Page 2 of Wynter's Second Chance

His compliment felt both unexpected and reassuring. “Thank you,” I replied, managing a laugh, though it didn’t entirely mask my self-consciousness. “When did you get back? How long are you staying?”

The question of his duration lingered unanswered, a remnant of the unspoken rules from when Royce was alive. I had learned not to press for specifics, respecting the fleeting nature of his visits, but the curiosity remained.

Wynter’s smile flickered, a brief flash that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I retired,” he said, his voice carrying an undertone of unresolved matters. “Got some… things to work on.”

I told myself not to ask any questions. I couldn’t. Not with my history. “That’s great, Wyn. Welcome back.” Where had he been posted? Iraq? Afghanistan? I didn’t know. I suddenly remembered my cupcakes. “Come on into the kitchen. I was just doing some baking.”

While I led Wynter into the room, memories flooded in. Of him with Royce, of all of us together. Our picnic trips together, a road trip we went on before Wynter got married to Lisa. The three of us were best friends, so Wynter understood my pain when Royce was stolen from me. He missed Royce terribly afterhis death and spent a lot of time at our house, hanging out, helping me with chores or just sitting there, letting me know he was around and available whenever I needed him. I appreciated his concern, even relied on him in those early days to get me through, but then he had to go back to duty—and I learned to make do without any support.

Now that he was back, I wondered what our relationship would be like. It wasn’t a vacation for him. He’d be here for good. Then, like all the others, he would get busy with whatever his job would be—and with Lisa. I would hardly see him. The thought of losing him to the everyday grind of life sent a lance of pain straight through my heart, but I quickly pushed it aside.

Five years had passed since Royce died. I’d worked hard to keep my life together, to raise Rory on my own, to create something stable for us. I couldn’t afford to get too close, not like before. Royce was gone, and that part of my life was over. I had to keep going the way I had been, focusing on Rory, the bakery, and the life I’d managed to piece together. It was safer that way. Wynter belonged with Lisa, and I had to remember that. Whatever closeness we once had, it had to stay in the past. There was no place for it in the life I was building now, not without Royce.

Wynter stepped into the kitchen, his gaze immediately taking in Rory and the array of baked goods.

Rory looked up from his task at the counter with wary curiosity. His posture stiffened as he noticed Wynter.

I cleared my throat, trying to bridge the gap. “Rory, you may not remember him, but this is Wynter. He’s an old friend of mine.” I glanced at Wynter, who was observing Rory with warmth in his expression. “Wynter, you remember my son, don’t you?”

He offered a smile, though his eyes lingered on Rory with a searching quality. “Of course, I do. He’s all grown up.”

Rory shifted slightly, a hint of shyness in his demeanor as he fidgeted with the edge of the counter. “Yeah, I guess,” he replied, his gaze darting away from Wynter.

I couldn’t help but smile at my son, a few crumbs clinging to the corner of his lips. “He’s twelve now.” I playfully nudged him with my elbow, earning a playful swat from him. “Pretty soon, I’ll have a teenager on my hands.”

Rory’s grin flickered as his fingers traced the edge of the counter. “Dad says I’ll be baking full-time by then.” There was a touch of pride in his voice, though his gaze was guarded and unsure when it briefly darted toward Wynter.

“Only if you stop burning the cookies,” I joked, hoping to ease the tension. He laughed, but it was subdued, and I couldn’t miss how his eyes kept drifting back to Wynter, sizing him up with a quiet wariness.

Wynter’s smile softened as he watched the interaction, but the tension in the room was palpable. Rory’s shoulders remained stiff, and he seemed uncomfortable with Wynter’s presence—a man who, despite his familiarity to me, was almost a stranger to Rory. Seven the last time they met, Rory’s memories of Wynter would be little more than a blur.

“So, you’re the famous baker now, huh?” Wynter said, attempting to engage Rory. But Rory merely nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor.

Sensing the need to step in, I cleared my throat. “Rory, why don’t you finish up with the batter? We’ve got a lot to do before I leave for my appointment.”

“Okay, Dad.” Rory resumed mixing the batter, focusing on his task with an intensity that was unusual for him.

Wynter shot me a questioning look, but I just gave a small shake of my head. There was no need to force anything. Rory would come around when he was ready, but for now, it was clear he wasn’t thrilled about Wynter being here.

“Is it okay if I stick around for a bit?” Wynter asked, his voice low as he leaned closer to me.

“Of course,” I said, but the words felt heavier than they should have. I wasn’t sure if it was the right thing, letting Wynter stay, but I couldn’t turn him away. Not after everything.

Wynter moved to the other side of the kitchen, keeping a respectful distance from Rory, who was engrossed in his task. I could still feel the unspoken tension in the room.

Rory suddenly looked up, his eyes narrowing slightly as he addressed Wynter. “You knew Papa, my second father, right?”

The question hung in the air, sharp and direct, and I felt a pang in my chest. Rory had never called Royce his “second father” before, and I knew this was his way of testing the waters, trying to figure out where Wynter fit into our lives.

Wynter’s expression softened even more, and he took a step closer, but not too close. “Yeah, Rory. I knew Royce really well. We were best friends.”

Rory nodded, but his gaze remained skeptical. “So, how come you haven’t been around till now?”

The question was blunt, and I could see it caught Wynter off guard. I opened my mouth to intervene, but Wynter raised a hand slightly, signaling that he could handle it.

“I wanted to, Rory,” Wynter said quietly, “but sometimes life takes you places you don’t expect. I’m here now, though, and I’m hoping we can all get to know each other again.”

Rory’s eyes flicked to me, and I gave him a reassuring nod. He shrugged, clearly not fully convinced, but he didn’t press further. “I guess,” he muttered, turning back to the batter.

---