Page 169 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

He sits with that for a moment. Then he looks at me. "Do you still have them?"

"Every one."

Something shifts in his face. "Can I see them?"

My throat tightens. "Yeah."

He nods. I don't tell him they're sitting fifty feet away. Not yet.

We leave Betty's a little after twelve. The morning has warmed while we were inside. Main Street is quiet, sunlight catching on the first leaves beginning to turn. Diego stops beside his car.

"I'm glad I came."

The words hit me harder than I expect. "Me too."

He looks toward the diner. "Yesterday I almost didn't get out of the car."

"You told me."

"Today was easier." I understand exactly what he means.

"Yeah." He looks back at me. "It was."

I glance toward my truck. "Hang on a second."

Diego waits while I cross the parking lot and open the back door. The box is where I left it this morning, in the back seat of my truck. I brought it because some part of me hoped I'd have the chance to give it to him. I left it there because I didn't know if he'd want it. Now I know.

I lift it from the back seat and carry it back. Diego looks at the box, then at me. "These are them?"

"Yeah." I hold it out. He takes it with both hands.

"All twelve years?"

"Yeah."

"Every birthday?"

"Every one."

"Christmas?"

"Those too."

His eyes drop to the box.

"There are some others," I say.

He looks up. "Just because?"

My throat tightens. "Yeah. Just because."

His thumb moves along the edge of the lid. For a moment, neither of us says anything. I don't tell him to read them. I don't ask him to understand. They're his. They always were.

Diego carries the box to his car and sets it carefully on the back seat. When he closes the door, he stays there for a moment. Then he turns back to me.

"I'll come back."

I look at him. "Really? To the farm?"