"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."
CHAPTER 16
Simon
I’d been planning the snack package for days.
It started when I noticed Tanner eyeing the fruit snacks in the pantry during one of Harlan's grocery hauls. He'd picked up the box, looked at it with a longing expression, then set it back down like he didn't deserve something so simple.
That wouldn't do.
Not on my watch.
So I'd made a list. Asked Harlan what he thought would work, got some suggestions from Sean who was an expert in little-friendly snacks, and then made a trip into town while Tanner was occupied with helping Bobby Allen in the stables.
Now the package sat in my room—I'd moved most of my things into Tanner's space over the past few days, but I still kept my old room for moments like this when I needed privacy to wrap gifts.
Inside a cheerful blue container with a locking lid, I'd arranged everything carefully: juice boxes in apple and fruit punch flavors, packets of fruit snacks (dinosaur-shaped, because they made me think of him), goldfish crackers in multiplevarieties, string cheese, pouches of applesauce, graham crackers, and some of those squeezable yogurt tubes that were easy to eat on the go.
Everything a little boy might want for snacks. Everything Tanner deserved to have without guilt.
I'd written the note this morning:
Treats for when you need something sweet or salty, or somewhere in between. You don't have to wait until you're starving. Snacks are allowed anytime. You're allowed to want things just because they sound good. Keep being brave. Keep letting yourself be cared for.
I tucked the note inside, closed the lid, and tied a ribbon around the container. Perfect.
The plan was to leave it on his bed while he was at breakfast. Simple, straightforward, and he'd find it when he went up to change after morning chores.
Except when I came downstairs with the container hidden in a bag, I found Tanner already in the kitchen, working with Harlan on something at the counter.
"Morning," I said, setting the bag down carefully by the door where he wouldn't see it.
Tanner's whole face lit up when he saw me. "Morning, Daddy! Harlan's teaching me how to make biscuits."
