Page 7 of Wynter's Second Chance

“Thanks, Nancy,” I said, swallowing the knot in my throat. “Sorry for the delay.”

“No problem at all,” she said, patting Rory’s shoulder. “He’s a good kid.”

Rory ran to my side, beaming. The sight of him—so full of hope—made the weight in my chest feel heavier. He opened the car door and climbed in, eyes bright with expectation.

“Did you get the loan, Dad?” His voice was hopeful, too hopeful.

I shook my head, unable to hide the disappointment. “No. They need assets to back it up.”

Rory’s face fell for a second, but he quickly masked it with a smile. “We’ll get it next time, right?”

I forced a nod. “Yeah, we will.”

But could we? Doubt gnawed at the edges of my mind. I’d put everything into this plan, hoping it would be our way out, our chance at a better life. But now… what? Was it foolish to believe things could change? My stomach twisted at the thought. Maybe it was. Maybe I was chasing a dream that was never meant for me.

“Dad, you can do it,” Rory said quietly, his voice full of faith.

My throat tightened. I wished I could share his certainty. I wanted to be the dad who could give him the world, who could make everything right. But right now, I wasn’t sure I could.

By the time we got home, the business plan felt like dead weight in my hand. Useless. Without a second thought, I tossed it in the trash. What was the point? I didn’t have what it took to make this work. Maybe I never did. It wasn’t just about the loan—it was everything. Royce. The bakery. Rory. Every single thing I tried to build seemed to crumble, no matter how hard I fought.

I closed my eyes, letting the exhaustion settle in. Maybe I didn’t deserve a fresh start. Maybe this was my punishment for not being there for Royce when he needed me most. If I’d triedharder, if I’d done more, maybe he’d still be here. But I hadn’t. I’d failed him, and now, I was failing Rory, too.

The memories of Royce came flooding back—his haunted eyes, the weight he carried after coming home from the army. I should have done more for him. I should have helped him shoulder that burden. And now, without him, everything felt broken, incomplete.

Rory’s soft voice broke through my thoughts. “Dad… it’s gonna be okay, right?”

I turned to him, heart aching. His faith in me was unwavering, and that hurt the most. I couldn’t let him down. I wouldn’t. I had to keep fighting, even if it felt like the world was stacked against me. I pulled him close, my hand resting on his head.

“Yeah, kiddo,” I whispered. “It’s gonna be okay.”

CHAPTER 3

WYNTER

The car’s tires crunched over the snow as I drove through Aspen Ridge. Twenty-one months away hadn’t changed the place. It was still as picturesque as I remembered, the kind of town that felt suspended in time, where everyone knew everyone, and news traveled faster than the wind whipping down from the mountains. The streets were lined with snowbanks, untouched save for a few tire tracks and footprints.

As I passed Mabel’s Sweet Treats, I slowed the car. Taran had mentioned he still worked there, even after everything. I hadn’t asked much more than that—just hearing him say it had pulled at something in my chest. The little bakery, with its frosted windows and wreath on the door, looked the same as it always had. Cozy. Inviting. It was the kind of place you’d go with friends to share coffee and pastries, the smell of sugar and cinnamon clinging to your clothes long after you’d left.

I could still picture the three of us, three best friends—Royce, Taran, and me—sitting at the counter, laughing about something stupid. That was before… everything. Before Royce and Taran became a “them.” Before I stepped aside and buried whatever I thought I felt for Taran under layers of friendship and loyalty.But now? Now it felt like all those layers were being pulled back, one by one.

But seeing Taran now? It was like stepping back in time, a jolt to the chest that I wasn’t prepared for. The way he opened that door—effortless, like nothing had changed, like I hadn’t been gone for almost two years. Clean-shaven, his face still had that youthful, almost innocent look, framed by that windswept mess of sandy-blond hair that looked like he’d run his hand through it a dozen times just to make it fall like that. He was lean, still wiry, but there was muscle under it—a kind of strength that didn’t scream for attention. He didn’t need to. The way he carried himself, it was quiet, like he didn’t have to prove anything.

But underneath that softness, there was always something tougher. Something I knew wasn’t easily broken. His blue eyes still held that warmth, the kind that could make you forget how harsh the world was for a second. It was like stepping back in time, only now, Royce wasn’t there. It was just me standing in front of him, wanting things I had no right to want. But there was something different now, something dimmed in those eyes. The spark was still there, but it had been buried under grief. You could see it, if you knew where to look.

I’d always admired how he didn’t try too hard to be something he wasn’t, never putting on airs. But this? This was different. This wasn’t just the Taran I’d known. This was a man who had carried more than his fair share of weight these last five years. And damn if that didn’t hit harder than anything I’d faced on the front lines.

What had I even said to him? Something about cupcakes? God, it was awkward, like I couldn’t find the words. Like I didn’t know who I was anymore.

I clenched the steering wheel, the cold leather biting into my skin through my gloves.

I shouldn’t have gone to Taran’s place. What was I even thinking, showing up like that after five years? It wasn’t normal. But then again, nothing about the last five years had been normal for any of us. I told myself it was to check on him, to see how he and Rory were doing, but deep down, I knew it was more than that.

I remembered the first time I realized it wasn’t just girls who had my attention. Fourteen years old, and I had this… confusion. That’s when it started—realizing I wasn’t only crushing on girls, but boys too. I tried to ignore it, tried to shove it away, tell myself it was just a phase. It didn’t make sense, not in the world I grew up in.

And then came the night I realized—really realized—that I was attracted to my best friend, Taran. Eighteen, standing there beside him as I always had, and suddenly, everything about him—the way he laughed, the way his eyes lit up—hit me like a freight train. I could barely breathe when I saw him—when I really saw him—and my world shifted on its axis. But I shoved that down too. I’d enlisted to be a soldier. I had a duty. I couldn't be that guy.

And then at twenty-four, it hit me all over again, but this time it wasn’t something I could ignore. That was the night I’d finally worked up the courage to tell Taran the truth, about everything. About how I felt. I’d thought maybe he felt it too, maybe we could finally talk about it. But before I could open my mouth, Royce—goddamn him—beat me to it. He told me, right then, that he’d always been gay but had never been able to admit it. Not because of me, not because of Taran, but because of his homophobic family. Then, like it wasn’t enough, he dropped the bomb. He was in love with Taran.

---