Chapter 15 #3
"It's absolutely perfect for you," he confirmed. "Elephants seem to be your thing."
"I guess they are." I held the cup against my chest. "I never really thought about having a favorite animal before, but elephants are… they're good. They're gentle and smart, and they take care of their families."
"Just like someone else I know," Simon said quietly.
I felt my cheeks heat. "I'm going to use it today. For everything."
"Good." He stretched and climbed out of bed. "Come on. Let's get you some juice or something to put in it."
We went through our morning routine, and I carried my new sippy cup with me everywhere. At breakfast, I filled it with orange juice, delighted by how perfectly it fit in my hands. The spill-proof lid meant I didn't have to worry about making a mess, which was oddly freeing.
"That's a nice cup," Harlan commented as he set a plate of pancakes in front of me.
"My Secret Santa gave it to me," I said proudly. "It has an elephant on it. See?" I held it up to show him.
"Very cute." His eyes flicked to Simon for just a second, and something passed between them that I didn't understand. Then Harlan smiled at me. "Suits you."
After breakfast, Simon had to go check on some fencing that had been damaged by heavy winds last night. I wanted to go with him, but he insisted I should stay inside where it was warm.
"It's going to be boring work, bud. Just me and Jackson hammering posts for a few hours."
"I don't mind boring," I protested.
He cupped my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. "I know you don't. But you've been working hard helping Elton and everyone else. Take today to rest. Use those art supplies some more."
"But—"
"That's not a suggestion." His voice went firm, his Daddy voice, and I felt my resistance crumble. "You're going to stay inside, stay warm, and do something that makes you happy. Understand?"
"Yes, Daddy," I whispered, hyperaware that we were still in the kitchen where anyone could hear.
But no one batted an eye. This was the Coleman Ranch. Everyone here understood dynamics like ours.
Simon pressed a kiss to my forehead. "Good boy. I'll be back in a few hours."
After he left, I wandered upstairs with my sippy cup—now filled with water—and my art supplies. I settled onto the bed and opened one of the new coloring books, choosing a page with an intricate mandala design.
I lost myself in the meditative process of coloring, carefully selecting shades and blending colors together. My sippy cup sat beside me, and I sipped from it absently as I worked.
There was something soothing about this. About being small and safe and allowed to just… play.
I was so focused that I didn't hear the knock on the door until it came a second time.
"Come in," I called, setting down my colored pencil.
Sean poked his head in, his face lighting up when he saw what I was doing. "Oh my gosh, can I join you?"
"Really?" I felt a flutter of excitement. I'd been enjoying the solitude, but the idea of coloring with a friend sounded even better.
"Really." He disappeared for a moment, then came back with his own coloring supplies—a well-used set of markers and several books that looked like they'd seen plenty of love. "Daddy is out with Simon and Jackson, and I was going to color anyway. Figured we could have a playdate."
A playdate. The word made me feel warm and accepted.
We settled on the bed together, each with our own books. Sean put on some soft music from his phone, and we colored in comfortable silence for a while.
"Your Secret Santa is spoiling you," Sean commented after a bit, nodding toward my art supplies.
"They really are." I paused in my coloring. "Do you know who it is?"
"I might," he said mysteriously. "But I can't tell. That's the whole point of Secret Santa."
"I know, but…" I chewed my lip. "I just want to thank them. These gifts… they're so thoughtful. So perfectly me. It's like they can see inside my head."
Sean smiled softly. "Maybe they just pay really good attention."
We went back to coloring. I finished my mandala and held it up to admire it. The colors blended together beautifully, creating something that was both intricate and soothing to look at.
"That's gorgeous," Sean said. "You're really good at this."
"Thanks." I felt a flush of pride. "I'm having fun."
"That's what matters." He reached for his sippy cup—he had one too, I noticed, covered in rainbow stripes—and took a sip. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Are you happy here? Like, really happy?"
I didn't even have to think about it. "Yeah. I really am. Happier than I've been in… I don't know. Years, maybe."
"Good." Sean bumped his shoulder against mine. "You deserve to be happy, Tanner. You spend so much time taking care of everyone else. It's nice to see you being taken care of for a change."
"Simon's really good at it," I admitted quietly.
"He is. And you're really good at letting him, which isn't always easy." Sean started coloring again. "When I first got with Atticus, I had such a hard time accepting care. I kept thinking I had to earn it somehow, or that I was being a burden."
"What changed?"
"Atticus sat me down and explained that letting him take care of me wasn't a burden; it was a gift. That my submission, my trust, was something precious. Once I understood that, everything got easier."
I thought about that as I started a new page in my coloring book. Simon had said something similar, about how letting him care for me was me taking care of him in return.
