“MERRY CHRISTMAS, LOGAN. This one’s from us.”

Logan looked up into the bright eyes of Tate’s nephew Cooper, as he handed Logan a colorfully wrapped box with a big red bow on it.

“Thank you,” Logan said as he took the gift, and when Cooper grinned and his hair flopped down in his face, Logan caught a glimpse of Tate as a child and chuckled.

“What is it?” Logan asked as he raised the box by his ear and lightly shook it. It was Christmas Eve and he was sitting cross-legged on a cushion in front of Will Morrison’s Christmas tree with Tate to his left and Will on the couch behind them. Jill was seated on the opposite love seat beside Sam, and Jackie was in the kitchen getting them all a refill of eggnog.

“I can’t tell you,” Cooper said, heading back to the tree, where his brother was picking up the next gift. “It’s a surprise.”

Jonathon looked at the tag on the top of the gift he held and then raced over to stop in front of Tate. “This one’s for you, Uncle Tate. It’s from Granddad.”

Tate took the small box from his nephew and put it down with the other gifts by his side. “Thanks, Jon.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Oooh look at this one, Jon,” Cooper said as he picked up the box that Logan had wrapped last night, which held the many video games Tate had come home with for them. “This one has our name on it.”

“No way,” Jonathon said as he took it from his brother.

“Yeah, it is.” As the two of them put it over on their pile, Copper said, “It’s from Uncle Tate and Uncle Logan.” And as the words—innocent as they were—lingered in the air, the adults in the room seemed to freeze.

Logan looked over at Tate, who gave him a half-smile, and then Logan felt Will’s hand land on his shoulder and squeeze.

“Well, Logan’s not quite your uncle yet, Coop,” Will said, and Cooper turned around to face his granddad. “But sometime next year, we can legally claim him. Or so I’m told.”

Logan swallowed and nodded because it was all he could manage, and then Sam saved him by speaking up.

“That’s right. I heard you’re finally going to become one of us,” he said. “Have you decided when?”

Logan shook his head as Tate said, “We’re thinking late January, if we can pull it off.”

Sam chuckled and said to Logan, “You should see your face, man. A little overwhelmed?”

Logan licked his lips as he turned to Tate and took his hand. “A little. I’m the kind of guy who’d just rather—”

“Elope,” Tate cut in, and when Logan opened his mouth to refute it, Tate pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t bother trying to deny it. You’d rather just show up and have it over with.”

“That’s not true,” Logan said, and when Will laughed, Logan looked back at him. “Okay. So it might be a little bit true.”

“Uh huh,” Tate said as Jackie re-entered the living room with a tray of drinks that they each took.

“But… I agreed to a wedding. So, a wedding there will be.” Logan then leaned over to kiss Tate’s cheek and pointed to a round box under the tree. “That one there, Jonathon,” Logan said, changing the subject, “that’s for your mom.”

As the rest of the presents were handed out and everyone tore into their gifts, Logan ended up with a new tie, a set of scotch tumblers, and a new pen set.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged, whoops and cheers of excitement filled the air, and after everything had settled down, Will and Jackie headed off into the kitchen to check on the lasagna and the boys went upstairs to wash up. Sam and Jill were chatting amongst themselves, and when Logan looked over at Tate, he saw him staring down at the gift from his father.

He’d kept it aside until the very end, and as Tate unwrapped his final present, Logan saw it was a wooden box about the size of Tate’s hands.

Curious as to what it was, Logan leaned in to Tate’s side as he flipped opened the lid. The box was empty, but as Tate ran his thumb over the flat surface on the underside of the lid, Logan noticed what he was touching—words. There was something etched into the cherry wood there.

Tate closed the lid and handed him the box, and when Logan looked down at it, his breath caught. On the top of the lid was a messy engraving that read: A Son’s Prayer. Dear God, make me the kind of man my father is. And under it was an image burned into the wood of a man in jeans and flannel, holding a little boy’s hand.

As Logan touched the surface, Tate said, “Open it.”

Logan opened the lid and looked inside, and the words that were written there had his eyes blurring. A Father’s Prayer. Dear God, make me the kind of man my son thinks I am.

