13. Taran

CHAPTER 13

TARAN

I can’t believe he kissed me!

Wynter. Kissed. Me.

And I can still taste sweet chocolate on his suckable lips. Feel the warm breath on my cheek.

Being that close, breathing him in, was fucking incredible.

Man, kissing him was amazing!

It felt like I’d waited my whole life for that kiss. That off-limits boy with the broad shoulders and killer smile. I never thought it would have been more than a dream. That kiss felt real in a way nothing had since…

And just like that, every single wall I’d put up around this—around him—came crashing down. I’d thought those feelings were buried, impossible to resurrect. But there he was, the first boy I’d ever fallen for, the boy I thought I could never have. And now, somehow, he was looking at me like he might have been waiting, too.

But right there, in the middle of Mabel’s, it hadn’t been the time or place to talk. It had taken everything in me to keep working, to focus on the orders that still needed finishing, the tables that needed cleaning, when my mind was spinning. I’d caught his eye one last time as he left, and in that look, we shared a silent promise. Later. We’d talk, and everything we couldn’t say in the bakery would have its moment.

And now here we were, Wynter, Rory and I, crunching through the snow on our way to pick the perfect Christmas tree, breathing in the scent of pine and fresh air, and all I could think about was how right it felt to be by his side. Rory darted ahead, weaving between the snow-dusted trees, tossing out his thoughts on each one without pausing for a response.

I could still feel the ghost of Wynter’s kiss, and every brush of his arm felt like a whisper of that memory, a memory I wasn’t ready to let go of. And I wondered how much longer I’d have to wait before we found a chance to talk, to share what had changed between us.

God, I can’t stop thinking about him.

Wynter met my eyes and we both smiled, quietly entertained by Rory’s running commentary. “Do you think he’s gonna find the perfect one?” he asked, keeping his voice low, as if we were sharing a secret.

“If I know him, he’ll change his mind at least a dozen more times,” I chuckled, leaning in just slightly.

"How about this one?" my son yelled, pointing to a tall, skinny fir. “It’s kinda lopsided… but it’s cool-looking!”

Rory was already ten paces ahead.

Smiling, I murmured, “Every year, he grows faster than the trees do. Can hardly keep up with him.”

Wynter chuckled softly, glancing at Rory as he bounded ahead. The easy joy of the moment seemed to settle around us like the quiet snow, reminding us both of how close Christmas really was.

“So,” he said, his voice almost hesitant, “what do you think Christmas’ll be like this year?”

I looked down, scuffing at the snow, thinking. “Different,” I admitted. “Maybe even good-different. But…” I hesitated, then added, “it hasn’t felt that way in a long time. Rory hasn’t been this excited about Christmas since the one before Royce passed.”

Wynter nodded, understanding without needing anything more. “Maybe different can be just what we need. Start fresh with people who… get it.” He trailed off, his words hovering between us.

Rory was already zigzagging over to a thick, shorter pine, the other “lopsided” fir already forgotten. “What about this one? It’s short. But maybe it’s cozy? You know, like, uh... compact.”

Wynter and I shared another glance, both of us stifling laughs as Rory went on critiquing. “I can’t decide if he wants a tree or a mascot,” I said, leaning a little closer to Wynter, enough to feel his warmth against the cold.

Wynter’s gaze softened, his eyes crinkling just a bit. “I love watching him like this. Pure joy in every step.”

Just then, Rory dashed off to help one of the workers struggling to balance a tree on a sled. “Dad, Wynter, I’m gonna go help!”

Wynter chuckled softly, and I could hear pride in his voice. “That kid has enough energy to power the whole town.”

We both laughed, sharing a warm look, but Wynter’s gaze lingered on mine, his smile fading just a bit, replaced with something more thoughtful.

After a pause, he spoke, his tone quieter. “What do you want for Christmas this year?”

I swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. “Maybe I already have it.” The words slipped out before I could think twice, my heart racing as his expression shifted—maybe a little surprised, maybe uncertain, but definitely something more too. Had I said too much? I searched his face, holding my breath, hoping I hadn’t crossed a line.

He glanced at Rory before his gaze returned to me, warmer, almost protective. “It feels right being here with you, Taran.” His words were quiet but clear. “After everything… it feels… it feels like maybe we can start something?”

Before I could respond, Rory charged over, breath puffing out in bursts, pointing to a tree with a proud grin. “Look at this one! It’s perfect!”

