Page 142 of Peaks and Promises

He clicked another brick into place. “Yep.”

I nodded in approval. “Awesome.”

“There’s just one problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I left my knights at Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”

Grandma and Grandpa. I’d noticed that he’d been referring to them as his grandparents. At first it was cute. But it had started to poke at something inside me. Guilt, maybe.

I glanced at the time. Summer wasn’t off work for another couple hours. “Should we go get them?”

“Can we?”

“Sure, why not? A castle needs to be defended.”

He smiled and got to his feet. “I’ll find my shoes.”

I waited while he thundered down the hall to his bedroom. A moment later, I heard a muffled ouch. He’d probably stubbed his toe. It was going to take some time before he grew into that body of his.

Not for the first time, he reminded me of me. Which didn’t do anything to ease the ache in my chest.

When he was ready, I grabbed my keys, and we left. Out of habit, I checked the rearview as I drove. As expected, there was no sign that we were being followed.

Nate hopped out of my SUV as soon as I’d parked and darted to the front door. He knocked, then walked right in, leaving the door open behind him. Cracking a smile, I followed him inside.

I found Mom and Dad in the living room, standing in front of the couch. Mom’s cheeks were pink, and she was fidgeting with her glasses, like she was flustered. Dad raised his eyebrows at me. I was about to ask why they were standing there—it was kind of awkward—when it hit me. Had they been making out on the couch when Nate had torn through the house?

“Found them!” Nate called from the bedroom.

“Sorry for barging in,” I said. “He forgot something.”

“You’re fine,” Mom said with a wave of her hand.

Dad just grunted.

Nate emerged, holding the bottom of his T-shirt up to create a pouch for his knights.

“Let me get you a bag so you don’t drop those,” Mom said, heading for the kitchen.

He dumped the toys onto the coffee table. “Thanks, Grandma. Can I have a root beer?”

“Why not,” Dad answered. “I think we might have one or two left out there.”

Dad led Nate through the kitchen and out the back door to the shop.

Mom lowered herself onto the edge of the couch and started putting Nate’s toys in a small paper bag.

“Thanks,” I said.

She smiled and set the bag down, then glanced toward the back door. “Your dad misses him already.”

“He looked annoyed.”

“No. That’s just his face.”

That made me chuckle. “Fair enough. And they’re not going anywhere.”