Page 30 of A Season of Second Chances
When we pull up behind my car, Winter puts the truck in park but doesn't turn off the engine. We sit there, the heater running, the silence deafening.
"I guess this is it," I finally say.
"Yeah." His hands grip the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are white. "Drive safe. The roads should be okay, but there might still be some icy patches. The plows have been through."
"I will." I reach for the door handle, then stop. "Winter?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For everything. For forgiving me. For being exactly who you've always been. For reminding me what it feels like to be home."
He finally looks at me, and the pain in his eyes nearly destroys me. "Joy, I.."
"Don't," I interrupt softly. "Please don't make this harder than it already is."
He nods, swallowing hard. "Okay."
I open the door and step out into the cold. Winter gets out too, pulling my suitcase from the back of his truck and loading it into my rental car. We stand there in the snow, the morning sun breaking through the clouds, making everything sparkle.
"Goodbye, Winter," I whisper.
"Goodbye, Joy."
I should get in the car. I should start the engine and drive away. I should leave before I change my mind, before I do something crazy like tell him I'm staying.
But as I reach for the car door, Winter's voice stops me.
"Wait."
I turn back to him, and he's standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking more vulnerable than I've ever seen him.
"Before you go, I just want you to know something." He takes a step closer. "It took me ten years to try and forget you, Joy. It took four days for you to make me fall in love with you again."
The world stops spinning.
My breath catches in my throat, my hand frozen on the car door.
He loves me. Still. Again. Always.
And suddenly, everything I've been running from, everything I've been too scared to face, becomes crystal clear.
I don't want to leave. I don't want to go back to Indianapolis. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what if, regretting this moment, missing him and Alana and the life we could build together.
I want to stay. I want to take the job with him. Help him run the lodge.
The realization hits me so hard I almost stumble. It's not fear that's been holding me back. It's not doubt about whether we could make it work. It's the echo of my eighteen-year-old self, the one who thought she needed to prove something to the world and to herself.
But I don't need to prove anything anymore.
I just need to be happy.
And happiness is standing right in front of me, with snow in his hair and hope in his eyes, waiting for me to make a choice.
The same choice I should have made ten years ago.
Fourteen
Winter
