Chapter 10
CHAPTER
TEN
Simon
The weight of Tanner in my arms felt like coming home.
I’d found him tucked away in that corner of the stable, clutching a thermos like it was a lifeline, and something in my chest had cracked wide open. The sound of his sobs had drawn me like a magnet, pulling me away from the fence I’d been mending without a second thought.
Now, kneeling in the hay with him trembling against me, I understood what Wren had been trying to tell me all those months before he passed.
“Love doesn’t end. It just makes room for more.”
Tanner’s breathing eventually steadied against my chest, his fingers still wrapped around that thermos. I didn’t ask him to explain. Didn’t push for details about what had broken him open. Sometimes words weren’t what a person needed.
Sometimes they just needed to be held.
“I’m sorry,” he finally whispered, voice hoarse and small.
I pulled back enough to see his face, keeping my arms firmly around him. His eyes were red-rimmed and swollen, tracks of tears cutting through the dust on his cheeks.
He’d never looked more beautiful.
“None of that,” I said gently. “You don’t apologize for having feelings, bud.”
He bit his lip, and I watched him war with himself—that part of him that wanted to be strong, that lawyer persona he wore like armor, battling against the softer parts he kept hidden away.
“It’s just soup,” he said, but his voice broke on the last word.
“It’s not just soup.” I brushed my thumb across his cheek, catching a stray tear. “Someone made sure you had something warm when you needed it. Someone paid attention to what you like. That matters.”
His breath hitched. “Why does it feel so big?”
“Because you’re not used to being taken care of,” I said simply. “And because you deserve it more than you know.”
The way he looked at me then—damn, it did something to my insides. Like he was seeing me for the first time, really seeing me, and deciding whether he could trust what he found there.
I wanted to tell him everything. Wanted to confess that I’d been the one leaving him gifts, that every thoughtful detail had been me trying to show him what it could be like to have someone care for him completely. But the words stuck in my throat.
Not yet.
Not when he was this vulnerable, this raw.
“Come on,” I said instead, getting to my feet and offering him my hand. “Let’s get you somewhere warm where you can actually eat that soup.”
He took my hand without hesitation, letting me pull him up. He swayed slightly when he stood, and I steadied him with a hand on his waist.
“When’s the last time you ate?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“Breakfast,” he admitted quietly.
I shook my head, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. Not frustration with him—with myself for not paying closer attention. “That’s not acceptable, bud. Your body needs fuel.”
“I know, I just—there was so much to do, and I lost track of time.”
“Which is exactly why you need someone to help keep track for you.”
The words came out more pointed than I intended, and I watched his eyes widen slightly. His keen lawyer’s mind was putting pieces together, reading between the lines of what I was saying.
I cleared my throat and changed tactics. “Let’s get you inside. The storm’s supposed to hit soon, and I don’t want either of us caught out in it.”
He nodded, clutching the thermos to his chest like a treasure as we made our way out of the stables. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the sharp bite of incoming snow. The sky had darkened to that particular shade of gray that promised a heavy storm.
We hurried across the grounds toward the main house. I kept one hand on the small of Tanner’s back, guiding him, making sure he didn’t slip on the icy patches forming on the path. He leaned into my touch without seeming to realize he was doing it.
My boy was a natural submissive. He just didn’t know it yet.
Or maybe he did, and he was too scared to admit it.
When we reached the porch, I held the door open for him, then followed him inside. The warmth of the house wrapped around us immediately, and I watched Tanner’s shoulders relax as he stepped into the familiar space.
The living room was empty—most of the guys were still out finishing the day’s work before the storm hit. Harlan was in the kitchen, humming to himself as he prepped dinner.
“Go sit,” I told Tanner, nodding toward the couch. “I’ll grab you some crackers to go with that soup.”
He opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, then seemed to think better of it. “Okay,” he said softly, and shuffled toward the couch.
I watched him settle in, pulling the throw blanket over his lap with one hand while keeping the thermos secure with the other. He looked exhausted—not just physically, but emotionally wrung out.
In the kitchen, Harlan gave me a knowing look as I grabbed a sleeve of crackers from the pantry.
