“Of course not. That would damage your whole daredevil image.”

“Exactly.” Lukas smiles, but the nervousness around his smile has my curiosity elevated by several folds. What could it be that’s making him nervous?

“Ready?” he asks, and I don’t know if he’s asking me or himself.

When I nod, he removes the lid in a rush, as if not wanting to drag out the moment.

For a second, I don’t understand his nervousness and the secrecy. There are envelopes on the top or gift wrapping papers. But soon, Lukas pokes inside, and one after the other, I start remembering where I’ve seen everything.

Finally, he grabs a glass bottle with white reindeer.

My voice is breathless with surprise. “W-what?”

“These are all the letters, gifts, and postcards you sent me all these years.” He picks up some papers that were taken from my cute floral or holiday-themed letterheads.

There was even a birthday card from a few months back. I’d sent it to the post office box number Lukas gave me years ago.

“How?” I whisper in amazement.

“I’ve redirected all the mail to St. Peppers.”

My mind struggles with conflicting thoughts.

He was here, all this time.

In every care package to him, I included small bottles of sanitizers, tiny bars of sandalwood soaps (because he once mentioned his mom loved the smell of sandalwood) and bite-sized wafer sandwiches filled with hazelnut and Nutella. I even had to place a special order for them, because it wasn’t something easily available in Cherrywood.

But now I realize I didn’t have to do any such thing. He could have bought everything himself.

While I’m lost in thought, Lukas pulls open the storage drawers underneath his bed, and there they are. Everything I’ve ever sent him.

Rows and rows of sanitizer bottles with green lids. Purple bottles of hand lotions. Small cubes of yellow sandalwood soap. Even wrappers of his favorite hazelnut chocolate wafer.

My breath hitches at the sight of it all.

“Don’t laugh, okay?” Lukas falls back onto the bed, hiding his face under his arm.

“Why are you showing this to me, Lukas?”

As much as I’m surprised to see his collection, which I dare say looks like an homage to…me and my care for him, I’m more surprised that he shared it with me.

Lukas pulls his arm away. He looks at me for a few seconds, and the emotions blazing in his eyes remind me of yesterday.

“Since we returned from the ride”—he visibly gulps—“you haven’t smiled.”

I’m about to tell him that it’s not since we’ve returned but since he backpedaled after what seemed like a big moment, but I get no chance as he continues.