Simon
The sun was just beginning to set over the ranch, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink that reflected off the remaining patches of spring snow. I stood on the porch of our cabin—our cabin, a thought that still made my chest warm—watching Tanner work with one of the new horses Bobby Allen had brought in last week.
Six months. It had been six months since Christmas, since I'd collared him, since we'd made our commitment official.
Six months of waking up beside him every morning. Six months of learning every sound he made, every expression that crossed his face. Six months of watching him heal and grow and become more himself than I'd ever seen him.
We'd moved into one of the smaller cabins on the property in February. Atticus and Sean had insisted—said that we needed our own space now that we were officially committed. The cabin was cozy, just two bedrooms, a living area, and a kitchen, but it was ours.
Tanner had turned the second bedroom into an office where he worked on the few cases he'd kept. He'd drastically reducedhis workload, taking on only the family law cases that truly needed him, the ones where children's welfare was at stake.
Everything else, he'd referred to other lawyers.
"I spent years drowning in work,"he'd told me one night as we discussed the changes."Trying to save everyone, fix everything. But I can't do that anymore. I won't."
I'd been so proud of him in that moment. Proud of how he'd learned to set boundaries, to prioritize his own well-being.
The office was also where he kept his little supplies. Coloring books and crayons organized neatly on shelves. His growing collection of stuffed animals—Peanut had been joined by several friends. A toy chest filled with puzzles and games and all the things that helped him slip into little space when he needed it.
And he needed it often. At least a few times a week, he'd come home from a difficult call or a stressful meeting and wordlessly hand me his work clothes, asking with his eyes for permission to be small.
I always said yes. Always helped him into his comfy clothes—usually the elephant onesie or soft pajamas. Always made sure he had his sippy cup filled with something sweet. Always held him while he colored or played or just existed in that peaceful, unburdened headspace.
Watching him learn to embrace that part of himself had been one of the greatest privileges of my life.
Now, I watched as he successfully got the skittish mare to take an apple from his hand. His patience with animals had improved dramatically over the past months. He'd become one of Bobby Allen's most reliable helpers, especially with the more nervous horses.
"She's a beauty, isn't she?" Bobby Allen's voice came from beside me. I hadn't heard him approach.
"She is," I agreed. "Tanner's doing well with her."
"He's got a gift. That gentle energy of his—animals respond to it." Bobby Allen leaned against the porch railing. "You two seem real happy."
"We are." I couldn't keep the smile off my face. "Happier than I ever thought I'd be again."
"Wren would be glad to see it."
I glanced at Bobby Allen, surprised. We didn't talk about Wren often, though everyone on the ranch knew my story.
"He would," I agreed quietly. "He'd have loved Tanner. Would have appreciated how he makes me laugh, how he challenges me to be better."
"That's what the right partner does." Bobby Allen clapped me on the shoulder. "I'm heading out. You two have a good evening."
After he left, I made my way down to where Tanner was still working with the mare. He looked up as I approached, his whole face lighting up.
Even after six months, that look still got me. Every single time.
"Hey, Daddy," he said, stroking the mare's neck. "Look how calm she is now."
"I see that. You did good work with her, bud." I came up beside him, pressing a kiss to his temple. "But it's getting late. Time to come inside."
"Just a few more minutes?" He gave me those eyes—the ones that were hard to resist.
"Five minutes," I said firmly. "Then we're going in. I'm making dinner, and you need to eat."
"Yes, Daddy." He turned back to the horse, but I could see his smile.
I went back to the cabin and started on dinner—nothing fancy, just pasta and grilled chicken, but Tanner had been working hard all day and needed a good meal.