Wynter and I turned to inspect Rory’s choice. We both leaned down with exaggerated seriousness to examine the pine he’d picked. It had a sturdy trunk and thick branches, just wide enough to fill our living room corner without taking over.

“You know, it does have a certain… majestic quality to it,” Wynter said, glancing at me with a glint of humor.

I nodded, matching his tone. “Fine, Rory,” I said, as if I’d been debating the matter deeply. “You’ve convinced us. This is the one.”

Rory beamed, practically vibrating with excitement as Wynter grabbed the saw from the tree farm’s gear rack. “Stand back, buddy,” Wynter said to Rory, who nodded with wide eyes, stepping back to give him room.

I knelt beside Wynter, gripping the trunk firmly to keep it steady as he worked the saw through the base. The sharp scrape of metal on wood filled the quiet air. Every now and then, our eyes would meet, a shared smile passing between us. After a few more cuts, the tree gave way, and Wynter guided it down carefully to avoid snapping any branches.

“All right, kiddo,” I called. “Help us carry it to the tree shaker?”

Rory’s face lit up, and he immediately reached for a branch with both hands.

“Whoa, maybe not by the branches,” Wynter chuckled, shifting Rory’s grip to the trunk instead. “Don’t want to mess up our masterpiece.”

Rory nodded, adjusting his hold. Once we had a solid grip on the trunk, we carried it over to the shaking machine. The sound of branches rattling as the machine shook loose the needles was satisfying. The tree swayed back and forth, shedding the excess debris before the shaking stopped.

“Looks good. Now for the binding,” Wynter said, moving to grab the netting.

He expertly wrapped the tree in the netting, pulling it tight to keep the branches from sprawling out. Once it was secure, he gave it a few test shakes, making sure everything was bound properly.

“All ready,” Wynter said with a satisfied smile. “Let’s get it on the truck.”

With a few more grunts of effort, we carefully maneuvered the tree to the truck bed. Rory buzzed around us like a coach on the sidelines, offering his own tips. We both laughed as Wynter tightened the cords around the tree, then I caught him watching me. His gaze held a warmth that stirred something deep in me, steady and open, like he was seeing more than just this simple outing. For a second, everything else seemed to fall away—Rory’s chatter faded into the background, leaving just us, wrapped in this unguarded quiet between the laughter and the work.

A strange ache settled in my chest, unexpected but welcome, the kind of feeling you want to hold onto without fully understanding why. Moments like this didn’t come around often, at least, not for me. But this one felt like it might last, finding its way into the memories I’d keep close.

"Looks secure to me," Rory said, breaking the spell.

Back home, Rory was in his own world, sorting through his ornaments like treasures. “This one has to go on the highest branch!” he announced, holding up a tiny Santa with a chipped hat.

Wynter and I started stringing the lights, moving around each other in a quiet rhythm. The warmth of the room, combined with the glow of the tree and Rory’s happy hums, made everything feel… right.

Wynter’s shoulder brushed against mine as he adjusted a strand. “You know,” he said, his voice soft, “I was just thinking how long we’ve known each other. Feels like lifetimes, doesn’t it?”

A familiar pang rose in my chest. “Sometimes like lifetimes. And sometimes like we met just yesterday.” I paused, memories flashing back to those years in high school when we’d just met, and then to several years later after the accident when my world had turned upside down. “I was barely holding it together then, Wyn. Losing my parents, my sister... Those days, I was barely getting out of bed, barely eating.”

He nodded, his gaze steady. “I remember. That’s why I pushed you to volunteer at the community center. I thought… maybe if you could give a piece of yourself, you’d find some of yourself again.”

I managed a small smile, glancing over at Rory, who was intensely focused on untangling some tinsel. “You were right. If it wasn’t for you, I’d never have met that little guy over there.” My voice softened as I watched him. “He was so quiet, so lost. Something in him just… called to me.”

Wynter’s eyes held mine, a warm look that seemed to reach right through me. “I knew you’d be perfect for him. You and Royce both. Remember how unsure you were about fostering and then adopting him?”

I chuckled, shaking my head. “That’s putting it lightly. I was scared out of my mind. Two gay guys, raising an African American boy? I wasn’t sure we’d even get approved, let alone if we’d be the right fit. But you—you told me to go for it. And, somehow, we did.”

Wynter’s hand brushed mine briefly as he looped another light on a branch. “You two were exactly what he needed. You still are.”

