He smiled. "Okay. Let me just grab my book."
While he was gone, I organized the supplies, running my fingers over each item as if they were precious. When Simon came back, he settled into the reading chair with a well-worn paperback while I sat cross-legged on the bed with the sketchpad and pencils.
For a long moment, I just stared at the blank page. What should I draw? What if it looked terrible? What if?—
"Stop overthinking," Simon said gently, not looking up from his book. "Just put pencil to paper and see what happens."
So I did.
I started with simple shapes—circles and lines that gradually became more defined. A fence line. A barn. Mountains in the distance. Before I knew it, I'd sketched out a rough version of the ranch, the property that had become my sanctuary.
I added details slowly, losing myself in the process. The way the light hit the main house. The curve of the driveway. The horses in the pasture.
Time slipped away. At some point, Simon got up and turned on the lamp as the afternoon light faded, but he didn't interrupt. Just gave me space to create.
When I finally set the pencil down, my hand was cramping slightly and my neck was stiff from hunching over, but I felt… light. Like I'd released something I didn't know I'd been holding onto.
"Can I see?" Simon asked.
I nodded, suddenly nervous as he came over to look.
He studied the sketch for a long moment, and I held my breath, waiting for his reaction.
"Tanner," he finally said, his voice full of wonder. "This is incredible."
"It's just a sketch," I said, trying to downplay it even as warmth flooded through me at his praise.
"It's more than that." He traced a finger along the fence line, careful not to smudge the pencil marks. "You captured it perfectly. The feeling of this place. The peace of it."
"You really think so?"
"I know so." He set the sketchpad down carefully and pulled me into a hug. "I'm so proud of you, bud. For letting yourself do this."
I buried my face in his shoulder, overwhelmed by the emotion swelling in my chest. "Thank you."
"Nothing to thank me for."
"Yes, there is." I pulled back to look at him. "You make me feel like it's okay to want things. To do things just because they make me happy."
His expression softened. "That's exactly how it should be."
That evening, I showed the sketch to Sean and Atticus. They both gushed over it, with Sean immediately suggesting I do more drawings that could be framed and hung around the house.
"We could have a whole gallery," Sean said excitedly. "Tanner's ranch collection!"
"Let's start with one drawing," I said, laughing at his enthusiasm.
But secretly, I was already thinking about what I might draw next.
The sound of a phone ringing interrupted the peaceful moment. I recognized it as the house phone Atticus insisted on keeping in case there was ever a problem with cell phone signals out on the ranch. I frowned, trying to recall the last time I’d heard it go off. No one ever called.
“Hello?” Atticus said, answering the line that hung on the wall in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah. Just a second.”
His head popped around the corner, and he looked right at me. I didn’t need him to speak to know the call was for me.
Standing on shaky legs, I made my way into the kitchen. I felt everyone’s eyes tracking my movements. It would have been unnerving if not for the fact that I was concerned over who needed to reach me so badly they’d tracked me to the ranch.
I took the phone from Atticus, turning my back to everyone in a pitiful attempt at privacy. “Um, hi. This is Tanner speaking.”