“I made that for him one Christmas. I think I was…nine or ten, maybe?” Tate explained as Logan shut the lid to read it again. “It was for his watch and other knickknacks. I had one of my neighbors help me engrave it. The words on the inside, they’re new.”

“It’s beautiful,” Logan said, and leaned over to kiss Tate as he handed the box back, and when Tate smiled against his mouth, Logan had a thought. It was slightly unconventional, and definitely too late, and as he got to his feet, Tate looked up at him with a question in his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tate said, and looked back down at the box, clearly touched by what his father had done for him.

Logan walked into the kitchen to find Will and Jackie in the midst of a sweet embrace, and when his shoes on the tile alerted them to his presence, Will slowly pulled away and Jackie giggled.

“Sorry,” Logan said, as he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans.

“Oh, stop it,” Will said. “How many times have I walked in on you and Tate?”

“Probably more often than you’d like.”

Will kissed Jackie on the cheek and then faced Logan. “You’re probably right.”

“Behave,” Jackie said, and swatted at Will’s arm.

“Okay, okay,” he said, and then asked Logan, “Can I help you with something, son?”

Logan walked further into the kitchen and nodded. “Yes, actually. I was wondering if you had a minute?”

“I’ll leave you both to it,” Jackie said as she picked up a basket of bread rolls. “I’ll make sure everyone’s up at the table.”

“Thanks, Jackie,” Will said as she wandered out of the kitchen, and then he turned back to the sink. “Come and make yourself useful.”

Logan came around the island, and Will handed him a bag of romaine lettuce and then put a colander in the sink.

“Help me wash that for the salad, would you?”

Logan nodded, pushed his shirt and sweater sleeves up, and turned on the tap. “I can do that.”

“Good job,” Will said as he washed some tomatoes and started to cut them, and as they worked silently for a few minutes, Logan enjoyed the comfort of the moment and allowed himself to become familiar with it.

He’d never had this, this…fatherly role model. A man to look up to and admire. But as he stood by Will’s side and looked at their reflection in the large double windows, he was amazed by the fact that he was getting it now.

“You’re thinking so loudly I can hear it,” Will said as he raised his eyes to meet Logan’s in the window, and when Logan’s lips curved, Will said, “Something on your mind?”

Logan shook a piece of the lettuce, dropped it into the colander, and nodded. “Tate really loved what you gave him for Christmas. I’m sure he’ll tell you that when you go back in there.”

“Ahh, good. He was so proud of that when he gave it to me. I used it for years. I thought he could have it now as a family thing, you know? For his watch and rings, among other things.”

“I do, and I know he will. I was… I wanted to talk to you for a minute about something I should’ve done a while back.” Logan paused and picked up the dishtowel to wipe his hands, and then he turned to Will and said, “Thank you. Thank you for raising my best friend. For raising the best man I have ever met.”

Logan’s voice trembled slightly, but as Will looked at him, Logan didn’t care. He needed to say this, wanted this rite of passage to be something he could look back on and know he did with nothing but hope and the ridiculous anxiety any nervous boyfriend had when asking permission to marry someone’s son.

Yeah…I’m a little late. But the sentiment and the nerves are still the same, Logan thought, as he stared at Will’s curious expression. Here goes nothing.

“You’re such a good man, Will. A wonderful father, not only to Jill and Tate but also to someone who’s never had one, and I can’t thank you enough for that. I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Logan swallowed around the lump in his throat, and once he got himself under control, he continued. “There is something I can do in return, though. I can promise to love your boy to the very end of my life. I’ll take care of him. I’ll fight with him. I’ll make him smile, and I will love him. That’s what I can give you. My promise. And even though I’m doing this all kind of backward, I would really like your permission, and blessing, to marry Tate.”

Logan stood there wringing the dishtowel between his hands and had no idea what to expect from Will. But when he smiled, the same charming grin that was identical to his son’s, Logan couldn’t believe that this man—a man he’d never expected would talk to him, let alone accept him into his heart—was now pulling him into an embrace.

