Page 19 of Wynter's Second Chance

We slipped off our shoes and strolled toward the kitchen. “Gave me the whole ‘I can handle it myself’ speech when I offered a hand.”

“I’m so proud of my son, Wyn. He told me he’s working on a super secret mission.”

“I can see it now. ‘Kid saves Christmas—one cupcake at a time.’ The whole town’s rooting for him.”

I gave him a playful punch on his shoulder—his very muscular shoulder.

Wynter’s laugh echoed through the kitchen, warm and familiar. I glanced at him, hesitating for only a second before asking, “Hey, do you want burritos? I’ve got everything to throw some together.”

His face lit up, a grin spreading across his lips. “You’re offering me your famous burritos? I’d be an idiot to say no.”

I smirked. “Good answer. I’ll get started on those. If you want something to drink, feel free to raid the cupboards.”

We moved around my small kitchen like we had a thousand times before. I started layering the burritos while Wynter pulled out ingredients for hot chocolate—cocoa powder, milk, and cinnamon appearing on the counter with careful precision. It wasn’t exactly a traditional pairing, but neither were we.

There was something calming about the quiet rhythm of it all, something that felt a lot like home.

“You still make your hot chocolate from scratch, huh?” I teased, sprinkling shredded cheese on top of the burritos.

“Only way to do it right.” He smirked, pouring the milk into a pot and flicking on the stove. “You wouldn’t understand—you coffee snobs have no appreciation for the true culinary art of cocoa.”

I nudged him, feeling the warmth of his arm. “Coffee people are just more sophisticated, that’s all.”

“Sophisticated,” he snorted. “Sure, that’s one word for it.”

As the smell of green chili filled the kitchen, mingling with the sweetness of cocoa, I took a breath. The warmth, the smells—it all felt like a blanket I hadn’t realized I needed. Wynter reached up into the cupboard for the mugs, his shirt lifting just enough to show a hint of skin at his waist, and I found myself glancing away quickly, feeling a flicker of something unexpected.

Soon, we had the burritos and the hot chocolate laid out on the small dining table. Wynter slid into the seat across from me, and we both dug in, the familiar flavors hitting just right. It felt… safe, like a moment outside of time.

After a few bites, Wynter set down his fork and leaned back, his face shadowed. “You know, Taran, there’s… there’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

I looked up, waiting, the air growing a little heavier.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, looking anywhere but at me. “Things between Lisa and me… I know you probably guessed it wasn’t great.” His voice softened, a bit rough. “But it was worse than I let on.”

A lump formed in my throat as I nodded. “I had a feeling.”

He looked down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. “When I got home that day—after months of planning that whole damn surprise—I found out she’d been… with someone else.” His voice wavered, but he cleared his throat, steadying himself. “I came home to a stranger, Taran. And I realized I hadn’t really known her in a long time. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.”

I reached across the table, laying a hand on his forearm. “Wyn… I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine finding that out, especially after coming home like that.”

He closed his eyes, drawing a shaky breath. “I felt like a fool. I filed for a divorce, and…” He trailed off, his eyes finally meeting mine, and in them, I saw a depth of pain.

I squeezed his arm, my chest tightening as I saw just how much he’d been holding back. “You’re not a fool. You loved her, trusted her. That’s not something to be ashamed of.”

He smiled sadly. “Yeah… maybe.”

We fell silent, the warmth of the kitchen and the glow of the lights creating a cocoon around us. I didn’t pull my hand back from his arm and he didn’t move away, both of us lingering in the quiet, like we needed it.

And then, before I even knew why, I started talking. “You know… there was a time I thought I didn’t deserve to be loved. After Royce… after I lost him.” My voice caught, but Wynter didn’t look away, his gaze steady, patient. I took a deep breath and kept going. “We’d had this stupid argument. I was tired, he was… struggling. I went out to clear my head, and when I came back, he was gone.”

Wynter’s eyes widened, his hand moving up to cover mine now. “Taran… God, I had no idea. You never?—”

“I didn’t talk about it.” My voice cracked, but I forced myself to keep going. “He was everything to me, Wynter. But I could have been more patient. A career-ending injury, plus PTSD and other mental health challenges… I missed all the signs. All the times he’d hinted that maybe he couldn’t keep going. I didn’t see it until it was too late.”

A tear slipped down my cheek, and Wynter brushed it away with his thumb, his touch gentle, grounding. “I can’t imagine that kind of loss, Taran. But you know he loved you, right?Whatever happened, that doesn’t change the fact that he loved you.”

I nodded, blinking back the tears. “Took me years to believe that.”

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