Shadewood no it damn well doesn't

something snapped like ice in mid-spring, and like those frozen chunks flowing fiercely, briggs felt himself splinter and disconnect. he wanted to rage, to shout; he wanted to prove to red that nothing about him had goddamn fucking changed. she was young and spitfired, a flame-headed fool.
colt wouldn't admit it, but that last time, almost dying twice — well. it had changed him. his teeth were not retired to pasture, they were only more careful.
but trying to explain anything to her flashing eyes told colt it might only end in humiliation. he thought about running her off now, but his heart hitched like a wagon chain.
he kicked a breath audibly into the air and turned away from her. colt wasn't one to panic for shit, but the thought of losing red in this sort of humiliation lodged a hard little kernel of steely emptiness under his breastbone.
colt refused to be who she thought he was.