Page 187 of Falling for the Grumpiest Protector

"Right."

I hand it to him. He takes it and disappears beneath the panel again. That's it. No pause. No look. No understanding that one word just crossed twelve years and landed somewhere in the middle of my chest.

I turn toward the water line. Jack is twenty feet away, carrying fence posts with Nate. He looks at me, then at Diego. A small smile appears. I shake my head once. Jack goes back to work. Smart man.

Ten minutes later, water shoots out of a connection Diego assured me was secure and hits him directly in the chest. He comes out sputtering.

I laugh.

He stares at me. "You could've warned me."

"You're the engineer."

"Mechanical engineering student."

"Convenient distinction."

He wipes water from his face. "I'm reconsidering this whole father-son thing."

The words hit differently now. He grins. I throw him a towel. "Fix the leak."

"Yes, sir."

He ducks beneath the panel again. I'm still smiling when I turn away.

Diego has been coming to Oakridge every couple of weeks. Sometimes for a day. Sometimes for the weekend. The first time he stayed at the cottage, I changed the sheets twice. They were clean both times. Now his backpack gets dropped beside the couch and his coffee cup ends up next to mine in the sink. Atlas has decided Diego belongs to him. I'm getting used to having my son here. I don't think I'll ever get used to how good that feels.

We finish with the irrigation line a little after noon. Diego washes his hands at the utility sink while I put the tools away.

"You hungry?"

"Always."

"Betty's?"

"Absolutely."

"Go change. You smell like a swamp."

He looks down at his wet shirt. "You were standing right there when this happened."

"And yet I'm dry."

He gives me a look and starts toward the cottage.

"Dad."

I turn. This time, he knows he said it.

"Yeah?"

He stops. For a second, I think he's forgotten whatever he was going to say. Then he looks toward the ground.

"I read the letters."

The wrench in my hand suddenly feels too heavy. I set it on the workbench. "All of them?"

"Yeah." He rubs his palms against his jeans. "I didn't read them right away."