Page 34 of Wynter's Second Chance

I watched him closely, hoping my words would land, but I could see the confusion on his face. “I know this is difficult, but I promise, you’ll always be my top priority.. Nothing will ever change that.”

Rory’s voice trembled when he spoke, thick with emotion. “I don’t get it. How can you still love Papa and then... have someone else?” I could feel him grappling with the weight of it all. His eyes flickered up at me, full of questions. “You say I’m enough, but if you have him…” His throat tightened. “Then what does that make me? Extra?”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest, stealing my breath. I staggered for a moment, my lungs straining as if the air had thickened around me. I had to force myself to take a slow, steadying breath.

I took a step toward him, my movements deliberate, even as my legs felt unsteady beneath me. I wanted to say something—anything—to make it all better, but I knew there were no easy fixes for the wound I’d unintentionally opened.

I crouched down in front of him, meeting his eyes. “Rory,” I said quietly, “you are everything to me. Always. This doesn’tchange that.” My body vibrated with the need to wrap my arms around my dear, dear boy, but I didn’t want to push him away. “You’re not... extra. You’re my son. Nothing will ever take that away. Not Wynter, not anyone.”

Rory's gaze softened just a fraction, his lip trembling as he swallowed hard. But he didn’t speak. I could see his mind working, trying to sort through the chaos inside. And I realized, maybe that was all I could do for him right now—be here. Let him take his time.

“Rory…” My voice cracked. “You don’t have to understand everything right now. I just need you to know one thing, and that’s that I love you. Always.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment. And maybe he couldn’t yet. But the way his eyes searched mine… it told me that he was starting to believe me. I could feel the weight in my chest lifting, just a little, as I held his gaze. Maybe this wasn’t going to be easy. But we would figure it out. Together.

"Are we still a family?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “We are. And we always will be.” My hand reached for his, though I didn’t force it, just waiting for him to decide if he would take it. “You and me, Rory. We’re in this together.”

He looked at my hand, but hesitated. The seconds stretched, each one filled with the silent plea in my heart. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he reached out. His fingers, tentative at first, slid into mine, and the warmth of his touch sent a wave of relief crashing over me.

It wasn’t just the physical contact—it was what it meant. The tiny, deliberate gesture of trust. His grip was uncertain, but it held a comfort I hadn’t realized I needed so badly. That connection, fragile yet undeniable, was the first sign of a bridge being built between us.

The ache in my chest softened, just a little, as hope flickered to life. Things weren’t fixed. They wouldn’t be overnight. But in that moment, with his hand in mine, I knew we were on our way to mending the pieces. Together. Piece by piece.

CHAPTER 17

WYNTER

I spent the whole night thinking about Taran and Rory, about the way Rory’s anger burned and the way Taran’s guilt weighed on him. I’d hoped—foolishly—that Taran might have called or texted to say how things were, but the silence stretched on. I couldn’t blame him though. He’d made his priorities clear, and rightly so. And maybe that meant there wasn’t room for me in their lives.

The expression on Rory’s face almost killed me, the way he looked at Taran like he was fighting to hold onto something slipping away. I’d been there before, feeling like I didn’t matter enough to someone.

Still, I couldn’t sit here doing nothing.

Following a restless night, I woke up to the stillness of Pinecrest. It felt heavier than usual, like the quiet was holding its breath, waiting for something to break. I spent the morning doing my routines, hoping that Taran would contact me. The minutes and then hours passed by, but still nothing, just silence. In the evening, I sat on the edge of the bed wondering what I should do to fix things. I couldn’t not say or do something if it would make things right again.

That’s when an idea came to me… and I wanted… no, needed to act on it.

I rummaged through a box of items I’d brought back with me. Over the years, I’d amassed a small collection of Royce’s things, which included a Denver Nuggets cap—I was sure he was looking down at the team when they finally won their first NBA championship. There was a photo of him and Taran. I ran my fingers over the worn edge of the photo, Royce’s wide grin staring back at me, Taran’s arm slung around his shoulder. They looked happy. Untouchable. And then there was a little carved deer, along with an assortment of other animals he’d carved himself, that he’d brought back from one of his deployments. I often wondered why the man loved the animal so much. Royce mentioned it was because of how majestic it was. But since his passing, I’d come to believe that the man loved the animal because it reflected his own nature, his gentleness.

The collection wasn’t much, but they were pieces of him. Pieces that might help Rory see that no one was trying to erase his papa from their lives.

Before I could second-guess myself, I grabbed the box and headed to my Ford.

I drove on autopilot to Taran’s house. My knuckles tightened on the steering wheel as I pulled into the driveway, the weight of uncertainty settling heavy in my chest. What if he didn’t want to see me? What if Rory didn’t want to have anything to do with me? I mentally shook myself out of the negative thoughts. This wasn’t about me—it was about them.

I stepped out, the box tucked under one arm. The cold bit at my skin, sharp and unforgiving, but it grounded me. It was better than the hollow ache of doubt.

I knocked on the door. Taran opened it, surprise flickering across his face. “Wynter,” he said, his voice guarded but not cold.

“I know this might not be the right time,” I began, holding up the box. “But I had an idea—something I thought might help Rory. And maybe you, too.”

He hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “Rory’s in the living room.”

“Then maybe we could all do this together?”

Taran nodded and he stepped aside.

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