11. Taran

CHAPTER 11

TARAN

The house felt strangely empty after Rory left with Nancy and Matthew. I watched them pull out of the driveway, Rory waving through the window, his excitement for basketball camp nearly contagious. A part of me missed him already, even if it was just a day camp. I stood by the window, hands shoved into my hoodie pockets, staring out at the quiet street. It wasn’t just the silence—it was the absence of routine, of laughter, of Rory’s footsteps running down the stairs.

The sudden buzz of my phone broke through the stillness.

Wyn.

A smile found its way to my face as I sat on the couch and answered the call. “Hi.”

“Hey, Taran.” Wynter’s voice was warm, and I could almost hear the smile in it. “Are you free to hang out today?”

“What do you have in mind?”

“Come up to Pinecrest Cabins,” he said, a hint of mischief sneaking into his voice. “We can go for a hike.”

“All the way up there?”

“I’ve been renting a cabin since the split. Meant to mention it, just... slipped my mind.”

I straightened up, caught off guard. “Wait—you’ve been staying up in Pinecrest this whole time?”

“I know, I know, I know,” he said, a touch of sheepishness in his tone. “It’s been kind of a whirlwind.”

I leaned back against the cushions, surprised, but mostly curious. “I totally understand.”

Wyn offered to pick me up, and of course, I agreed, even though something in my stomach flipped. Could it be because of the festive season or the excitement in Wynter’s voice, which had always been infectious? Or, just maybe, it was another chance to be with him. I hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation in a long time.

Before I knew it, a knock came at the door. I opened it to find him standing there, looking rugged in a dark green jacket that fit him just right—too right. His cheeks were flushed pink from the cold, and his eyes were bright—relaxed, even. His hair caught the morning light, tousled from the wind. I couldn’t help but take him in. Wynter had always been good-looking, but today… he looked different somehow. At ease.

“Morning, Taran.” He grinned and, before I could respond, pulled me into a hug. The warmth of him, solid and real against the crisp December air, felt like home. I held on a beat longer than I meant to, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest against mine. Every inch of him pressed close, stirring something unexpected—a warmth that was almost too intense for a morning like this.

I pulled away, hoping he hadn’t noticed the quickened pulse or how my dick had begun to plump up.

He only smiled, eyes twinkling as if the holiday spirit had settled in him, too.

“Ready?” His voice was casual, like we hadn’t just shared that moment.

“Yeah.” I cleared my throat, trying to shake off my body’s reaction to his closeness. “What made you rent a cabin?”

He shrugged as we headed toward his truck, the snow crunching under our boots. “It’s been… nice. A way to clear my head.”

“I get that,” I said, sliding into the passenger seat. “But Pinecrest? Feels so… off the grid.”

“That’s the beauty of it,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s quiet. Plus, it gives me an excuse to drag you out for some holiday hiking.” He started the truck, casting a sidelong glance my way. “Unless you’re backing out.”

I laughed. “Not a chance.”

The drive up was filled with easy conversation, mostly about Rory’s camp, but soon it shifted to Wynter's stories of holiday traditions he’d missed during his two decades in the army.

“Christmas isn’t really Christmas without the lights, the caroling, and the movie marathons,” he said, his voice softening, a wistful look on his face.

“Kids live for that stuff,” I said, half-grinning. “Even the year before Royce passed, Rory had me playing Christmas music all day long. Swore it made the cookies taste better. And when I introduced him to Home Alone , he watched that and the sequels nonstop.”

Wynter chuckled. “Smart kid. Got you wrapped around his finger, huh?”

“Maybe a little.” I shrugged, feeling a twinge of warmth at the thought. “Honestly, this is the first time Christmas feels like… well, like something again. Rory and I have you to thank for that.”

He looked over at me, his eyes warm. “Funny thing is, I thought this Christmas would be miserable after the split with Lisa. But you and Rory? You’ve made it feel… like a real holiday again.”

I gave him a sidelong look. “You know, for a guy who used to pretend he hated all things festive, you’re getting suspiciously into it.”

“What can I say? Maybe it’s the company.” He flashed me a quick smile before turning his attention back to the road, leaving a charged silence in the air between us.

By the time we reached Pinecrest, the cabin was dusted with fresh snow, a picture-perfect postcard of winter. Wynter turned off the engine and turned to me. “Alright, let’s gear up.”

He reached behind his seat and pulled out a backpack. “Bill and Edie insisted on a few essentials.”

“Are they all-in on the winter wonderland theme?”

“Pretty much. Told them you’d be the judge of their cider recipe.”

“Sounds like a challenge,” I said, giving him a grin as we strapped on the snowshoes he’d brought along.

The world around us was perfectly quiet as we set off, with only the crunch of snow underfoot. Cold air filled my lungs, waking me up more than a dozen cups of coffee ever could. Wynter stayed close, our shoulders brushing every so often, each touch lighting up a spark I tried hard to ignore. I’d known him half my life; I couldn’t start feeling things like this now.

