glinting in the thin stripe of moonlight from the window. Rhett could tell by the twitch in her jaw that she wasn’t even trying to fall asleep anymore. That was Y/N, stubborn as the Wyoming winters, too proud to admit defeat even to something as stupid as insomnia.
Rhett stared at her profile, his body taut with an ache he couldn’t explain out loud. He wanted to lay his head against her chest so badly it almost hurt. The urge wasn’t about comfort in the way most folks thought of it. It wasn’t about sex, wasn’t even about closeness, though he’d take any excuse to be close to her.
It was about the sound, the rhythm, the steady reminder that she was there and alive, that she hadn’t gone anywhere, that she chose to be with him.
His eyelids drooped, exhaustion tugging him under, and his thoughts slipped loose into the past.
He could still see her as a kid, grease smudged across her cheek, sitting cross-legged on the cold concrete floor of Rick’s auto shop. She was smaller then, but her eyes had been the same— sharp, unflinching, always daring him to try something she had already figured out. While Royal talked with Rick and Perry poked around the stacks of tires, Rhett had usually ended up circling Y/N like a restless colt, looking for some way to get under her skin.
“You can’t even hold a wrench right,” he’d teased once, picking one up and dangling it over her head.
Y/N had snatched it back with a glare that could have cracked glass. “At least I know what this does, dummy. You just like shiny things.”
He’d laughed, but secretly he’d liked the way she said it, like she was always a step ahead, always unbothered. Perry didn't play with them back then, used to say that he was "too grown up" to get involved in their childish fights, although sometimes he would join Rhett in annoying Y/N if he got bored enough. But Rhett had always orbited Y/N, even before he realized why.
When they were older, the orbit hadn’t stopped. He remembered the shock on everyone’s faces when they started showing up together, side by side, like it was the most natural thing in the world. The town had pegged Y/N as the kind of girl who didn’t need anybody, let alone a boyfriend. And Rhett— well, he had a reputation of his own. They didn’t match on paper. But it had felt right, as natural as breathing.
And that’s why he couldn’t tell her now. He couldn’t risk giving her one more reason to laugh at him. Even if it would’ve been the sweet kind of laugh, the one that ended in kisses and she murmuring about how cute he was.
Rhett blinked, tugged back to the present by the faint rustle of sheets. Y/N had shifted again, turning toward him. Her face was close now, closer than he expected, and for a dizzy second he thought she’d caught him.
“You ever think about when we were kids?” she asked suddenly, her voice quiet but cutting through the dark.
Rhett swallowed, careful with his words. “Sometimes.”
She gave a small huff, almost a laugh. “You were such a pain in the ass back then.”
That pulled a grin out of him, lazy but real. “Still am.”
“Yeah, but now I find it cute.”
The room went quiet again, but Rhett felt the air shift between them. Her confession was casual, tossed like a stone into water, but the ripples moved through him deep. He wanted to close the gap, to bury his face against her chest and hear what that admission sounded like from the inside, the thud of her heart when she said she liked him, not just as a childhood nuisance but as the man who made her fall in love —in some way he didn't understand yet—.
He almost moved. Almost.
But Y/N’s eyes were still open, watching him. Waiting. And Rhett, stubborn in his own way, just lay there, the secret pulling him in two.
The clock in the living room struck midnight. Its faint chime rattled through the walls, too soft to be loud, too persistent to be ignored. Y/N groaned, tossing her arm across her forehead.
“I hate nights like this,” she muttered, closing her eyes in another failed attempt to sleep. “It’s like my brain forgot how to shut off.”
Rhett turned onto his side, propping his head on his hand. His eyes stung from exhaustion, every muscle heavy with the need for rest. But none of it mattered unless she closed her eyes.
“You gotta stop thinkin’ so hard,” he said. “Just… Relax.”
Y/N cracked one eye open at him. “Oh, thanks, Doctor Sleep. That’s real helpful advice. Why didn’t I think of that?”
