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I had a whole speech prepared, and I never got to give it.

Because Noble never showed.

“Walk ya back?” he asks.

I nod and fall into step beside him. “What’ll my brothers say when I tell them you really have gone soft?”

He reaches down and grabs my hand. “Ah, I don’t even care.”

Chapter Twenty-One

Noble

Iwanted to kiss her.

There was a moment, a critical moment, where I thought it might happen.

Almost leaned in. Then thought better of it. I’ve barely convinced her I’m worth a second chance. I can’t risk that by complicating things.

Having her back as a friend is enough. It has to be.

But I’m laying in bed, knowing she’s on the other side of the wall, and all I can think about is how it felt to have her in my arms, body pressed against me, head on my chest.

Don’t screw this up, man.

It takes me hours to fall asleep.

Still, the next morning, I manage to wake up extra early to make coffee for Hattie before we go down to the lake. She shows up in the kitchen wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of shorts, hair in a messy bun. When she sees me, she smiles, and I think we’re good.

It’s good. We’re still good.

“Morning,” she says.

“Morning.” I hand over her mug, and we spend a few minutes on the patio before heading down to the lake and out in the kayaks. It’s crisp outside, cooler than the day before, but the workout feels good. The peace feels even better. No matter what happens, I want this ritual in my life.

“If I move back here, can we keep doing this?” I ask, knowing she might feel like I’m overstepping.

Hattie’s eyes are fixed on the sun, just barely above the horizon. I expect her to turn it into a joke or say something like, “I’ll be out here either way, so it doesn’t matter to me . . .” but instead, she rests her forearms on her knees and just says, “Yeah, we can.”

The tiniest hint that maybe being back in her life doesn’t come with an expiration date.

We row back to the shore, make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches to take on the hike, then meet her siblings up at the main house. Quent decides to join us—which is nice since it’s rare we’re all together anymore. As we drive off, we wave at Quent’s girls, Jordy and Libby, who stay back with Melinda to prepare for the family barbecue later that night.

We take our time on the hike, and I listen to the pointed banter between the siblings, interjecting here and there, but mostly just taking it all in.

I haven’t laughed this much in years. I miss it. I miss them.

They’re all older, sure, but there’s something so familiar about each of them and about the way they interact. The dynamic between West and Boone is competitive but friendly. Quent has zero tolerance for any of their shenanigans, seeming to only have one goal: get to the lake. Makes me think he and Hattie are cut from the same cloth. Hudson and Hattie still tease each other the way they used to, and Rowe is the bubbly, fun, touchy/feely youngest sister who is just a smidge annoying to the rest of them.

She seems to lean in to that role.

We’re about a mile from the lake when Quent suddenly stops moving and holds up a fist. We all stop talking immediately, on high alert. West pulls his bear spray out of his bag while Hattie moves toward the front of the line. When she peeks around Quent, her face brightens in a wide smile.

She grabs my arm and pulls me off the trail a few steps, just enough so I can see a massive mama moose and her calf crossing right over the path where we’re walking.

Oblivious to us. This is their territory, and we’re guests here.

We all stay frozen, peering down toward a large pond where we see a huge adult male with giant antlers, standing in the water.