Page 35 of When We Were More (Aron Falls #1)

“Hey, look at me for a second, Layla.” When she does, I push a strand of tear-soaked hair behind her ears.

“First, of course, I’m still going to be your friend.

You don’t have to worry about that. You’re a great friend, and now you’re stuck with me.

” I smile, trying to ease her fear. Her breathing starts to slow a little.

“Plus, it was a mistake. You didn’t do it on purpose.

Accidents and mistakes happen.” An idea occurs to me.

“Can I show you something in the other room?” Her tears are slowing, and she nods.

I stand, take her hand, and lead her to the living room. When we get there, I pull out one of the end tables, revealing the big gouge in my living room floor. Then, I tell her the story of how I made that gouge when I was a little girl and how Gram made me feel better.

“Do you know why it’s still here even after all this time has passed?”

She shakes her head.

“My grandmother could have had it fixed, but she kept it here so she would think of me and my summers here whenever she saw it, and it would make her happy. Now let’s go back to the kitchen.”

Henry watches our whole interaction off to the side, and I lead Layla back to the table. When we’re by the dent, I run my hand over it.

“I bet your dad could fix this right up for me.”

Layla turns to look at Henry. “Will you, Daddy? Will you fix it?” Her tears have stopped, thankfully.

“Sure, ladybug. I can fix it. No problem.”

“Well, let’s wait a minute.” I kneel to Layla’s level again. “I think I’d like to keep it there. Then every time I see it, I’ll remember our special dinner, my pretty yellow flowers, and getting to spend time with you and Lena. I like you two very much. What do you think?”

“And Daddy?”

I tilt my head, not understanding her. She catches on quickly.

“You like me and Lena, and Daddy, right?”

I chuckle and glance up at Henry, who’s looking at me, eyes slightly narrowed, awaiting my response. I turn back to Layla.

“Yes, and Daddy.”

Layla takes her little hand and rubs it over the gouge herself.

“Yes, I think we should keep it. I’ll be more careful, but I want to keep it.

Then we’ll remember.” She nods her agreement but then hesitates and looks up at me with uncertainty in her eyes.

“You promise you won’t go away because of it?

I’ll be good from now on.” Her words are practically a whisper.

“I promise I’m not going away.” My heart aches for this child.

There’s no doubt in my mind that this worry is residual from her mom leaving.

“You don’t have to do or be anything different than you already are.

You’re a good girl, Layla. Mistakes don’t mean you’re not good.

I’m going to be here. We’re friends, after all. ”

She nods and hugs me. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced.

When she pulls back, I stand, my calves cramping. “Now, let’s go open presents.”

I glance up at Henry, and I can’t read the expression on his face. It’s not one I’m familiar with.

Minutes later, we’re sitting around my small Christmas tree, and Layla has opened her presents from me—an art set and a game, she’s helped open Lena’s, and she’s already dove into the art set. I’m wearing the macaroni necklace she made for me at school.

Henry leaves the room for a moment and comes back with two packages that he sets on the couch between us. I narrow my eyes and purse my lips at him.

“I thought we said no presents,” I remind him.

“Yeah, I didn’t listen to that nonsense. But I promise, it’s nothing big.”

I bend down and reach under the couch to retrieve his gifts.

“Really?” He laughs, and his smile is enough to melt me.

He opens the book I got for him first. It’s a copy of the History of Aron Falls from two generations ago.

There are hardly any in print, but I wanted him to have one.

Especially because there is a photo in the book of a man standing next to a cabin—which I’m pretty sure is Henry’s cabin when it was first built—and the caption reads: Thomas Aron .

“Matilda, this is amazing. Thank you.” Henry starts to thumb through the book.

I clear my throat. “Um, you have a second one.”

He carefully places the book on the table and opens the second package. He stares at it when he takes it out of the box. He runs his hand over the smooth wood and metal parts. When he lifts his eyes, he pierces me with an intense gaze.

“Did someone tell you I collected vintage woodworking hand planes?”

I shake my head.

“I saw them when I was at your cabin. You’ve got them displayed across different parts of the house. I wasn’t sure what it was, so I snuck a picture and showed Lester.” I shrug like it’s no big deal.

“How did you even find this? It’s beautiful.” He’s back to looking at the wood plane and inspecting it. “I love it.”

“Um, at an antique mall. Before you ask, yes, I’m still scouring estate sales, antique shops, even flea markets, hoping I’ll find more of the copper hardware for the kitchen.”

