Page 27 of A Season of Second Chances
"I should get some sleep," she says, her voice hollow. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."
"Joy, please. Let's talk about this." I feel colder than I have, even the last few days being out in this storm.
"There's nothing to talk about." She's dressed now, standing by the bed. "We both knew this was just for a short time."
"It doesn't have to be."
She leans down and kisses me, soft and sad. "Thank you for tonight, Winter. I'll treasure it. I'll treasure all of this. But tomorrow I might have to go back to my real life. And you will have to stay here and keep being an amazing dad to Alana. Run this lodge, and make sure your employees are taken care of."
She's at the door before I can respond, her hand on the knob.
"Joy," I call out, desperate to make her stay, to make her see that this doesn't have to end. "This is your room."
She pauses, looking back at me. In the dim light, I can see the tears on her cheeks, the pain in her eyes.
"Goodnight, Winter. I'll be back in an hour, please be gone," she whispers.
And then I don't see her anymore, the door closing softly behind her, leaving me alone in the darkness with nothing but the memory of what we just shared and the fear that I've lost her all over again.
I fall back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind racing. Tomorrow this might all end, and I go back to my life without her in it.
I've done it before. I survived it before. I can survive it again.
But God, I don't want to.
I don't want to watch her drive away. I don't want to explain to Alana why Joy isn't coming back. I don't want to spend the next ten years wondering what if, the same way I've spent the last ten years.
I want her to stay. I want us to have a chance. I want to build the life we should have had all those years ago.
But wanting something doesn't make it happen. And tomorrow, when she gets in her car and drives away, all the wanting in the world won't be enough to make her stay.
Unless she decides she wants it too.
And that's the terrifying part. Because I can't make that decision for her. All I can do is hope that these few days have meant as much to her as they have to me. That somewhere in her heart, she remembers what we had and wants to find it again.
I close my eyes, trying to hold onto the feeling of her in my arms, the sound of her laughter, the way she looked at Alana like a mother should.
Tomorrow she may leave.
But tonight, for a few brief hours, she was mine.
And maybe, that will have to be enough.
Thirteen
Joy
The sound of my suitcase zipper sounds like a gunshot in the dark.
I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, the same bed where Winter and I made love just hours ago, and I'm packing up my life to leave. Again. My hands shake as I fold my clothes, trying to fit everything back into the bag even though it feels impossible. How do you pack up emotions? Your fear, your happiness, and everything in between? How do you fold away feelings and zip them into a suitcase?
Tears blur my vision as I look around the room. It's just a hotel room, nothing special, but it's been my refuge for the past few days. Where I slept with Winter last night.
Last night.
God, last night was both the best and worst decision I have ever made.
I grab another shirt and press it to my face, letting myself cry into it. This is ridiculous. I'm a twenty-eight-old woman, and I'm crying over leaving a man I dated in high school. Except it's not that simple. It's never been that simple with Winter.
