Page 117 of Josephine and Clay

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

“Changed your mind?”

I smirk. “Got bullied.”

“By whom?”

“My entire bloodline.”

Her mouth curves more fully this time. “That sounds efficient.”

“McCoys don’t do much halfway.”

“No. I’ve noticed.” Something in the way she says it makes my chest pull tight. I glance past her, toward my family scattered through the barn. “They’re a lot.”

“They are.”

“Too much?”

Her gaze follows mine. Her expression changes. Softens, hurts almost. Then she tucks it away so fast I might’ve imagined it.

“No,” she says. “Just unfamiliar.”

I look back at her. “You don’t have a big family?”

She takes another sip of lemonade before answering, and I realize she’s stalling.

That tells me more than the answer probably will.

“Not like this.”

“Like what?”

“Loud. Present. Everywhere.”

I huff. “You make us sound like a rash.”

“A well-meaning rash.”

A real laugh breaks out, rough from disuse, and it feels strange in my chest. Better than it should.

Josie looks pleased for half a second, then tries to hide it.

“You laughing at my family now, Doc?”

“I’m making a medical comparison.”

I act horrified. “You’re diagnosing us?”

“Collectively? Yes.”

“And?”

“Severe boundary issues. Chronic meddling. Likely hereditary.”

I lean closer, grinning despite myself. “Any treatment?”

“Distance.”