“He okay?” Harlan asked quietly.
“He will be,” I said. “Thanks for bringing him the soup.”
“That wasn’t for me to take credit for.” Harlan’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Though I’m glad my cooking had the desired effect.”
I shot him a look that said not now, and he just grinned wider.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” he said. “But Simon? Don’t wait too long. That boy needs what you’re offering.”
“I know,” I admitted. “I’m just trying to do this right.”
“Sometimes doing it right means taking the leap.”
I carried the crackers back to the living room, mulling over Harlan’s words. Tanner had managed to get the lid off the thermos and was holding a spoonful of soup halfway to his mouth, staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe.
“Here,” I said, sitting down beside him and opening the crackers. I placed a few on the lid of the thermos, creating a makeshift plate. “Eat up, bud.”
He took a bite of the soup and closed his eyes, a small sound of contentment escaping him. “It’s perfect,” he murmured.
I wanted to say you’re perfect, but I settled for, “Good. Make sure you finish it all.”
We sat in comfortable silence as he ate. I found myself watching him—the way his lips curved around the spoon, the way his throat worked as he swallowed, the gradual return of color to his cheeks.
This was what I wanted. Not just the quiet moments, but the privilege of taking care of him. Of making sure he was fed and warm and safe. Of being the person he turned to when everything got to be too much.
“Simon?” Tanner’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Yeah, bud?”
He set the thermos down carefully on the coffee table, then turned to face me fully. His hands twisted together in his lap—nervous energy he couldn’t quite contain.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” I said, meaning it completely.
He took a breath, then another, clearly working up the courage. “Yesterday, when we were talking… you said communication was key. That we both wanted something, and we needed to talk about it.”
“I remember.”
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that. About what I want.” He paused, biting his lip. “About what I need.”
My heart rate kicked up. This was it—the moment when he either trusted me enough to be vulnerable or pulled away completely.
“I’m listening,” I said gently, keeping my voice calm even though everything in me wanted to pull him close and promise him the world.
“I know I’m a mess right now,” he said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “And I know I came here because I was burned out and lost, and maybe it’s not fair to ask for anything when I’m like this. But being here, being around everyone, being with you—”
He stopped, his breath catching.
“It’s made me realize what’s been missing. What I’ve needed all along but kept telling myself I didn’t have time for.” His eyes met mine, vulnerable and hopeful. “I need someone to take care of me. Not just in the little ways, but… all the ways.”
The last three words came out barely above a whisper.
“Go on,” I encouraged, even though I knew exactly where this was heading. I needed to hear him say it. Needed him to claim what he wanted out loud.
“I’m a little,” he said, and I watched relief flood his features at finally saying it. “I’ve known for years, but I never… I never found anyone who understood. Who wanted that responsibility. And I started thinking maybe I didn’t deserve it, or maybe it was too much to ask, or—”
“Tanner.” I reached out and took his hand, stopping the spiral of self-doubt before it could gain momentum. “It’s not too much. It’s never too much.”
He looked at our joined hands, then back up at me. “But how do you know? You barely even know me.”
“I know enough,” I said. “I know you work yourself to exhaustion because you care so deeply about helping people. I know you forget to eat when you’re stressed.
I know you light up when someone does something kind for you because you’re not used to receiving care.
I know your favorite soup is minestrone.
and you take your coffee so sweet it’s barely coffee anymore. ”
His mouth fell open slightly. “How do you—”
“I notice things about you, bud. Have been noticing for a long time now.” I squeezed his hand. “And I know what you need because I’ve been wanting to give it to you since the moment you showed up here looking lost.”
“What do you mean?” But there was hope in his voice, cautious and fragile.
I took a breath, committing to the leap Harlan had talked about. “I mean I’m a Daddy, Tanner. Have been for years. And every instinct I have has been screaming at me to take care of you from the second I saw you standing by your car that first night.”
The silence that followed felt like an eternity. I watched emotions play across his face.
Surprise.
Hope.
Fear.
Longing.
His hand tightened around mine. “You’re a Daddy,” he repeated, like he needed to hear the words again to believe them.
“I am.”
“And you… you want to take care of me?”