A warmth I hadn’t expected flooded through me, and for a moment, we just looked at each other. Rory’s delighted exclamation of, “Dad, look! It’s perfect!” brought us back to the moment, and Wynter chuckled as Rory hurried over to show off a garland he’d wrapped around his shoulders like a scarf.

As Rory went back to his task, Wynter’s expression softened. “I should have been there more for Royce. Being overseas when it happened… it tore me up inside. I kept thinking, if I’d been there, maybe I would’ve noticed something. Maybe I’d have seen what?—”

“Hey.” I cut him off gently. “You think I don’t feel that too?” I put a hand on his arm, gave a gentle squeeze. “I lived with him, Wyn. And I didn’t see it.” My voice softened. “Grief and guilt… they’re brutal companions.”

Wynter looked down, his jaw tight, then met my gaze with something unguarded. “You’ve always been a bright spot for me, Taran. Even when I couldn’t be there, I thought of you. Of how much you meant to me.” He seemed to be searching for the right words. His gaze held mine. “Even back when we were kids. There was this… shift.”

I looked at him, questions building up, but he went on before I could speak.

“I was fourteen when I started realizing that it wasn’t just girls who caught my attention. Then by eighteen… I couldn’t ignore it. I couldn’t ignore… you.” He glanced away, almost embarrassed. “But it was easier to bury it back then. Especially when Royce came out to me. I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, not when he was finally taking that step.”

His words hit deep, revealing a part of our past I’d never known. He looked up at me, his gaze raw. “Seeing you again like this… it brings back everything I tried to push down.”

Rory bounded over, pulling us both toward the tree. “Come on, help me put these ornaments higher up!”

We both moved closer, hanging ornaments in the spots Rory pointed to, and Wynter leaned toward me, his voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe we’ve been given a second chance. If… if you want it.”

My heart thudded, and I looked into his eyes, feeling the weight of all those years. “Maybe we have,” I murmured, smiling as Rory clapped his hands in approval at his handiwork.

The tree glowed, casting a warm light over us all, and in that moment, it felt like coming home.

“Dad, look!” Rory held up a miniature snow globe with glitter swirling inside. “Remember this?”

I reached out, taking it from him and feeling a pang in my chest. “Of course, I do, kiddo. Papa picked this one at the last parade we all went to together,” I said softly, more to myself than anyone else.

Rory’s eyes glistened. “Can we put it front and center?”

“Of course.” I nodded, watching him as he hung it carefully, my chest tight with pride and nostalgia. This Christmas was shaping up to be the best he’d had since we lost Royce, and I wondered if it had anything to do with the veteran standing beside us—the gentle presence who seemed to ground us.

Rory held up an old, lopsided star ornament, grinning like he’d just unearthed a treasure. "This one goes on top, right?"

"Absolutely," I said, smiling. "It wouldn’t be Christmas without that star."

I nudged Wynter, and together, we watched as Rory stretched to place it at the very top. With a bit of a reach and a little boost from me, he carefully balanced the star until it sat proudly in place. We all stepped back to admire it, the room filling with that warm glow that only a Christmas tree brings.

Rory stepped back, admiring the tree one last time, before his eyes lit up with excitement. “Can I head upstairs, Dad? Matthew and Kenzie are waiting to play.” He held up his phone to show me the game invite from his friends.

I chuckled. “You’re all done here, huh?”

“Yep! It’s perfect!” Rory shot a quick look at the tree before heading for the stairs, his voice already filling with enthusiasm as he messaged his friends. A moment later, we heard his laughter drift down from his room as he joined his friends in the virtual world, each of them their own character in a game they’d most likely play long into the evening.

I glanced over at Wynter, who was watching me with an attentive gaze that felt... safe, somehow. His eyes fell on an ornament, and he picked it up gently—a delicate glass one with a swirl of color at its center. I could see the unspoken question in his eyes.

“Royce bought that our first Christmas as a family of three.”

Wynter’s thumb traced the surface of the ornament, a hint of reverence in his expression. “It’s beautiful. Royce always did have an eye for things that sparkled,” he murmured, his lips curving in a quiet smile as he glanced at me. “You could see it in the way he looked at you.”

A smile tugged at my own mouth, though it was tinged with a bittersweet edge. “Yeah. He was a lot like that glass—strong.”

Wynter’s hand trembled slightly as he turned the ornament, watching it catch the glow of the Christmas lights. “Keeping pieces of him around… reminds you of the good times, doesn’t it?”

