When we pulled apart, I rested my head against his side, still holding my elephant.
"I named him," I said quietly.
"Yeah? What's his name?"
"Peanut." I felt my cheeks heat. "Is that silly?"
"Not even a little bit." Simon's hand came up to stroke my hair. "Peanut is a perfect name."
We sat like that for a while, comfortable in the quiet. And even though I still didn't know who my Secret Santa was, even though part of me wished it could be Simon, I felt content.
I had this moment. This comfort. This joy.
CHAPTER 18
Simon
The nightlight had been the easiest gift to choose.
I'd noticed that first night—when Tanner had fallen asleep in his clothes, exhausted and overwhelmed—that he'd left the lamp on. At first, I'd thought it was an oversight, that he'd been too tired to reach over and turn it off.
But then it kept happening.
Every night, even when I was there with him, he'd leave some light on. The lamp. The bathroom light with the door cracked. Even just the hallway light filtering under the door.
He never said anything about it. Never explained.
But I understood.
Darkness could be overwhelming when you were already struggling. When your mind was racing with thoughts and worries and fears, the dark just made it all feel bigger.
So I'd ordered the nightlight—a projector that would cast stars and galaxies across the ceiling. Something that tied back to his star blanket, to that theme of comfort and softness and light.
Chasing away the dark,I'd written in the note. You don't have to be afraid of it, but you don't have to face it alone either. Let the stars keep you company.
The package had arrived this morning, and I'd wrapped it immediately, leaving it on his nightstand while he was downstairs having breakfast with Sean. I was going to need to send our delivery driver a big gift once the holiday was done. They’d been working overtime for my gifts alone.
I was out in the north pasture with Jackson and Corey, checking the herd since we got word another storm was coming. The weather had been unpredictable lately—clear one day, dumping snow the next.
"You're distracted," Jackson observed, his eyes locked on the animals despite his comment about me.
"Am not."
"Are too." Corey grinned at me from where he was leaning back in his saddle. "You keep looking back at the house like Tanner's going to disappear if you don't keep an eye on him."
"I do not—" I stopped, realizing I'd been doing exactly that. "Okay, fine. Maybe a little."
"It's cute," Jackson said. "You've got it bad."
"I'm aware. Is it that obvious?"
"To everyone except Tanner, yeah." Jackson paused in his work. "Though honestly, he's just as bad. Boy lights up like a Christmas tree every time you walk into a room."
The thought made warmth spread through my chest. "He does?"
"Oh yeah. It's disgusting how cute you two are." But Jackson was smiling. "Seriously though, I'm happy for you, man. You both deserve this."
We worked in companionable silence for a while, the rhythm of the work soothing. This was what I'd always loved about ranch life—the physical labor, the tangible results, the way you could lose yourself in the simple tasks.