Rhett smirked despite himself. “Hey, I’m serious. You get wound up about not sleepin’, then you can’t sleep ‘cause you’re wound up.”
Y/N rolled onto her side to face him, mirroring his posture. “And what about you? You’re lookin’ pretty wound up yourself.”
That hit a little too close. Rhett felt his jaw tighten, his hand flexing against the pillow. He forced a shrug, casual. “Long day on the ranch. Muscles don’t know how to quit yet.”
Y/N’s eyes narrowed, skeptical. She was too damn sharp. Always had been. “Mm-hm. Or maybe you just want to be a good boyfriend and not leave me awake alone right now. That it?”
Rhett’s throat caught, too quick, too guilty. He barked a laugh to cover it, shaking his head. “Don’t flatter yourself, love.”
“Oh, come on. Admit it. You used to be out drinkin’ half the night, fallin’ asleep God knows where.” Y/N grinned like she’d won the shiniest prize. “Now you’re at my place every night like some big loyal dog.”
Rhett rolled his eyes, but the heat in his cheeks betrayed him. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe.” She leaned closer, her hair brushing his arm. “But you like me impossible.”
And she wasn’t wrong. He did. He liked her fire, her sharp tongue, the way she never let him skate by with half-truths. But right now it was dangerous. Because the longer she looked at him with that smart grin, the harder it got to keep his secret pressed down where it belonged.
Rhett tried to change the subject. “Remember when your uncle Rick caught me sneakin’ into the shop after hours?”
Y/N snorted. “How could I forget? You were tryin’ to ‘borrow’ spark plugs for your beat-up truck. He nearly wrung your neck.”
“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t ’ve needed ‘em if Perry hadn’t fried the damn ignition.”
Y/N’s laughter filled the room, bright and unrestrained, and for a second it eased the tightness in his chest. He loved that sound. Almost as much as the other one. Almost.
When the laughter faded, silence fell again, thicker this time. Y/N reached out and traced a finger absently along his jaw, not looking at him, just feeling him. And Rhett, in his tired haze, leaned into the touch without thinking. His head dipped a fraction closer to her chest before he caught himself, snapping upright again.
Y/N noticed. Of course she noticed.
Her brows lifted, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “What was that?”
Rhett froze, searching for an escape. “What was what?”
“That little move you just pulled. You looked like you were about to-” she mimed laying her head down dramatically on her own chest, complete with exaggerated sighing noises.
Rhett groaned and dragged a hand down his face. “Y/N...”
She grinned wickedly, sensing blood in the water. “What? You gettin’ shy on me, cowboy?”
He glared at her, but it only made her grin wider. Y/N thrived on his irritation, always had.
“Go to sleep,” he muttered.
“Can’t. Too busy wonderin’ why you’re actin’ like that.” She poked his chest, playful but probing. “C’mon, Rhett. What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?”
His heart thudded, loud and uneven. If she pressed much harder, she’d have the truth spilling out before he could stop it. And wasn’t that the thing about Y/N? She always found the crack in his armor, and once she spotted it, she never let go.
Rhett shut his eyes, praying she’d lose interest, praying exhaustion would finally drag her under. But when he opened them again, she was still there, bright-eyed, waiting.
And he realized he wasn’t gonna last much longer.
Rhett thought maybe, just maybe, he could tough it out. If he kept quiet, if he held still, Y/N would eventually get bored of poking at him and drift into that restless half-sleep. He could wait. He’d waited every night before.
But Y/N was no ordinary opponent. She was stubborn, clever, and most dangerous of all, she knew him better than he knew himself.
One minute passed. Then five. The clock ticked, wind scraped against the siding, and Rhett’s eyelids kept falling heavy only to snap open again. Y/N hadn’t moved. She lay there on her side, studying him with that smug little curl of her lips, like a cat who’d cornered a mouse.
Finally, she broke the silence.