I nodded, the weight of old memories pressing on my chest. “Yeah… but it’s hard, too. Makes you wonder if you’ll ever be able to feel like that about someone again.” I glanced at Wynter, gauging his reaction.

He was silent for a moment, eyes downcast as he held the ornament. I watched as his face softened, and I could see the years of regret and guilt flicker across his features, shadows of the past that had kept him from reaching out. “Taran, I should’ve… I should’ve been there—” His voice faltered, and he swallowed hard, as if to steady himself. “I just couldn’t... I didn’t know how to come back after he was gone.”

I took a deep breath, feeling my throat tighten. “I was hurt, Wynter. Confused. You were there for the first two months, went back to the base, and I never saw you again. Only heard through the town grapevine that you were back home for two or three weeks every once in a while, and then you were gone again. I thought maybe you… maybe you hated me because I couldn’t see the signs. Because I didn’t see Royce was teetering on the edge.”

Wynter’s eyes lifted, sharp with emotion. “No. Never. I... I blamed myself. Royce was my best friend, and I was away, and—” He exhaled, his fingers brushing over the ornament again, more firmly this time. “I felt like I let him down. Like I let you down.”

We both fell silent, and I felt the years of misunderstanding and pain dissolve between us, a shared weight that neither of us had spoken aloud until now.

“Wynter,” I said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “He would want you to hang this, you know. He’d want you to feel like you were part of this family still.” My voice dropped. “You are still part of this family.”

Wynter looked at me, his eyes glistening in the dim light. Carefully, he raised the ornament to a branch near the center of the tree, his movements deliberate, almost ceremonial. As he let go, the ornament caught the glow of the lights and sparkled, a small, enduring reminder of Royce.

We stood there for a long moment, just the two of us side by side, and it felt as though Royce was there too, lingering in the warmth we’d managed to find again.

“Have you thought about… letting someone in again? Or is it just too much after… well, everything?” Wynter’s voice was quiet, hesitant but filled with something vulnerable, almost like hope.

I sighed. “Losing Royce… it was losing a part of myself. I thought that was it—I’d had my one shot at love, you know? And it was more than enough… but now…”

“But now…?” He leaned in closer, his face open, waiting.

I met his gaze, searching for any hint of doubt. “I guess I’m afraid, Wyn. Of opening up. Of letting myself feel anything like that again, just to lose it.” My voice came out quieter than I intended. “And I can’t help but wonder… if this is real for you or if you’re just… needing something after everything with Lisa.”

He took a steadying breath, his fingers grazing mine as we reached for the same ornament. “Taran, this isn’t a rebound. It’s not… whatever leftover feelings I have because I need someone right now. It’s more than that. You’re more than that.”

My heart gave a small, unexpected leap, and I found myself studying him, his eyes, the quiet confidence in his voice. But a part of me held back, unsure. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because…” He hesitated, then ran a hand through his hair, looking both thoughtful and vulnerable. “Because being here with you, like this... it feels like the most right thing I’ve done in a long time. And I’ve wanted this for longer than I’d let myself admit.”

Wynter’s hand found mine again, his touch sending warmth up my arm. He was searching my face, his eyes full of that same intensity I’d glimpsed before. “Taran, I know I’m asking you to trust me, and I know it’s not easy. But... I’m here because I want to be. Because I’m ready to be.”

He squeezed my hand, just for a moment, before letting go. It was subtle but enough to make me feel that maybe... maybe... this wasn’t a fleeting feeling for him.

Wynter and I lingered beside the tree, taking in the peaceful moment, our shoulders brushing. The silence held a weight of its own, the kind that didn’t demand filling but invited more.

He looked over at me, his eyes reflecting the soft, twinkling lights. “What would a real chance between us even look like?”

I turned to him, my mind catching up with my heart. “I think… it’d mean letting you in. Completely. But Rory’s my first priority, Wynter.”

He nodded, his gaze steady, reassuring. “I know. And I’m not looking to rush anything. I’d never want to make things harder for him… or for you. I just—” His voice softened. “I want to make it work, Taran. Only if you do too.”

The words hung in the air between us, as real and solid as any promise.

Wynter’s hand brushed mine. Without thinking, I squeezed, letting the touch linger.

I looked up, meeting his gaze, and everything else faded. His eyes held a question, but I’d already decided. I leaned in, feeling his breath warm against mine as we closed the distance.

The kiss was slow, unhurried, yet full of all the things we hadn’t said.