Logan shut his eyes and wrapped his arms around Will, and when he thumped him on the back, Will said in his ear, “Welcome to the family, son. You’ve had my blessing for a long time. You belong with us. With Tate.”

When Logan blinked and opened his eyes, he spotted Tate over his father’s shoulder. He was standing just inside the kitchen door with the box in his hand and what felt like all the love in the world coming from his eyes, and Logan knew without a doubt that, yes, I’m going to love that boy to the very end of my life.

* * *

AS THE CLOCK hit well after midnight, Tate buckled his seatbelt and rubbed his hands together to ward off the cold.

His father and Jackie stood huddled by the passenger door of the Audi, and as snow fell around them, Tate wound his window down to say goodnight.

“Have a wonderful Christmas, you two,” his dad said.

“Oh yes,” Jackie said as his father pulled her into his side to keep her warm. “Do you do anything special?”

“We stay home,” Logan said, and Tate laughed.

“Yeah. We spend the day together and then we head over to Cole and Rachel’s for dinner.”

“That sounds lovely,” Jackie said with a kind smile. “Well, we won’t hold you up anymore. You have to get home before Santa gets to your house.”

Tate chuckled and nodded. “That we do. You two have a good day tomorrow with your family, Jackie.”

“We will. I think this guy’s nervous, but—”

“I’m not nervous,” Will said, and jostled her arm. “I’m looking forward to it. Now go on, you two. Be safe driving home.”

“We will,” Tate promised, as he wound the window up and stared out at the two of them.

“They’re really great together,” Logan said as he put the car in reverse and slowly backed out of the driveway. When the car’s headlights lit them up and Tate saw Jackie waving at them, he grinned.

“Yeah, they are. I like her a lot.”

“So do I,” Logan said. “And let’s be real, she can make one hell of a lasagna.”

Tate couldn’t argue with that. The lasagna had been cheesy, tomato-y goodness, and Logan had had two helpings and practically groaned the entire way through the meal.

“She really can. It’s nice that he has someone back in his life,” Tate said as Logan drove through the quiet streets of his childhood. Christmas music was playing softly over the car’s speakers, and Tate sighed as he looked at the colorful lights on all the houses they passed. “I love this,” he said when Logan came to a stop at the end of the street.

“What’s that?”

“The quiet that comes on Christmas Eve. It’s like the whole world is asleep waiting for that magic to happen in their house, you know?”

Logan smiled and took his hand. “I do. It’s very peaceful.”

Tate nodded as Logan started to drive again, and when he came up to the lights where they usually made a turn to head home, Tate touched his arm and said, “Can you make a left here instead?” Logan frowned at him, but Tate nodded. “There’s somewhere I’d like to go before we head home, if you’re not too tired.”

Logan merged into the turning lane and flicked on his indicator. “I’m not tired. Plus, I get to sleep in tomorrow.”

“Hmm, best part about Christmas Day, if you ask me.”

“Sleeping in?” Logan asked, as he turned the car onto the street.

“Sleeping in with you.”

“Be careful,” Logan said as he cast a quick look in Tate’s direction. “If you keep looking at me like that, you’re going to end up on the naughty list.”

Tate laughed and took Logan’s hand. “Well, at least I’d be in good company.”

Logan protested for about a second, and then rolled his eyes. “You’re right—who am I kidding? I’m the king of that list.”

“I would agree with that. Make a right up here,” Tate said at the next set of lights.

“It was nice to see your father and Jill getting along better tonight,” Logan said as he made the turn and drove down into a new neighborhood.

“They had a ‘talk,’” Tate said, and laughed a little. Then he sobered and looked at Logan’s handsome profile. “Seems Dad was having a talk with everyone tonight. Are you two…”

Logan glanced at him, and the grin on his face only made it more attractive, if that was possible. “We’re good. I just wanted to ask him something.”

“Oh?”

“Mhmm.”

“Are you going to tell me what?” Tate asked, and Logan shook his head.

“Nope. That’s between him and me.”

Tate pointed to the next street and said, “Make a right here. You do know he’ll tell me if I ask, don’t you?”

“You already did, didn’t you?”

As Logan pulled the car to a stop at a deserted intersection, Tate leaned across the console and kissed him. “I love that you asked him.”

