Soooo, i have been obsessing over #Tarlos recently. I wanna share with you some one-shots. Always looking forward every week to new episode of the last Season of 911 Lone Star.
TK noticed it the second Jonah came barreling out of the school gate and didn't actually barrel at all. Usually their five-year-old was a comet—high-velocity curls, backpack bouncing, a squeal of "Papa-bro!" that made the other parents smile—but today he walked fast and small, eyes on the toes of his sneakers. TK crouched anyway, arms open. Jonah stepped into the hug but didn't melt like he usually did. He kept his chin tucked, his cheeks warm under TK's palms.
"Hey, little man," TK said softly. "How was centers today? Blocks or books?"
"Blocks," Jonah murmured.
"Did you build a spaceship? A castle? An alligator?" TK wiggled his fingers like jaws.
"Just blocks," Jonah said, and the words dropped like pebbles.
In the car, TK passed back the snack pack—apple slices, cheese, a little bag of pretzels. Jonah ate in silence. No running commentary about which slice looked like Texas, no question about whether alligators could be firefighters. TK watched him in the rearview and felt something sink in his chest.
He thumbed his phone at a stoplight. He typed, then deleted, then settled on simple.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
TK glanced back again. Jonah had lined up the pretzels by size. TK reached over the seat at the next red light and brushed a curl from Jonah's forehead. He pressed a kiss there, light and steady, the way Jonah liked. Jonah leaned into it for a second, then went back to sorting.
They got home to the loft and the familiar hush of the afternoon. The far corner of the living room was Jonah's space—two soft dividers printed with stars, a tiny bookshelf, a race-car rug, a nightlight that made constellations on the ceiling. TK had strung fairy lights around the top edges himself last month, hands shaking a little because everything for Jonah felt like it had to be perfect now. He set the backpack on the hook, watched Jonah toe off his shoes and slide onto his beanbag without asking for cartoons.
"You want me to read?" TK tried. "Dragon book? The silly one with the tacos?"
Jonah shook his head.
TK breathed in through his nose and sat on the floor next to him anyway. He didn't poke. He didn't pry. He just pressed another kiss to Jonah's hair and tapped the crown lightly, the way his mom used to do to him, the way he'd promised himself he would do for this boy as long as he got the privilege.
After dinner, Carlos FaceTimed from the Ranger office, hat off, tie already loosened, tired lines around his eyes. "Hey, champ," he said, voice warm. "Tell me your best thing from today."
Jonah looked at the screen, and for a heartbeat TK thought he might beam. Instead Jonah's eyes flickered and he whispered, "Snack time."
