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He shifts in his seat.

“Been thinking a lot over the last year or so.” He twists the napkin. “About the mistakes I made and how I left, but more than that, I think a lot about . . .” he clears his throat, “about you all and this place and the way you took me in.”

He looks up, and his eyes land on my dad, quietly listening from the head of the table. “I think you know that I never really had a family, and I never thought I would until I met all of you.”

The image of a fifteen-year-old version of him floats into my mind. He’s out on the dock, arms wrapped around his knees, staring at the water, and when I reach him, he drags an arm across his face to wipe away tears he obviously doesn’t want me to see.

I don’t say a word. I just sit down next to him and put my hand on his. We stay like that, only the sound of the crickets cutting through the silence. Then he says, “She was here for a whole week, and she didn’t even try to see me.”

I knew he was talking about his mom. A mom who didn’t even want to know him. My fourteen-year-old brain couldn’t even imagine it, not only because I had a mom who loved me so much it sometimes felt smothering, but also because—how could anyone not want to know this boy?

Noble shifts in his seat. “You all did a lot for me over the years, and I know I let you down—” His gaze drops, and he taps his leg with his fist. “I’m just really grateful for everything you taught me.” He goes still. “I hate to think who I’d be if it weren’t for all of you.”

For a second, I see him as the kid he was. But in the next moment, my thoughts betray me, slamming me with the memory of sitting in the woods by myself, waiting for him on the night he left.

And what softened moments before immediately hardens right back up.

Noble’s gotten real good at reeling people in, but I’m not going to let him do that to me.

“I’ve been all over the country,” he says. “Heck, I’ve been all over the world, but there’s nowhere else that feels like home. And that’s because of all of you.”

Funny then, how easy it was for him to leave.

I hate being this cynical, but somehow, I know I have to be.

“You should move back,” Rowena says. “You could live here till you find a place.”

If I’d been taking a drink, I would’ve choked on it. I grit my teeth together, hard, because I almost blurt out that that’s a terrible idea.

“True. There really is no place like it,” Boone says.

“And you won’t find better people,” Quent says. “Not anywhere.”

Noble goes still beside me. “Not sure those ‘better people’ want me back.”

Got that right.

“They’ll come around,” Pop says. “Some are just stuck in their ways. Not a single one of us doesn’t need a bit of grace now and then.”

If I have to hear one more speech about grace I’m going to scream. Yes, Noble is a human and all humans deserve grace, but Noble has proven he’s unreliable and destined to let everyone down.

When people show you who they are, believe ’em.

“Well, I appreciate that, sir,” Noble says, “but I’m pretty sure I’ve used up more than my fair share.”

At least he knows it.

“Oh, Noble,” Momma says. “Grace isn’t a thing that runs out. And it’s not something you have to earn. That’s the whole point.” She smiles at him. “Long as we learn from those mistakes, we’re on the right track. You always have a place here.”

My skin feels too tight, and I want to crawl right out of it because my grace for Noble did run out. A long time ago. “Well,” I say, pushing back from the table. I’m too judgy to sit here and not say something I’ll regret. “I gotta go.”

It’s abrupt, and it spoils a perfectly nice, warm and fuzzy moment, but I can’t help it. Why is it so easy for my entire family to ignore a decade of partying and women and Noble doing whatever made him happy no matter who got hurt?

“Yep, right.” Noble pushes back from the table.

“Boone, West,” Momma says. “You’re on dish duty. Hattie, take Noble down to the lodge and get him situated.”

I start to go, but as I pass her she grabs my arm. “And you, young lady.”