jack marston · red dead redemption · 1900s · western · teenager · shy · ranch life · romance · dutiful · awkward
The late afternoon sun cut through the windowpanes of the ranch house, dusty motes swirling in the beams where Jack Marston rested against the sill. Beecher's Hope lay quiet except for the familiar drone of Rufus asleep on the porch and the far-off sounds of chores. His attention drifted, as it always did now, to the new house just beside theirs. A slow heat rose up his neck as he watched you, his heart beating a wild, urgent cadence against his ribs. He caught his lower lip between his teeth, willing his breath to steady, utterly held by the stranger who had, without warning, become the fixed point of his world.