Henry sets the plane to the side and turns to face me.

“I truly love them both, Matilda. I didn’t need anything except our friendship, but this is incredibly thoughtful. It has more meaning than you could understand.”

“What do you mean?”

“The plane collection was my dad’s. I inherited it and have added to it over the years since he’s been gone. I hope to pass it down to my kids someday, if one of them follows in my footsteps.”

I smile, thrilled that I was able to give him a special gift.

Henry clears his throat. “This one first.” He hands me a square box. I shake it. “Hey, no cheating.”

“It’s not cheating. It’s guessing. ” He steals my signature move and rolls his eyes at me, and it makes me laugh. That gets Layla’s attention, and she ambles over and sits at my side, opposite Henry.

I tear open the paper. When I open the box, I’m staring at a gray sweatshirt that reads “The Ohio State University.” I hold it up and check it out—no armpit hole, so that’s good. When I glance over at Henry again, the heat in his eyes is unmistakable.

“Now you can get rid of that one from him. This one even has a small hole there—” he points out a hole the size of a nail head near the bottom “—since you’re fond of the other one with the huge hole.”

This is the kind of stuff men do in the romance novels I read when they claim?—

“If you’re going to wear a man’s clothes, they’re going to be mine.

” Henry’s voice is low, and he speaks close to my ear.

I should get pissed at the possessive words, but I’m not.

My body likes them, and my heart likes them, too.

I’ll have to unpack those thoughts later.

Or I can shove that down into my subconscious like I’ve done with a few other things lately.

Layla breaks the moment when she taps my forearm. “I told Daddy he should get you a new one. Not give you used up clothes.” She shakes her head and closes her eyes. “Men.”

“It’s okay, Layla. I love it.”

Layla claps her hands together. “Okay. Let’s do the other one.”

Henry reaches for the second package, and I notice the care he takes with moving it. I’m just as careful when he hands it to me, and I set it on my lap. When I open it, I’m stunned, unable to take my eyes off the image in front of me.

The vintage black and white framed photo is of my farmhouse, likely back right around when my great-grandpa built it. I take my finger and touch the center of the glass where a man and woman stand posing, with a child between them. My eyes are moist when I turn to Henry.

“Is that my grandmother?”

“It is.” His voice is soft, hushed, and his eyes bore into mine. We stare at each other. What does it mean that we both put such thought into our gifts?

“Daddy told the man at the shop that if there was a picture of your house anywhere in the world, he wanted the man to find it. Good job, Dad.” Layla pats him on the back, and Henry and I both chuckle.

“Then, when the man said it would be hard, Daddy told him it doesn’t matter what it cost, he better find it.

” Henry’s cheeks are dark pink now. I suspect he didn’t want me to learn that part.

“Well, thank you for helping him. I love all my presents.” Layla reaches in to hug me, and I wrap her in an embrace.

“I’m gonna go play now. Don’t forget Daddy’s hug, Tillie.” With that, she’s back on the floor playing with her new presents near where Lena plays with the new stacking toy I bought her.

“Well, should we listen to her?” Henry looks at me with one eyebrow raised, and somehow it makes him even sexier. Damnit.

I swallow past the lump in my throat. I want to hug him, which is exactly why it’s not a good idea.

“I think we’d better not. We should probably reserve physical touch for when we take advantage of the benefits portion of our friendship. To keep boundaries clear, I mean.”

A frown flits across his face but is gone as quickly as it came.

“Yeah, of course. Makes sense.”

Rescue from the awkward moment comes when Lena cries. It’s one of those tired, crabby cries. Henry sighs.

“I should probably get them home and in bed.” Henry rises and goes to Lena without saying anything else.

While he gets the kids ready, I go and package up the leftover chicken nuggets and dessert for them to take with them.

I finish by the time Henry is in the foyer with the girls bundled.

I hug the girls goodbye, and when Henry takes them to the car, I carry the leftovers out.

When he comes back in for their gifts, we stand in the doorway, where we can still see the car.

“Thank you again for my gifts. I love them,” I say.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for mine—and for a great evening. It was nice to have another adult to talk to who isn’t my babysitter, my mom, or one of my brothers.”

That earns a laugh and breaks through some of the awkwardness of the last few minutes. We say our goodbyes, and I watch as Henry walks to the car. When he’s almost there, he turns and looks at me.

“Matilda?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to toss the asshole’s sweatshirt.”

I give him my best eye roll, and he continues to the car. I find myself wishing I had indulged in the hug. It would have been harmless, right?