Page 35 of Wynter's Second Chance

As I walked along the hallway, the weight of the box in my arms felt lighter now, though my chest carried its own burden.

Rory was on the couch, knees drawn up, his focus on the TV. When he saw me, his face didn’t harden like it had yesterday, but he didn’t light up either. Somewhere in between—neutral, cautious.

I set the box on the coffee table and sat on the floor beside it. “I brought something. A way to always keep your papa close.”

Rory’s eyes flicked to the box, then to me, unsure. He unfolded his legs slightly, his curiosity piqued.

I lifted the lid slowly, letting him see the contents at his own pace. “I collected these over the years I knew him. Things he left behind or gave me. They’re not much, but I thought maybe we could make a space for him here. A memory corner?”

Rory’s brow furrowed as he shifted forward, his feet now flat on the floor. “A memory corner?”

I nodded, glancing around the living room. “A place to honor him. Not to put him aside, but to make sure he’s always part of this home. Part of you.” My gaze settled on the corner near the fireplace, a spot framed by soft holiday lights and a small shelf Taran had once mentioned was meant for family mementos. It felt right.

Rory’s eyes darted to Taran, who stood leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed but his expression open. “Can we?” Rory asked quietly.

Taran’s throat worked as he swallowed, his voice steady. “If you want to, Rory.”

I reached into the box, pulling out the faded, well-worn cap. “This was Royce’s favorite cap when he was a kid,” I began, holding it out to Rory. “He wore it every time he went on a hike—said it was his lucky charm.”

Rory’s fingers brushed the brim, tentative, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“Every time he wore it, something good happened,” I continued softly. “Like finding the perfect trail or spotting an animal he’d never seen before. He called it his magic cap.” I chuckled. “It didn’t always work when he was watching the Nuggets play ball, though.”

Rory’s lips twitched, as if he might smile, but he glanced away quickly.

“You can decide where it goes,” I encouraged. “This is your corner too.”

Rory hesitated, looking at the empty space near the fireplace. The twinkling lights cast a warm glow over it, as if inviting him to claim it. Slowly, he stood, the cap in his hands.

Taran shifted slightly, the soft creak of the wooden floor drawing my attention. He hadn’t said much since I arrived, but his quiet presence filled the room, steady and reassuring. I caught his gaze for a brief moment, and the understanding there was enough to push back the weight of my nerves.

Rory moved toward the corner, the cap held tightly in his grip. “It’s not going to be the same,” he muttered.

“No,” I agreed gently. “It won’t. But that doesn’t mean we can’t remember him. Or that you can’t still love him just as much.”

His shoulders hunched slightly as he glanced over his shoulder at me. “You don’t understand. He’s gone. And now you—” His voice cracked, and he turned away.

“I don’t plan to take Royce’s place,” I said, keeping my voice steady despite the tremor in his. “He was your papa, and he will remain so. But maybe…” I hesitated, drawing a careful breath. “Maybe someday, you and I can be friends. And we can share our memories of him because I loved him a lot too.”

Rory turned back slowly, his dark eyes shimmering with tears. His lips trembled as he clutched the cap closer.

“If you loved Papa, you would have stayed away from Dad.”

His words hit like a blow, but I didn’t flinch. “It’s precisely because I love him that I can’t stay away. Back in the army…” My voice faltered, the memory tugging at my resolve. “…Royce saved my life once.”

Rory’s attention sharpened. “How?”

“We were in enemy territory,” I said, my hand unconsciously brushing my arm where the scar still lingered beneath the fabric of my shirt. “Twelve of us, trapped between two groups of rebels. I crawled out of our hiding place to scout, but one of the men spotted me. He fired, and I was hit.” I rolled up my sleeve slightly, showing the faint outline of the wound.

Rory stepped closer, his eyes wide.

“Your papa didn’t hesitate. He crawled out under heavy fire and dragged me back. It was a miracle he wasn’t hit. I was in the hospital for weeks. Before they took me away, I told him something I’d said a million times before: if he ever needed anything, he just had to ask.” I paused, swallowing hard. “Do you know what he said?”

Rory shook his head, his silence urging me on.

“All he wanted was for me to look out for his family if anything happened to him. That’s the kind of man your papa was. He didn’t just save lives; he made sure everyone around him, everyone he loved, felt safe. He loved you more than anything and wanted you to always be safe, but war…” My voice wavered. “War broke him in ways no one could fix.”

Rory’s gaze flickered to Taran. “What if you… decide to die too?”

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