Page 70 of The Heart of Winter

I watched as he stepped out of his car, then waited a moment before getting out myself, letting him walk ahead so it wouldn’t seem like we arrived at the exact same time.

Once he was disappearing inside, I grabbed a shopping cart and followed.

Winter made his way into the aisles. Fortunately, the store wasn’t too crowded, I could find him easily enough among the scattered shoppers.

Now, I just needed to figure out how to start a conversation in a way that sounded natural.

Something like…

"Oh, hey, I was just here to grab a can of peas, too!"

No. Silly. He’d never believe I actually cooked.

Maybe something more like…

"I came to buy a bottle of wine, for a romantic dinner. Just you and me."

Even worse. He’d immediately know this wasn’t just a coincidence.

It had to be something more casual. Something like...

WINTER

That day, I was in a crappy mood and decided to prepare a nice dinner. Lately, I’d been relying on meal-prep deliveries, unable to focus enough to cook anything, but I was starting to miss homemade food.

Treating myself to a good meal always worked wonders, helping me relax. But despite my ambitious plans, I ended up wandering the aisles aimlessly, staring blankly at the shelves while my mind kept flickering back to a certain someone with mint-green hair.

The past few days had been a carousel ride. I kept throwing myself into these pointless efforts to stabilize, to flatten out whatever had arisen in me after that last conversation with Sariel. I was unsettled by how intense it was, how consuming, and how little sense it made.

I’d spent hours muttering to myself,

What the fuck are you doing, Winter? You’re about to wreck your life and torch your reputation if you let this go one step further. Get your shit together. This isn’t you. What is it about this strange kid that’s got you losing your mind, so careless, so out of line? Pull yourself together.

That was the order I gave myself on repeat. But the battle was ongoing, no resolution in sight.

To make matters worse, that morning I’d had a one-on-one with Jacob.

The meeting was supposed to be about the Japanese negotiations, discussing final details for the BA app deal.

And then, because life clearly wasn’t done throwing stressful shit at me, he suddenly changed the subject.

"So," he said casually, "how are things going with Sariel? Werner gave him a solid review, but I want your take."

Good thing I wasn’t someone who flushed easily. I kept my voice steady.

"Everything’s fine. Sariel’s focused, dedicated to the work."

Jacob pinned me with a long, unreadable stare.

"And his behavior? Noticed anything… off?"

What was I supposed to say? That his son kept flirting with me? That I was skating on a razor-thin edge, one bad impulse away from doing something reckless?

"He’s professional. There’s no issue," I lied without blinking.

"Good. It needs to stay that way," Jacob said, his tone sharp and final. Not a comment. A demand.

I left the meeting with sweat down my back and ice in my veins.

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