Page 20 of Wynter's Second Chance

We stayed like that for a moment, the unspoken understanding between us stronger than any words could be. And then, without thinking, I leaned into him, my head resting on his shoulder, his warmth seeping into me. His arm wrapped around me, solid and steady, and we sat like that, holding each other in the quiet.

It wasn’t a romantic hug, not exactly, but there was something in it—a connection I hadn’t felt in years. It was like he understood every part of me, the broken bits and the scars, and he wasn’t turning away. I closed my eyes, breathing him in, his cedar-and-smoke scent filling my senses.

After a while, Wynter’s voice came, low and comforting. “We’re going to get through this, Taran. You, me, Rory. We’ve all been through enough loss. It’s time we find something better.”

I pulled back, meeting his gaze, a soft smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah… maybe it is.”

Just then, the front door creaked open, and Rory’s voice rang through the hallway. “Dad? I’m back!”

Wynter and I both let go quickly, straightening up as Rory came bounding into the kitchen, cheeks flushed from the cold, arms full of empty boxes from the deliveries. He stopped, looking between us with a curious gleam in his eye.

“You guys okay?” he asked, tilting his head.

I cleared my throat, smiling. “Yeah, kiddo. Just talking.”

Rory gave us a look, like he knew there was more to the story, but he didn’t push it. Instead, he grinned, grabbing a leftover burrito from the counter. “Well, just so you know, I scored two new customers tonight. Think I might be better at sales than you, Dad.”

Wynter chuckled. “Sounds like you’re going to give your old man a run for his money.”

Rory puffed up with pride, and warmth settled in my chest as I watched him warm up to Wynter, bantering with him. Maybe things were falling into place, just a little.

CHAPTER 10

WYNTER

I woke up the next morning with a calm that felt foreign. Sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, warming the cabin’s small, quiet space, and I lay there a moment, letting the stillness settle around me. Last night, over plates of burritos and easy laughter, I’d finally summoned the nerves to tell Taran the words that I never thought I’d have to say—that my marriage was over, about the deep sense of betrayal, about how things had crumbled, quietly, then all at once.

I thought of the look in his eyes, the way he’d listened, no judgment, just… understanding. He’d reached out and held my arm, and I felt it then—a kind of release I hadn’t known I needed.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d been carrying alone. And now, just lying here, I knew I wasn’t the same man I’d been yesterday.

Reaching over to the nightstand, I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to Taran, still riding the lightness from last night.

Me: Morning. Thanks for the therapy session. Do I owe you a co-pay?

His response came quickly.

Taran: Just pay in burritos next time.

I chuckled, settling back into bed, still a bit amazed at how easy it had been to talk to him, to let a little of the weight go.

Me: Noted. I’ll bring extra salsa for your troubles.

Taran: Thoughtful of you. I didn’t realize you had that side.

Me: You’d be surprised. I’m a man of many facets.

He took a minute to reply, and I could almost imagine him rolling his eyes on the other end.

Taran: Since you’re so full of holiday spirit, you should come to the tree lighting tonight. Town square’s going all out this year.

For a second, I felt a jolt of nostalgia. It’d been too long since I’d been part of something like that.

Me: Almost forgot that it was tonight. But yeah, sounds good. I can pick you and Rory up?

Taran: Works for us. Just don’t be late.

Me: Not a chance.

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