Logan shook his head, and when Tate caught the sheepish look on his face, he chuckled.

“Deep down inside, under this bravado you show the world, is a very sweet man, Logan Mitchell.”

“Deep, deep down inside,” Logan agreed, and then took Tate’s lips in a kiss. “And only for you.”

“I like that too.”

“Hmm, good. Now,” Logan said as he made what would be the final turn. “Where to?”

Tate looked out the windshield, pointed to the left side of the road, and said, “Just over there. You can pull the car up by the curb.”

As Logan pulled the car to a stop, he peered out the window at the building across the street that was lit up with floodlights on every corner. “A church, huh?”

“Not just any church,” Tate said as the car idled. “The one we went to when I was growing up. The one Dad stopped going to.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Tate said, and pointed to all the cars in the lot. “They’re just finishing up midnight mass.”

As he continued to watch the people starting to mill out of the front doors and gather at the front of the church, Logan shifted in his seat.

“You don’t want to get married at—”

“No.” Tate started laughing. “Though you should see your face. You look worried.”

“Not worried,” Logan said. “But I’m not sure I could say no to you, and honestly, this kind of setting makes me…nervous. I don’t want to feel like that on my wedding day.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to make you get married in a church,” Tate reassured him, and looked back out the windshield. “I just wanted to come by and see it. All of this reconnection in my family lately made me a little nostalgic, I guess. This used to be something I looked forward to as a kid.”

“I can understand that.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to see—” Tate’s words came to a halt as his eyes stopped on a woman who had just stepped through the doors and was walking down the stairs, and when Logan saw who he was looking at, the only word that followed was one that should never be repeated when sitting outside a church.

* * *

SOME FACES NEVER left your mind. They were seared into your memory for good or bad reasons, and as Logan sat in his car on this Christmas Eve night, he was looking at a face he would never, ever forget—Tate’s mother.

Tate had gone still and silent beside him, and when Logan finally managed to tear his eyes away from the woman now standing at the bottom of the stairs talking to two others, he glanced over at Tate and saw a man who looked as though he’d seen a ghost.

“Tate—”

“Wait,” he said, and raised his hand, and Logan immediately shut his mouth.

The radio was playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” in the background as the snow silently fell against the hood of the car, and Tate sat forward in his seat and said, so softly that Logan barely heard him, “It’s really her.”

Logan looked back out the window and nodded. Yes, it really was.

“I didn’t… I wasn’t…thinking…that…” Tate took Logan’s hand. “She looks the same.”

Logan laced his fingers through Tate’s and swallowed. “She does.” When Tate said nothing else, Logan said, “Do you want to—”

“No,” Tate said, and abruptly shook his head, cutting off any suggestion Logan might’ve been about to make. “Just… Can we…”

When Tate’s words seemed to fail him, Logan said, “We can do whatever you like.”

Tate didn’t take his eyes away from the stranger across the street, but when he blinked and a tear escaped the corner of his eye, Logan bit down on his lip and sat silently beside him.

He wasn’t sure how long they sat there like that. Seconds. Minutes. Hours, maybe…but as the small group of women split up and walked to each of their cars, Logan kept his eyes on the petite one with the blunt bob and red coat as she walked to her Honda and slipped inside.

When she shut the door and turned on her headlights to drive away, Tate looked at Logan and whispered, “Thank you.”

Logan brought Tate’s hand up to his mouth and brushed a kiss across the back of his knuckles. “Are you okay?”

Tate nodded and turned his hand over to cradle Logan’s cheek. “Yeah. I just needed to say goodbye, and now I have.”

Logan’s heart broke a little as he sat there staring across the quiet darkness inside the car. “She’s missing out on so much.”

Tate kissed Logan’s mouth, and then he shut his eyes and said, “Yeah, she is. But that’s not my problem, and it is certainly not yours.”

Logan placed a hand over Tate’s and drew it away from his face. “Let’s go home.”

Tate nodded and reached for the volume button on the radio, and when he turned it up and another Christmas classic filled the car, Logan heard him say, “Home is exactly where I want to be. Let’s go.”