Page 36 of Tanner

Tanner pushed himself upright. “I’ll go.”

Miles caught his wrist before he got far. “I meant with me.”

Tanner looked down at his hand on his wrist, then at Miles. “You ask that now?”

“I thought it was implied.”

Tanner snorted before he could stop himself. There it was again, that small change in Miles’ face like Tanner had given him something more than he’d expected, and Tanner didn’t understand it. “Fine. But if you use all the hot water, you can explain it to Savannah in the morning.”

Miles got out of bed. “I’ll take my chances.”

The shower was small and the water pressure wasn’t great, but it was warm, and that was enough. Tanner stood under it while Miles washed his hands over Tanner’s shoulders and back. As he cleaned Tanner, Miles kissed him softly, his hands gently touching him. Tanner had never experienced it before and found himself leaning into Miles' touch.

By the time Tanner got out and dried off, he’d completely relaxed.

They got dressed and went to the kitchen. Tanner heated the pot pie while Miles put plates on the table. It should have irritated him, somebody moving that easily in his kitchen, but Miles wasn’t like that. He just helped and that was the problem. Miles kept stepping into Tanner’s space and somehow making it feel easier to breathe.

They ate at the table and for a while the only sound was them eating.

Miles nodded toward the folded paper by Tanner’s elbow. “What’s that?”

Tanner glanced down. One of the forms from earlier had been left on the table. He’d shoved it aside before dinner with Savannah and forgotten it.

“Nothing.”

Miles didn’t reach for it. “Didn’t look like nothing.”

Tanner stabbed a piece of crust. “Doctor’s office. Preschool. Same crap.”

Miles waited.

Tanner hated that Miles waited better than most people asked questions. Most people filled the silence because they wanted to hear themselves talk or didn’t like to hear nothing. Miles left room for Tanner to either say something or not and that made it harder to ignore.

“I was trying to get Savannah in somewhere part time,” Tanner said at last. “Just a few mornings. Give her a routine with other kids. Give me time to get things done.” He shrugged and kept his eyes on his plate. “They asked for paperwork.”

“What kind?”

“Proof I can sign for her. Medical forms. School forms. Legal guardianship,” Tanner muttered. “Apparently being the one who feeds her and keeps her alive doesn’t count unless there’s a signature attached.”

Miles put his fork down. “What did you tell them?”

“That I’d come back.”

“And the doctor?”

Tanner’s jaw tightened. “Same thing. We need to register local. They asked questions.”

“You didn’t answer.”

Tanner looked at him then. “Are you surprised by that?”

Miles held his gaze. “No.”

Tanner leaned back in the chair. “I’m handling it.” Miles nodded. “I am.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t.”

“You were thinking it.”