He raised his hands and took a step back. "Easy there, Tanner. I might know things, but I'm no snitch. I'm not going to end up in a ditch because you want to know who asked me to make your soup."
I scowled. "Why would you end up in a ditch?"
He tilted his head. "You're a lawyer, and you don't know the whole phrase? Snitches get stitches and wind up in ditches."
My mouth made an "O" shape as I recalled the phrase that some of my law school peers used to use all the time—mostly because they wanted to find the snitches who would help them close out a case. I wasn't one to entertain the notion. It was a waste of time in my opinion.
But now I could see why Harlan was trying to pull that card.
"I doubt this person would put you in a ditch. It's someone from the ranch, so clearly they care about you, and I guess me by proxy."
He scoffed. "By proxy is not the word I would use. They care a whole hell of a lot."
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but he mimed zipping his lips, and I knew my time was up. Whatever secrets he had, he wasn't willing to share them with me.
That was fine. I could figure it out on my own. Plus, if I knew how the game played out, I would get my answers on Christmas anyway. There would be a big reveal. So either I play detective and get my answers, or I wait the few days until Christmas comes.
I popped the foldable spoon out of the lid and took a bite as I thought it over. The minute the food hit my stomach, I groaned.
Harlan chuckled. "Glad to see that my touch is still there. I'm off now. Don't forget to bring that back with you so I can clean it."
He was gone as quickly as he appeared.
I stood there for a moment, looking into the container and smiling to myself. But in the next second, I felt a wave of emotion crash through me.
I quickly put the lid on the soup and set it down on one of the benches as I ran. I tucked myself into a small crevice to hide. I didn't want anyone else seeing me as I cradled the thermos to my chest and cried.
What was it about this food that made me so sad?
Well, technically I guess I wasn't sad. I was overwhelmed that someone would enjoy me, like me enough to do this—to convince Harlan to cook, to have it brought to me.
That's not to mention the other gifts they'd already given.
I felt as if I was unprepared for whoever this was because it was more than a game. All these little hints they'd given me were more.
The label on the soup scratched against my hand, and I looked down. It was one of those stick-and-peel kind, and it said: *Eat something warm. You deserve it.*
Tears leaked from my eyes again, and I sobbed—partially for the boy in me who longed for a Daddy, but also because nice things always felt so much bigger than they were.
When it's been a long time since anyone has taken care of you or shown you any type of kindness besides the basics, it overwhelms a person. I didn't know how to handle the emotions and so they had to come out.
The sound of running feet hit my ears, and I looked up to see Simon jogging toward me, his facial expression alarmed.
He dropped down to a squat in front of my prone position, and his hands ran over me like he was worried I'd been hurt.
"What's wrong, bud? Tell me. Tell me and I'll fix it," he said urgently.
I shook my head, then eased the thermos of soup forward. "I… I… I can't," I cried out as I pulled it back to my chest and ducked my head, crying even harder.
I hated not being able to form sentences. I wanted to tell him how I felt, how all of this was tearing me apart and putting me back together.
But Simon somehow just knew, because he went from squatting to kneeling and then wrapped his arms around me. His head leaned against mine, and he simply took deep breaths as I poured out my soul over a canister of soup.
It was like he knew I needed the time to free myself of the overwhelm.
By the time I came back up for air, I had made a decision.
I would ask Simon about being a Daddy soon, maybe after this whole Secret Santa thing, because whoever was taking care of me this well might be in the running for the person I want to be my Daddy.
