DYNASTY - kayce dutton

chapter eight

FLASHBACK

THE EARLY hours of the morning crept in quietly through the cracks in the old wooden blinds of Kayce's room. The moonlight filtered in, casting soft shadows across the room, while outside, the Montana sky was still dark, holding onto the last traces of night. The house was silent, save for the soft, rhythmic breathing of a young Kayce Dutton, who lay sprawled out on the bed, fast asleep.

Next to him, Reagan was wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling, her mind restless in the quiet. Every few minutes, she'd turn her head, glancing at Kayce, watching the rise and fall of his chest. She found herself holding her breath every time his chest seemed to stay still for a moment too long. She couldn't help it—it felt dangerous to be here, tucked away in the heart of the Dutton ranch, where every shadow seemed to carry the weight of the family's expectations and secrets.

She sighed softly, turning on her side to face Kayce. The sight of him asleep, his face peaceful and boyish, made her heart clench with a warmth she couldn't quite put into words. They weren't just sneaking around for the thrill of it; they were in love.

That teenage kind of love that felt all-consuming, like nothing else in the world mattered but the moments they stole together.

But there was always the lurking guilt. Every time she slipped into his house after midnight or climbed into his truck for a midnight drive, she felt like the eyes of the entire ranch were on her, watching, waiting for her to make a wrong move. It wasn't just the fear of getting caught-it was the fear of being torn apart.

"Kayce," she whispered, nudging him gently in the side.
He didn't budge, still deep in sleep, his light-brown hair messy and his arm hanging loosely over the side of the bed. Reagan smiled softly, watching him for a moment longer before nudging him again, harder this time.

"Kayce," she hissed, her voice urgent now. She couldn't afford to fall asleep. They couldn't. The ranch hands would be up soon, and if anyone found out she'd spent the night here, it would be over.

This wasn't the first time they'd found themselves in this position-finding stolen moments where they could be together, just the two of them. And yet, no matter how many times they did this, Reagan couldn't shake the unease that came with being on the Dutton ranch. There was always a sense that someone was watching. Always.

Kayce stirred beside her, mumbling something incoherent before rolling onto his back, one arm draping over his eyes.
Reagan bit her lip, her fingers lightly tracing his chest, trying to gently wake him up.

"Kayce, come on," she whispered again, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched him. He always looked so boyish when he slept, so different from the rugged cowboy persona he wore during the day. Here, in the quiet of his room, he was just Kayce. Just hers.

After another few moments, he finally blinked his eyes open, groaning softly as he stretched.

"What time is it?" he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

"Almost 5," Reagan replied, glancing toward the window. "I have to go before the cowboys start waking up."

Kayce sighed, turning his head to look at her, his gaze soft and warm in the dim light. "Baby, you don't have to go yet," he said, reaching out to brush a strand of hair away from her face. "We've got a little more time."

Reagan smiled at the touch, leaning into his hand for a moment, savoring the warmth of it. "You always say that," she teased lightly. "And then we almost get caught."