“You know,” she whispered, “if you keep starin’ at me like that, I’m gonna start thinkin’ you’re obsessed.”
The word landed too close. Rhett swallowed hard, his pulse betraying him. He turned his face toward the ceiling, hoping the shadows hid the truth. “I ain’t starin’.”
Y/N hummed, unconvinced. Then she shifted closer, so close he could smell the faint trace of motor oil that never seemed to leave her skin no matter how much soap she used. She lowered her voice, teasing but gentle. “Rhett Abbott… What is it you’re hidin’ from me?”
His chest tightened. He wanted to say nothing, wanted to shrug her off. But his body betrayed him. Exhaustion weighed him down, and the pull —that stupid, irresistible pull— had him leaning in before he realized it. His head dipped, brushing against her collarbone, lingering just above where her heartbeat thrummed.
Y/N went very still.
Rhett froze too, shame crashing over him like cold water. He pulled back instantly, cursing himself under his breath. “Shit-”
But Y/N caught his jaw in her hand, gentle but firm, keeping him from retreating further. Her eyes were wide, glimmering with amusement and something softer.
“Wait a damn second,” she murmured. “Is that what this is?”
Rhett’s mouth went dry. “What?”
Her smile spread slow, victorious. “You’ve been tryin’ to sleep on my chest, haven’t you?”
Heat flamed his face. He tried to jerk away, but she held on, laughing now, low and sweet. “Oh my God. You have. Haven’t you?”
“Y/N-” Rhett groaned and buried his face in his hands, knowing that his secret had ended there. “It’s not that, it’s just... I- uh. I sleep listening to the sound of your heartbeat.”
She pried his hands away, still laughing. “Rhett Abbott, tough rodeo star, can’t fall asleep unless he listens to my heart like a baby with a lullaby. That’s the cutest damn thing I’ve ever heard, baby.”
“Don’t,” he muttered, half-growl, half-plea. “Don’t make fun of me.”
Y/N’s laughter softened, but her grin stayed. She slid closer, pressing her forehead against his. “Oh, I’m never lettin’ you live this down. But only because it’s adorable.”
Rhett’s chest ached, a mix of mortification and relief. “I knew you’d tease me.”
“Of course I’m gonna tease you, it's my job as your girlfriend.” she whispered, brushing her lips across his cheek. “But I’m also gonna let you do it. Every damn night until you get sick of that.”
He opened his eyes, meeting hers. For once, she wasn’t smirking, not fully. Her expression held something gentler, a tenderness she didn’t show often. It unraveled him, left him raw.
“You really don’t think it’s stupid?” he asked quietly.
Y/N shook her head, cupping his face in her hands again. “No, Rhett. I think it’s sweet. Kinda silly, yeah. But sweet. And I like that you need me that way.”
Something in him loosened. The tension he’d carried for weeks slipped free, replaced by a bone-deep calm. Carefully, hesitantly, he lowered his head again, this time with her permission. Y/N shifted to make room, guiding him down until his cheek rested over her heart, relaxing her breathing to calm her heart rate.
The sound rushed into him at once. Steady. Strong. Alive.
He exhaled, a shudder of relief rolling through his body. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer. For the first time that night, his eyelids didn’t fight him. The weight of exhaustion began to ease.
Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, her touch absentminded but soothing.
“See?” She whispered into his hair. “Told you I don’t mind. In fact… I love it.”
Rhett cracked one eye open, peering up at her from his new perch. “You’re just sayin’ that.”
“Nope. I love knowin’ I’ve got somethin’ you can’t live without.” She smirked, pressing a kiss to his temple.
He groaned into her chest. “You’re gonna hold this over me forever, aren’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
But her voice was softer now, her hand steady in his hair, her heartbeat drumming the rhythm he craved. And Rhett, finally, finally, let go.
The last thing he heard before sleep claimed him was Y/N’s laugh —quiet, fond— and the heartbeat that had become his favorite sound in the world.