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“Nolan.” Molly snapped at him, her eyes going wide.

“What? You did.”

Color flooded her cheeks.

“Are you still talking about me after all these years?” I meant it as a joke, but I wasn’t sure I still had the right to joke with Molly. That might have been one of the things I’d given up when I left Mustang Mountain all those years ago.

“I said there were too many Kincaids in Mustang Mountain. I didn’t say which one we could do without.”

That comment hurt. “You probably meant Slade.”

Her mouth twitched, but she didn’t correct me.

I’d been home ten days. Ten days at the Iron Spur, sleeping in my old room and pretending not to notice Dad checking on me every time I walked through a door. I’d wondered whether I’d run into her. Wondering wasn’t the same as being ready.

A truck crossed the gravel lot behind us, and the tailgate slammed hard.

My body reacted before I could stop it. Chest tight. Breath gone. I fixed my eyes on the truck. Gravel lot. Arena fence. Mustang Mountain. I knew where I was.

Still, it took me a couple of seconds to settle. Too long. How long would it be until a truck was just a truck again?

When I looked back at her, Molly was watching me, her brows drawn together in concern.

Before she could ask about it, the arena office door banged open, and Orville Nelson stepped out with a stack of clipboards. He spotted Molly and Nolan, then me, and his whole face lit up.

“Perfect.” He handed Nolan a clipboard and pointed toward the handwritten sign taped to the office window advertising a youth winter clinic. “You here for the youth sessions?”

Nolan nodded.

“I said we’d talk about it,” Molly corrected him.

Orville ignored that comment and turned to me next. “And Slade says you’ve got time to help.”

That was news to me. “When did he say that?”

“The other day,” Orville continued. “He also told me you’re good with kids.”

“Sounds like you asked him first and he threw me under the bus instead.” I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. My brother and I were going to be exchanging words when I got back to the ranch.

Nolan looked up at me. “You saved me from hitting my head.”

“That doesn’t automatically mean I’m good with kids.” That was all I needed: Orville and his pint-sized minion ganging up on me.

“You told me not to climb the fence. And I didn’t.”

I shook my head. “You actually did climb the fence.”

“Not after you said not to.” Nolan held his ground.

Molly laughed. She tried to bite it back, but it was too late, and the sound went straight through me. All those years, and that laugh still knew exactly where to find me.

She crouched in front of her son. “If I let you do this, you have to listen. Every time. And you don’t climb anything unless somebody says you can.”

“I promise.”

“Pinky promise,” Molly said as she held her pinky finger out to her son.

Nolan hooked his small pinky around hers.