Page 38 of Wynter's Second Chance

I hesitated for half a second before knocking, my knuckles rapping against the wood.

It didn’t take long for the door to open.

And there Wynter stood. Barefooted and tousled, like he’d just rolled out of bed. Flannel pajama pants hung low on his hips, and a snug henley stretched across his chest. The morning light played tricks, catching on the warm tones of his skin and the unruly waves of his hair.

I swallowed hard. Damn, he looked good. Comfortable. At home. The kind of sight that made me want to step closer, to feel the warmth he carried in every inch of him.

“Taran.” His voice was rough, like it hadn’t yet woken up. His eyes searched mine, curious, maybe cautious.

I stepped over the threshold when he moved aside, the cabin smelling faintly of coffee and wood smoke. The warmth inside was immediate, chasing away the chill from the drive. I shrugged off my coat, hanging it by the door, then peeled off my scarf and gloves, setting them on the small bench nearby. The outer chill lingered in my clothes for a moment, but the heat of the cabin was already working its way through. Wynter watched me, quiet but attentive.

I pulled off my boots and left them by the door, my socks brushing against the polished wood floors. The cozy cabin was all glowing light and soft, worn furniture, the kind of space that felt more like a home than just a place to stay. Wynter turned back toward me, his gaze still on mine, and I didn’t let the silence linger.

“You love my boy.”

The words came out steady, measured. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face.

“When Rory asked, ‘What if I don’t want you here?’ you didn’t hesitate. You told him you’d respect his choice, that loving someone means letting them make the choices they need to.”

I stepped closer, closing the small distance between us, my voice lower now. “That’s how I know you love him.”

His breath hitched, just a little, and for a moment, he didn’t move. Then he nodded, slow and deliberate. “Rory is the easiest thing to love.”

There was more in his eyes, though, something pulling at the edges of him, like he was holding back. I waited, not pushing, just… waiting.

He let out a soft breath, his shoulders relaxing like he’d come to a decision. “But it’s not just Rory.” His gaze lifted, meeting mine, raw and unguarded. “I love you, Taran. I’m in love with you. You’re strong, kind, so deeply good… and sexy. God, you’re so sexy.” A self-deprecating laugh escaped him, soft and hesitant. “I’ve been in love with you for longer than I realized. It scared me. Still does. But it’s the truth.”

The room felt smaller, the air heavier with everything he’d just laid bare. My heart kicked hard against my ribs, a rush of warmth flooding through me. I stepped closer, my hands finding their way to his face, thumbs brushing over the sharp line of his cheekbones.

“You don’t have to be scared,” I murmured, my own voice thick with emotion. “I love you too, Wynter. I’ve been trying to hold back, to do what’s right for Rory, but I can’t fight it anymore. I can’t fightyouanymore.”

His eyes widened, then softened, the faintest sheen of unshed tears catching in the light. I didn’t wait any longer. I leaned in, pressing my lips to his.

Wynter’s lips parted under mine, hesitant at first, then surer, like he’d been waiting for this as long as I had. His hands found my waist, fingers curling into the fabric of myshirt, holding on like I might disappear. The kiss deepened, communicating everything I hadn’t said, everything I’d been afraid to feel.

I pulled back just enough to rest my forehead against his, my breath mingling with his in the quiet space between us. His eyesfluttered open, and the emotion there—unfiltered—knocked the air out of me.

“Wynter,” I whispered, his name a promise on my tongue.

His gaze flicked to my lips, then back to my eyes. “I’ve never—” He stopped, his voice catching. “I don’t know if I’ll get this right.”

“You don’t have to know everything.” My hand trailed down to his neck, my thumb brushing the rapid pulse there. “Just trust me.”

He nodded, a faint tremor in the movement. I kissed him again, slower this time, giving him the space to feel, to want, to take. His hands slid up my chest, tracing the planes of muscle like he was memorizing me, and every touch sent a spark through my body.

“Bedroom?” I asked, my voice thick with desire and the weight of everything I felt for him.

He nodded, swallowing hard before taking my hand and leading me down the narrow hall. The cabin’s rustic charm was everywhere, but I barely noticed, my focus locked on him. He pushed open the door to a room bathed in soft light from the windows, the bed neatly made but inviting.

Once inside, I guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. I knelt in front of him, looking up to meet his wide, uncertain gaze.

“Wynter, we go at your pace. You stop me anytime.”

His hands framed my face, his touch featherlight, reverent. “I don’t want to stop. I just—” His voice cracked, and he took a shaky breath. “I want you to know, this is everything to me.”

I kissed his palms, his words settling deep in my chest. “It’s everything to me too.”

When I leaned in again, the kiss was different—more confident. His hands threaded through my hair, pulling me closer, and I followed, easing him back onto the bed. Themattress dipped under our weight as I settled over him, his body warm and pliant beneath mine.

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