Page 256 of Josephine and Clay

I step forward, cup her face, and kiss her.

Dinner at the main house is loud.

Which is normal.

McCoys have never been good at quiet.

Wyatt spends ten minutes explaining a worm he found. Hailey falls asleep in Nash's arms halfway through dessert. Brooklyn launches peas off her highchair tray while Faith negotiates peace talks on her behalf. Rusty steals a dinner roll and disappears under the table before Rose can catch him, while Ellie and Lila belt out a pop song.

It's a circus nobody's trying to control, the kind of chaos that used to make me feel restless, as though I was watching somebody else's life unfold.

Tonight, it doesn't.

Tonight, I laugh when Wyatt insists his worm was three feet long, listen to Nash complain about tourists asking whether horses have feelings, and catch myself watching Josie smile at something Tessa says.

I don't feel like a visitor anymore. For years, every time I came back to Buckhorn, it felt temporary. I was passing through on my way to somewhere else.

Now I'm sitting at the same table I've sat at my entire life, surrounded by the same people, and I don't feel like the brother who left.

I just feel like a McCoy.

The feeling stays with me long after dinner ends.

Eventually everyone drifts home.

The house grows quiet.

I find myself sitting out on the back porch watching darkness settle across the ranch.

The pastures stretch endlessly beneath the moonlight. The barns sit silhouetted against the horizon. Somewhere in the distance, cattle move through the night.

I've looked at this view a thousand times.

Tonight it feels different.

The screen door creaks open behind me.

I don't have to turn around to know it's Mom.

She settles into the chair beside me and hands over a mug of coffee.

That alone makes me suspicious.

Nobody gives you coffee at nine o'clock at night unless they're planning to corner you.

For a while we sit in silence. The crickets fill the darkness. The porch swing rocks gently in the breeze.

Then Mom sighs, and I know exactly what's coming. "You can't keep running from this."

The knot in my stomach appears instantly.

I stare out across the ranch. "Mom⁠—"

"No."

The word is firm enough to stop me.

I glance over.