Page 8 of Wynter's Second Chance

Royce had looked at me then, waiting for a reaction, but I couldn’t give him one. Not when he’d just taken such a huge step, not when he was laying his heart bare. How could I? Howcould I say that I, too, was in love with Taran? That I’d spent years hiding it, too afraid to even admit it to myself?

I wanted to tell him. God, I wanted to tell him. But seeing Royce there, vulnerable and honest, I couldn’t ask Taran to choose between Royce and me, the two people he loved most. It wasn’t fair.

So, I stepped back. I told Royce to go for it, that if he truly loved Taran, he had to. Watching them fall for each other, watching Taran look at him with that light in his eyes—gutted me. But I knew I’d made the right choice. They were perfect for each other.

And me? I was just a shadow in the background, quietly loving someone who would never look at me the way I wanted him to. Never love me the way I loved him. But that was okay. I could live with that. Because sometimes loving someone meant letting them go.

I swallowed hard, forcing the thoughts down where they belonged.

This was ridiculous. Taran was still grieving, still trying to hold his life together for Rory. And me? I was married. Lisa was waiting for me. She deserved my attention, my commitment. My loyalty.

But why did it feel like my chest tightened more the further I got from Taran’s house?

Snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, covering the streets in a fresh blanket of white. I drove past Jesse’s Pub & Grill, the neon lights glowing faintly in the afternoon light, reminding me of too many nights spent in that smoky corner booth with Royce and Taran, laughing until our throats were sore. And Hank’s Auto Repair down the road, where we used to drop by to chat with Hank the owner about cars and life, all of it feeling like a lifetime ago.

The heater in the rental car barely kept the chill at bay, but it wasn’t just the cold outside. It was the weight in my chest, the way my thoughts kept circling back to Taran. How he looked when he opened the door, the way his lips curved into that soft smile that had always knocked the breath out of me, even when I tried to ignore it. I hadn’t seen him in so long, and yet, standing there on his doorstep, it was like no time had passed at all.

Except for the ache. The grief behind his eyes that never seemed to fade.

I swung onto Birch Avenue and a couple minutes later, pulled up in front of the house—Lisa’s and my house—and shut off the engine. The house looked the same. Too perfect, really. It was a large colonial-style home, with white-painted brick and a sprawling porch that wrapped around the front. Lisa’s parents had given it to us as a wedding gift, and it always looked like it belonged in a magazine spread. Tall windows lined the front, each one framed by elegant shutters, and the roof was dusted with a thick layer of snow, adding to its pristine, almost unreal appearance. It was the kind of house people stopped to admire, but it never felt likehome. Like it had been frozen in time, waiting for me to come back and pick up where we left off. But nothing felt right. Not the warm lights glowing from the windows, not the familiar wreath hanging on the front door.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the house, feeling the weight of what I’d just left behind at Taran’s. The door I should’ve walked away from years ago but never fully did.

A sharp gust of wind rattled the windows, and I snapped back to the present. This was ridiculous. I was home now. Lisa was here. And that’s all that mattered.

Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my bag and stepped out into the cold, my boots sinking into the snow as I made my way to the front door. The flakes swirled around me, settling on my shoulders. I had my keys in my pocket, ready to unlock the door,but something made me hesitate. I raised my hand to knock, then hesitated again, my chest tightening for reasons I couldn’t explain. Without fully knowing why, I knocked twice. The sound echoed in the stillness, and I felt my heart thud against my chest.

Seconds ticked by. Footsteps approached, light and familiar. Before I could prepare myself, the door swung open. And there she was.

Lisa.

My beautiful wife.

Or the woman I thought I knew. The surprise that painted her face would almost be laughable if it wasn’t paired with the kind of shock that ripped through me like a bullet.

She squealed, her hand flying to her chest. Champagne-blonde curls framed her slim face, and her hazel eyes—those eyes I used to drown in—were now wide, staring back at me in horror.

We stood there, both frozen. A thick, uncomfortable silence stretched between us, punctuated only by the loud pounding in my chest. It was like time had stopped. My mind refused to work, refused to comprehend what I was looking at.

But my eyes… they knew. They locked onto her midsection, where a reality I wasn’t prepared for sat heavy and undeniable.

Her belly. Hervery pregnantbelly.

What the hell?

I hadn’t been home in almost two years.

My heartbeat roared in my ears. My blood turned cold. I forced my feet to move, stepping inside and letting my bag hit the floor with a dull thud against the steel-gray rug. The house—ourhouse—was just as perfect as I remembered. The landscape painting on the wall, the glass jar overflowing with white roses on the foyer table, all of it screamed familiarity. To anyone else it would feel like home… but to me it was a lie.

I folded my arms over my chest, the fury building like a tidal wave. “Whose baby is it?”

Lisa’s face drained of color as her hand fidgeted with her hair, a nervous habit I knew too well. The delicate features that once stirred desire in me now only disgusted me. She stood there, pregnant with another man’s child, like a living, breathing betrayal.

“I—Wynter, what are you doing here?”

Of course, she was surprised to see me. Thoughts raced in my head. Did she think I wouldn’t come home? That I’d never find out? Was she shacking up with the father of this baby? Was the asshole in our house right now? My ears pricked as I listened for any tiny sound that would betray the presence of her lover, but there was no noise. Either he was smart enough to keep quiet, or else she was alone.

Either way, I wasn’t going to stick around for long.

---