Page 22 of Wynter's Second Chance

Before we moved on, Rory tugged at his dad’s sleeve. “Let’s take a picture!” he urged, pulling him toward the decorated tree. Rory tossed a look my way. “Come on, Wynter, you have to be in the picture!”

Now, that warmed my heart, him wanting me to be part of this moment.

I followed them over to the base of the tree, where the soft glow of the lights lit up Rory’s beaming face. Taran pulled out his phone, and we crowded together in front of the massive tree. Rory grinned widely, practically bouncing with energy, and I threw my arm around his shoulder, feeling the warmth of his excitement spill into me.

“Alright, everyone in,” Taran said, a smile curling at his lips as he held the phone up to snap the photo.

The camera flashed, and in that moment, the world seemed to slow. It was just a photo—a simple picture to capture the evening—but I felt something shift inside me, something that settled deep and steady. A keepsake, maybe. A small, beautiful piece of this moment to hold onto, and maybe, just maybe, start a new tradition.

I looked at the picture when I got home later, standing with Taran and Rory, the tree lit up behind us, the joy on their faces undeniable. This wasn’t just a moment. It was the beginning of something. A promise, maybe. A hope. A family.

CHAPTER 11

TARAN

The house felt strangely empty after Rory left with Nancy and Matthew. I watched them pull out of the driveway, Rory waving through the window, his excitement for basketball camp nearly contagious. A part of me missed him already, even if it was just a day camp. I stood by the window, hands shoved into my hoodie pockets, staring out at the quiet street. It wasn’t just the silence—it was the absence of routine, of laughter, of Rory’s footsteps running down the stairs.

The sudden buzz of my phone broke through the stillness.

Wyn.

A smile found its way to my face as I sat on the couch and answered the call. “Hi.”

“Hey, Taran.” Wynter’s voice was warm, and I could almost hear the smile in it. “Are you free to hang out today?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Come up to Pinecrest Cabins,” he said, a hint of mischief sneaking into his voice. “We can go for a hike.”

“All the way up there?”

“I’ve been renting a cabin since the split. Meant to mention it, just... slipped my mind.”

I straightened up, caught off guard. “Wait—you’ve been staying up in Pinecrest this whole time?”

“I know, I know, I know,” he said, a touch of sheepishness in his tone. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

I leaned back against the cushions, surprised, but mostly curious. “I totally understand.”

Wyn offered to pick me up, and of course, I agreed, even though something in my stomach flipped. Could it be because of the festive season or the excitement in Wynter’s voice, which had always been infectious? Or, just maybe, it was another chance to be with him. I hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation in a long time.

Before I knew it, a knock came at the door. I opened it to find him standing there, looking rugged in a dark green jacket that fit him just right—too right. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and his eyes were bright—relaxed, even. His hair caught the morning light, tousled from the wind. I couldn’t help but take him in. Wynter had always been good-looking, but today… he looked different somehow. At ease.

“Morning, Taran.” He grinned and, before I could respond, pulled me into a hug. The warmth of him, solid and real against the crisp December air, felt like home. I held on a beat longer than I meant to, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine. Every inch of him pressed close, stirring something unexpected—a warmth that was almost too intense for a morning like this.

I pulled away, hoping he hadn’t noticed the quickened pulse or how my dick had begun to plump up.

He only smiled, eyes twinkling as if the holiday spirit had settled in him, too.

“Ready?” His voice was casual, like we hadn’t just shared that moment.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, trying to shake off my body’s reaction to his closeness. “What made you rent a cabin?”

He shrugged as we headed toward his truck, the snow crunching under our boots. “It’s been… nice. A way to clear my head.”

“I get that,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. “But Pinecrest? Feels so… off the grid.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s quiet. Plus, it gives me an excuse to drag you out for some holiday hiking.” He started the truck, casting a sidelong glance my way. “Unless you’re backing out.”

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