"So perfect." He clutched the note tighter. "They said I don't have to wait until I'm starving. That I'm allowed to want things just because they sound good."
"That's true, bud. You are allowed."
He looked at me then, his eyes swimming with emotion. "Why is this so hard? Why does it feel like such a big deal?"
"Because you've spent years denying yourself," I said honestly. "Years of putting everyone else first and ignoring your own wants. Learning to accept care, to let yourself want things—that's not easy. But you're doing it. You're learning."
He set the note down carefully and launched himself at me. I caught him, wrapping my arms around him as he buried his face in my neck.
"Thank you," he whispered.
"I didn’t actually do anything this time. You keep thanking me for nothing."
"But you did do something, Daddy. You let me express myself without making me feel stupid for it." He pulled back to look at me.
I cupped his face, brushing his cheeks with my thumbs. "You're not stupid. You're brave and wonderful, and I'm so damn proud of you."
His breath hitched, and for a moment I thought he might cry again. But instead, he kissed me—soft and sweet and full of trust.
When we pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine. "I really want to know who my Secret Santa is."
"You will. On Christmas." I pressed another quick kiss to his lips. "For now, just enjoy the gifts. Let yourself be spoiled a little."
"Okay." He took a deep breath, then another. "Okay, I can do that."
"Good boy." I stood and offered him my hand. "Now come on. Those biscuits are probably ready, and you should be there when Harlan pulls them out."
He took my hand and let me lead him back downstairs, but not before grabbing a packet of fruit snacks and clutching it like a prize.
In the kitchen, Harlan was indeed pulling the biscuits from the oven. They were golden brown and imperfect and absolutely beautiful.
"Look at those," Harlan said approvingly. "You did good, Tanner."
"Really?" Tanner peered at them hopefully.
"Really. Here, try one." Harlan split one open, butter melting into the steaming interior, and handed it to him.
Tanner took a bite, and his eyes went wide. "Oh my god, this is amazing."
"That's because you made it yourself," Harlan said. "Food always tastes better when you put love into it."
I watched Tanner eat his biscuit, watched the joy on his face at this simple accomplishment, and felt that familiar warmth spread through my chest.
This was what I wanted to give him. Not just gifts—though those mattered too—but moments. Experiences. The chance to find joy in small things.
"Daddy, you have to try one," Tanner said, breaking me from my thoughts. He was holding out a biscuit, his expression eager.
I took it and bit in. It was buttery and flaky and exactly what a biscuit should be. "This is delicious, bud. You did an excellent job."
His smile could have powered the whole ranch.
After breakfast—biscuits with jam and bacon—Atticus appeared with a list of tasks for the day. I noticed mine and Tanner's names weren't on it, and I caught Atticus's eye questioningly.
He pulled me aside while Tanner was distracted talking to Sean. "Figured he could use another day to relax," Atticus said quietly. "He's been working hard, helping out wherever he's needed. But that's not why he's here."
"No," I agreed. "He's here to rest."
"Exactly. So you two take today for yourselves. Do something fun. Something that lets him justbe."