We hiked up a small slope, the stillness wrapping around us like a blanket. But the peace was interrupted when Wynter tripped over a snow-covered branch, stumbling forward and then laughing at himself. It was a sound that echoed off the trees, making me grin before I even realized it.

“Not bad, Wyn. Maybe there’s an outdoorsman in you somewhere after all,” I teased, extending my hand and helping him up.

Wynter grinned, eyes flashing with that mischievous glint. “Careful there, Taran. Keep that up, and I’ll have to defend my honor… with a snowball fight.”

“Oh, you think you can take me?” I scoffed, already bending down and scooping up a handful of snow. Before he could react, I packed it tight and let it fly.

Thud! The snowball landed square on his shoulder, and he staggered back, momentarily stunned. “Oh, you’re gonna regret that,” he warned, grinning as he quickly dropped into a crouch and launched his own snowball my way.

I dodged, laughing as the snow sailed past me. “Too slow, Wyn!”

“Argh! We’ll see about that!” He fired off another one, which hit my arm, sending a burst of icy powder flying.

What followed was an all-out assault. The snowshoes made running awkward, but we managed, half-stumbling as we ducked and darted between trees. Each step was a clumsy dance in the snow, but that only made it more hilarious. I nearly toppled over once, barely catching myself before I could dive headfirst into a snowbank. Snow flying from his arms as he launched another snowball, Wynter was laughing so hard he could barely aim straight.

We shouted and goaded each other, breath puffing out in visible clouds against the crisp winter air. Our voices echoed through the trees as snow splattered off branches and trunks, each snowball landing with a satisfying thud or—when one of us actually hit the other—a triumphant shout.

“You’re not getting away with this!” he called, his voice carrying over the crunch of snow.

“Oh yeah?” I taunted, narrowly missing him as I lobbed another. “You’re all talk, Wynter!”

“Am I?” He bent down, scooping up a fresh batch and winding up with exaggerated, playful menace. “Watch out!”

I dodged again, this time tripping over a hidden branch and going down hard into the snow. Before I could get back up, he was on me, snowball in hand, and I threw up my arms, laughing uncontrollably. “Okay, okay, truce! I surrender!”

He smirked, hovering over me as I lay half-buried in snow. “Truce, huh?” he said, his breath visible in the cold air. “Guess that means I win.”

I scrambled up, both of us panting, covered in snow from head to toe. We shared a look, laughter fading into something quieter, a tension settling between us that hadn’t been there before.

We were standing so close, just inches apart. The playful laughter had given way to silence, the snowy world around us fading into the background. His eyes searched mine and I felt the pulse of something more—something I’d been telling myself couldn’t possibly be real.

Then, he dipped his head, gaze flicking to my mouth for just a second, and my pulse leapt. The air between us felt charged, and I had the sudden urge to close the small space left between us, to feel that warmth that radiated from him in a way that had nothing to do with friendship.

With a shake of his head, as if trying to break the spell between us, Wynter reached back to his pack, pulling out a thermos and two cups. He slipped off his gloves, then poured the cider carefully, steam curling up between us in the cold. When he held a cup out to me, I took off my gloves too, feeling the bite of the winter air. As I reached for the cup, his bare fingers brushed mine, his touch warm and rough against my skin. His fingers lingered, eyes meeting mine with a look that sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with the cold.

The cider’s steam rose between us, and I forced myself to look away, taking a slow sip to calm the heat spreading through me. “This… it’s perfect. Tell Bill and Edie I’ll need the recipe.”

“Yeah? Figured you’d like it,” he murmured, as he took a sip of his own.

When I looked up, he was watching me, something warm and intent in his gaze. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d looked at me like that. Or maybe he never had, and I’d just wanted him to.

My pulse picked up, my breath coming faster than the snowball fight alone could explain. For a second, it felt like the rest of the world had melted away, leaving us in this small circle of warmth and snow. His gaze flicked to my mouth, lingering for the briefest heartbeat before he looked back up at me. My pulse pounded and I felt my throat tighten, the tension between us thickening with each second.

Was he…? No, he couldn’t be. I’d known Wynter for more than half my life; if he was anything but straight, I would’ve noticed. Right? But in that moment, he felt like someone I didn’t quite know, someone whose intentions were unreadable and yet so enticing, drawing me closer to him by an invisible thread.

I leaned in, just a fraction, and the warmth in his gaze held steady, the edges of his mouth softening, his eyes drifting to my lips again. The space between us felt almost unbearably small, yet still too wide. I wanted to close it, to find out if the way he looked at me now meant what I thought it did.

The brush of his breath was warm on my face as he opened his mouth slightly, and I felt the faint pull of his aura on mine.

Just as I gathered the courage to close the remaining distance, he pulled back, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Come on,” he said, motioning toward the path. “We should probably head back before we turn into snowmen out here.”

His tone was light, almost casual, but the faint pink in his cheeks gave him away.

“Right.” I nodded, swallowing hard as I tried to mentally steady myself. The air felt colder suddenly, sharper, the moment slipping away too quickly, leaving me in a daze. I followed him, trying to get my head around the fact that something had almost happened—if it really had.