Page 46 of Wynter's Second Chance

“Excuse me, sir?” the receptionist called after me.

I spun on my heel, my impatience burning through my skin.

“I just remembered something. I just came from upstairs to take over. The other receptionist—the one who sits here—she said a kid came in a while ago. Said he wanted to see the manager. She asked where his parents were, and he said he’d go get them. He never came back in.”

A knot tightened in my stomach. I’d thought he was here. Now, I was sure of it. But where the hell had he gone?

“Thanks,” I muttered, brushing past her toward the security guard. The cold seemed to freeze everything around me, including my thoughts.

The guard barely looked up as I approached. “A kid. African American. Twelve. Seen him?”

He shrugged. “Kid went out a while ago. Haven’t seen him since.”

Where the hell was Rory now?

I ran a hand through my hair again, tension coiling tight in my chest.

“Want me to call the police?” the guard offered.

I waved him off. “His dad already did that.” My voice felt thick in my throat.

The guard nodded, and I turned on my heel, my mind working a mile a minute.If I were a kid, where would I go?

It was only then that I realized—this wasn’t just about finding Rory anymore, but about finding him before it was too late.

I trudged back to my Ford, the cold biting through my jacket, but I couldn’t stop the racing thoughts. I had checked every teenage hangout spot I remembered, called the places Rory might have gone. But nothing. The snow was starting to fall harder now, small flakes swarming around like tiny ghosts. It was too quiet. Too damn quiet.

I decided to take another route, hoping for something—anything—that would give me a sign. The engine hummed under me, but my mind barely registered the drive. I scanned the roads, the houses. The parking lots. Every crack and crevice I passed seemed to whisper Rory’s name.

And then I saw him.

There. A small figure standing in the distance at a bus stop I knew damn well didn’t have regular service.

My heart lurched in my chest. Relief flooded through me, warm and overwhelming, so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. I pulled the truck over without thinking, slamming the gearshift into park before I was even fully stopped. My boots crunched against the snow as I rushed toward him, calling his name before I even thought about it.

“Rory!”

He turned, his eyes wide, but he didn’t move. His shoulders were hunched, hands shoved deep in his jacket pockets as if trying to make himself smaller. The cold wind whipped around us, but all I could focus on was him, standing there like he’d been waiting for a ride that wasn’t coming.

I reached him in two strides, my hands almost instinctively pulling him into my arms. His body was cold, too cold, and stiff at first, but then he let me hold him, his body finally relaxing, though he’d been out here for far too long. His face was pale, lips chapped from the wind.

My chest tightened, and I pulled him closer, shielding him from the bite of the wind. “Thank God,” I muttered, my voice breaking a little. “You’re okay.” I didn’t even try to hide the relief. It was too much to hold in. “You know how worried your dad’s been, right? He’s losing his mind.”

Rory didn’t answer right away, and when he finally looked up at me, his eyes were heavy with exhaustion and something else—guilt, maybe even regret. “I didn’t mean to scare him—I was going back home.”

His words were soft, quiet. I set him back down gently, but my hands stayed on his shoulders for a moment longer than necessary. The cold was gnawing at us both, and I couldn’t think straight with it biting into my skin like that.

“Let’s get you out of the cold.”

I didn’t give him a chance to respond before I led him toward the truck, keeping a careful eye on him as we moved. He was shaking—whether from the cold or something deeper, I wasn’t sure—but I wasn’t about to let him stay out there a second longer. The air bit at my skin, but all I cared about was getting him inside, where he could warm up.

Once we reached the truck, I opened the door and guided him in. As soon as he was inside, I reached into the back seat, pulling out an old blanket I kept there. I draped it over his shoulders, wrapping him up as much as I could, trying to make sure he felt safe. His body was still tense, but the shaking slowed down a little.

The truck doors slammed shut, and I started the engine. The warmth blasted through the vents so quickly, it almost felt suffocating, but Rory seemed to appreciate it. He was finally starting to relax, though his hands still shook slightly. Whether it was fear or just the cold, I wasn’t sure, but it hurt to see him like this.

I turned the heat higher, watching him out of the corner of my eye. His eyes were distant, staring out the window as if he could erase what had just happened. His fingers pressed against the glass, his breath fogging up the surface.

“Hey,” I said gently, my voice softer now, “you okay?”

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