Maybe they were right. Maybe accepting love and care wasn't selfish. Maybe it was necessary.
We colored for another hour before Sean's phone buzzed with a text. He checked it and smiled.
"Daddy says they're heading back. Apparently Simon's been asking about you every five minutes." Sean waggled his eyebrows. "Someone's smitten."
"Stop," I said, but I was smiling.
"It's cute! You're both cute!" Sean started gathering his supplies. "Come on, let's go downstairs. I'm hungry, and I heard something about grilled cheese for lunch."
We made our way down to the kitchen, where Harlan was indeed making grilled cheese sandwiches. I grabbed my sippy cup—I'd refilled it with lemonade—and settled at the counter.
"You two have a good morning?" Harlan asked as he flipped a sandwich in the pan.
"We had a playdate," Sean announced proudly. "Colored together."
"Sounds nice." Harlan glanced at me. "You eat breakfast?"
"Yeah, the pancakes. Remember?"
"That was hours ago." He pulled a sandwich off the griddle and plated it, sliding it across the counter to me. "Eat this. You need lunch."
I wanted to protest that I could wait for Simon, but my stomach growled traitorously. Besides, Harlan had that look that said he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
I ate the sandwich—perfectly golden and gooey with cheese—and sipped my lemonade. Sean sat beside me with his own sandwich, chattering about plans for Christmas.
"We're doing a big dinner on Christmas Eve," he explained. "Everyone on the ranch, all together. And then Christmas morning is for opening presents and being lazy."
"That sounds nice," I said. It really did. My Christmases for the past few years had been spent alone with takeout and a movie.
"You'll be here, right?" Sean looked at me with wide eyes. "Please say you'll be here."
"I…" I glanced at Harlan, who was watching me with a knowing expression. "I don't want to impose—"
"You're not imposing," Harlan cut in. "You're family. Family stays for Christmas."
Family.
The word settled warmly in my chest.
"Then yeah," I said softly. "I'll be here."
Sean cheered and pulled me into a sideways hug. "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!"
The back door opened and Simon, Jackson, and Atticus filed in, all of them looking windblown and cold. Simon's eyes found mine immediately, and his whole face softened.
"Hey, bud," he said, coming over to me. His hand settled on the back of my neck, cold from outside but comforting nonetheless. "You have a good morning?"
"Really good." I held up my sippy cup. "Look what I’ve been using."
He took it from me, examining the elephant design with a smile. "Glad to see you’re staying hydrated."
I took it back and clutched it to my chest. "My Secret Santa really gets me. I might be too hydrated, Daddy."
"They really do get you," Simon agreed, and something in his tone made me look at him more closely.
But before I could analyze it, Atticus was pulling Sean into a hug, and Jackson was complaining about being hungry, and the moment passed.
We spent the afternoon as a group, everyone gathering in the living room again.
Some people worked on various projects—Cory was knitting something, Ashley was reading, and Griffin was doing a crossword puzzle.
I pulled out my coloring books and worked on another page, this time with Simon beside me on the couch.
He didn't color—just read his book—but his presence was soothing. Every so often, his hand would rest on my knee, or his thumb would brush against my thigh.
"You're really skilled at this," he murmured at one point, looking at my half-finished page.
"It's just coloring," I said, but I felt warm at the praise.
"It's more than that. You have an eye for color, for how things fit together." He leaned closer. "I'm proud of you for using the supplies. For letting yourself do something just because it makes you happy."
There was that phrase again. Just because it makes you happy.
Like that was reason enough. Like I didn't need to justify or explain or apologize for wanting things.
"Thank you, Daddy," I whispered, quiet enough that only he could hear.
His hand tightened on my knee briefly, and when I glanced at him, his eyes were dark with emotion.
"Anytime, bud," he murmured back. "Anytime."
That evening, as we got ready for bed, I carefully arranged my sippy cup on the nightstand next to the reading lamp. Tomorrow I'd use it again. And the day after that. It was mine, a gift chosen specifically for me, and I was going to treasure it.
Simon came out of the bathroom in his sleep pants, and I was already in my elephant pajamas. He smiled when he saw me.
"You want another story tonight?" he asked.
I nodded eagerly. "Yes, please."
He grabbed one of the children's books from the shelf and climbed into bed. I curled up against him, my head on his chest, and listened as he read to me in his deep, soothing voice.
The story was about a little elephant who was afraid of thunderstorms. By the end, the elephant learned that it was okay to be scared, and that asking for help didn't make you weak.
"I like that story," I murmured when Simon finished.
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because the elephant learns that it's okay to need someone." I traced my finger over the elephant on my sippy cup. "That letting someone take care of you is brave, not weak."
Simon was quiet for a moment, then he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "You're very brave, bud. Braver than you know."