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He goes quiet.

“Look,” I say. “You were a kid. You acted out. That’s it.”

“Is that why you’ve been mad at me since I got here?” His eyes find mine, but I quickly look away. Because my feelings toward Noble are a lot more complicated than a few stolen tools and stupid pranks.

“I know I hurt a lot of people,” he says. “Including your family. Including you.”

I stare at the flames in front of me. “Yeah, well, just don’t do it again, and we’ll be fine.”

My hot dog catches fire.

He shakes his head. “You’re going to be eating straight up charcoal by the time you’re finished.”

“The more burnt, the better,” I say. “I like it crispy on the outside.”

“When you’re done ruining it, hand it over.” He’s got hot dog buns and ketchup and a big bag of chips, which he pulls open and sets between us.

I sit down next to him, and he hands over a plate, a quiet settling between us.

“Could always count on you to tell it like it is,” he says with a smirk.

I scrunch my nose. “Too much? I’ve tried to keep my temper in check as I’ve gotten older.”

He laughs. “How’s that working out for ya?”

The walkie I wear on my belt crackles to life. “Hattie, it’s Boone. Where you at?”

I look at Noble. As much as I’d love to keep this whole night just the two of us, the logical part of my brain knows it’s a bad idea. My mind has already veered into dangerous territory. Maybe it would be good to have some company.

“Up the hill where Noble parked his trailer,” I say into the walkie.

“Y’all making hot dogs?” That’s West. “I smell hot dogs.”

Noble’s eyes are fixed on the fire. He’s smiling. “He’s gotta be over half a mile away. He’s like a bloodhound.”

“When it comes to food, he is,” I say. Then, into the walkie: “Yes, West. We made hot dogs.”

“We’ll be right there.”

I start putting more hot dogs on sticks while Noble goes to find chairs and crates for them to sit on, and about ten minutes later, I hear the four-wheelers on the trail.

“You might want to . . .” I nod at the bracelet on his wrist, and he tucks it up under his sleeve while I do the same. I’ve got a good sense of humor, but right now, I just don’t feel like being teased.

Not about my friendship with Noble.

West, Boone, and Hudson pull up on their four-wheelers.

The boys all pile off the quads, louder than normal humans should ever be, climbing over each other and fist-bumping Noble. I text Rowe because she’ll be sad if she feels like we’re leaving her out, and she comes down after finishing her Saturday farm stand prep, just in time for S’mores.

The whole night feels a lot like old times, and I wonder if it’ll do anything to push Noble’s decision to put his roots down right where he left them.

As worried as he seems to be about the town accepting him, the people in this house have gone out of their way to make sure everything feels like he never left.

We reminisce about the trouble the boys got into, the punishments our dad was quick to hand out, and then the conversation turns to Noble’s life out on the road.

“You’ve hardly told us anything about what it’s really like,” West says.

Noble’s eyes stay intent on the flames in front of him. “It’s great.” He doesn’t look up.