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We both laugh.

“Rowe was the good witch⁠—”

“Glinda,” I say. “And Finn was the only other one who’d dress up, remember? He wanted to be a flying monkey.”

“All the snacks were green,” he says, remembering.

“And yellow!” I hold up a finger.

We stand there for a beat, smiling at each other. It’s nice that we have history. Maybe I stopped letting myself remember the good parts of it because it hurt too much, but they’re still there.

The air between us shifts, the levity there and gone in a flash. I feel like I should say something that matters, something real, but the words are stuck in my throat. Because everything I’m thinking, all the old feelings that have resurfaced, still feel scary and new.

I’ve spent so long trying to hate him I’m not sure what it looks like to let that go. My gaze falls to the ground, and I inhale, then exhale slow, deep breaths.

A floodgate of memories pours in, and I feel it all.

Noble, sticking up for me with Elise that first day at school. Showing up at family dinner. Hiding on the dock, full of pain he couldn’t process and tears he couldn’t cry. Noble dancing with me at homecoming, looking out for me, smiling at me, paying attention to me.

As I stand there, newer memories tiptoe toward the front of my mind.

Noble helping with the loose cows, ticking items off my to-do list, showing so much genuine interest in my dream, paying attention to how I take my coffee.

Noble showing up.

But all those beautiful memories are mixed together with less pleasant, more painful ones.

Sitting alone in the sunken forest. Finding out he left town without a word. Telling my dad I wouldn’t go to the rodeo because I never wanted to see Noble again. Packing up every single thing that reminded me of him and shoving it in a box under my bed.

I feel the knot form in my throat, and I think maybe this is the point.

Maybe sometimes, really good relationships have messy parts too. Maybe the trick is to learn how to navigate them together instead of carelessly tossing all the good out with the bad.

Maybe Rowena was right. Maybe I do hold people to impossibly high standards.

I close my eyes to keep from crying, but a stupid tear slips out. He swipes it away with his thumb, and I want to lean into the touch.

“I missed you too.” I open my eyes. “So much.”

The breath he lets out feels like one he’s been holding for thirteen years, and when he reaches for me, I wrap my arms around him in a tight hug, and he clings to me like he’s afraid if he lets go, I’ll disappear.

I burrow in closer, giving in to the feeling of being in his arms for just a moment, knowing that logic will be back to ruin things soon enough.

I rest my head against his shoulder, let go, and cry. It’s the kind of cry that has years on it. The kind I’ve kept at bay for so long.

He pulls back, studying me. “I’m so sorry, Hattie. I was wrong to go. If I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I’ll do it.”

I nod. I can’t speak without my voice cracking.

I’m not thinking about the time in my life when Noble left. I’m not thinking about when Hunter died. I don’t replay the way it felt to lose my brother and the boy I loved all in the space of a year because the feelings are just too raw.

I’m simply here. Now. In this moment.

And this moment is enough.

“I might just take you up on that,” I finally say. I drop my hands to my sides and take a step back, avoiding his gaze, feeling seen in a way I haven’t in a very long time.

In another world, I’d find the courage to say to Noble what I thought I’d say to him the day he left. That I knew he was hurting. That I wanted to be there for him. That life is short and I was tired of pretending. That I loved him and not only as a friend.