Page 14 of Josephine and Clay

I stay still, staring up at the ceiling, letting it settle over me.

The mattress is familiar. It smells of coffee and bacon, drifting in from down the hall. It takes me a moment to place it, to catch up with where I am.

Home.

The word sits strange in my chest, heavier than it used to.

The McCoy Ranch hasn’t necessarily been home for a very long time. But I guess it always will be in a way.

I drag a hand over my face and push myself upright, the ache in my body dull and manageable, the kind that comes from travel and a couple too many late nights. It’s nothing I haven’t worked through before. Even here…

Although not with so many children around.

Yet despite the chaos, somewhere in the back of my mind, there’s her. Dark hair, sharp eyes, the way she didn’t smile like everyone else. Josie. I don’t usually think about the women I leave behind, but she sticks a little longer than she should.

It was supposed to be nothing. One night, easy, no strings, exactly how I like it. But there’s a flicker of something I can’t quite shake, the way she looked at me like she saw more than I offered.

The noise sharpens as I swing my legs over the side of the bed, forcing my thoughts to the side. Mom cuts through everything else, because she’s orchestrating the whole damn morning. Other voices follow: Rose, Faith, Dallas, Boone, overlapping in a rhythm that feels rehearsed.

I guess this is how things always are.

I push to my feet before I can think too hard about it.

Wyatt nearly takes me out the second I step into the hallway. “Uncle Clay!”

I catch him on instinct, hands landing on his shoulders before he can crash into me full force. “Easy there, buddy.”

“We’re having pancakes,” he announces, because to him it’s the biggest news of the day.

“Sounds good.”

“It is,” he says with complete seriousness, then twists out of my grip and bolts down the hall again. “Come and have some.”

I watch him go, shaking my head, amusement pulling at my mouth before I can stop it. Then I follow the noise into the kitchen, and that’s when it hits me properly.

The place is alive.

Rose stands at the stove, flipping pancakes while keeping half an eye on Ellie and Lila. Wyatt’s climbed onto a chair he shouldn’t be on, already reaching for something within arm’s length.

Faith balances Brooklyn on her hip while pouring coffee, Dallas stepping in to still the mug before it spills. Tessa sits at the table, Hailey tucked close against her chest. Nash hovers beside her, still figuring out how to exist without checking every second that everything’s okay.

Mom moves through it all, directing people without raising her voice. “Ellie, careful. Wyatt, down. Faith, sit, I’ve got it. Boone, plates.”

Boone’s already there, grabbing dishes, setting things out, filling in whatever gaps need filling without being told twice.

Everyone’s moving with purpose; they all know exactly where they belong. I guess I did too, once upon a time. Before I left for the circuit.

Now… I stop just inside the doorway.

There’s no obvious place for me in it.

Before I can decide whether to sit down or retreat backward into the hallway, a streak of red shoots between my legs.

“Rusty!” Mom snaps.

Too late.

The old heeler mix launches himself at the edge of the table with the kind of determination I almost respect, manages to steal half a pancake off Wyatt’s plate, and takes off across the kitchen as if he’s pulled off a bank robbery.