Page 79 of Lost Then Found
He grabs the glasses and I don’t miss the way his eyes flick to where my shirt has ridden up just a little.
My cheeks burn. I turn away before he can notice that, despite all the years and all the distance, he still has this stupid effect on me.
Molly wasn’t kidding about fixing my appetite. The spread laid out before us is a feast—roast beef that’s been slow-cooked to perfection, buttery mashed potatoes topped with herbs from her garden, homemade cornbread, green beans with thick-cut bacon, a heaping dish of macaroni and cheese that’s bubbling at the edges. A peach cobbler sits cooling by the window, promising dessert.
Molly waves a hand. “Thank Loretta. She made most of it.”
A chorus of “Thanks, Loretta” rings out.
Loretta flicks a wrist. “Oh, hush now. Dig in before it gets cold.”
The second plates start filling, the conversation picks up. The Wilding house has always been this way—food, laughter, stories layered on top of each other. It’s been so long since I’ve sat at a table like this, I almost forgot what it felt like.
I love my quiet nights with Hudson, our routine of pizza or takeout and movies on the couch, but I’d forgotten how much I loved being part of a big, boisterous family. The way voices overlap, the way someone’s always teasing someone else, the way there’s never a single dull moment.
Sage spears a piece of bacon with her fork and points it across the table. “Okay, but has Hudson heard the story of when Ridge got kicked out of the Fourth of July parade when he was fourteen?”
Hudson’s eyes light up. “You got kicked out of a parade?”
Ridge smirks. “Okay, first of all, I didn’t get kicked out. I gotescortedout. Subtle but important difference.”
Boone laughs. “You got dragged out by SheriffTiller.”
Ridge glares at him. “Details.”
Wren laughs. “Pretty big detail.”
Sage turns to Hudson. “So picture this—the whole town is lined up along Main Street. Kids with sparklers, moms waving those little flags.”
Hudson leans in. “Okay…”
She leans forward, grinning like she’s been waiting to tell this story for years. “So, Ridge here decides the parade is moving too slow.”
Ridge points at her. “Which itwas.”
Sage ignores him. “So instead of, I don’t know, waiting like a normal person, Captain Impulse Control here whips his horse around, exits the parade route, and then—”
Wren jumps in, shaking her head. “—charges back in like a one-man cavalry, head-on into the marching band.”
Hudson’s jaw drops. “No way.”
Boone nods, smirking. “Took out the entire trombone section.”
Molly, sighing, pinches the bridge of her nose. “And nearly trampled poor Jimmy Lyles.”
Ridge, mouth twitching, shrugs. “To be fair, Jimmy should’ve been paying attention.”
Sage points her fork at him. “He was playing an instrument, Ridge.”
Hudson, barely holding it together, asks, “So what happened next?”
Wren grins. “Sheriff Tiller was not amused.”
Boone chuckles. “Dragged him off his horse in front of the entire town and made him sit on the sidewalk outside of the parade like a time-out. He ate sherbet on the curb until Dad could pick him up.”
Hudson, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes, shakes his head. “Dude, you are my hero.”
Ridge, grinning, points at him. “See? Someone gets it.”
