Just like now.
The five of them decorated cookies for a good two hours before Grams claimed she was ready to head off to bed.
“Need any help—” Wynter started, but Grams waved her off.
“I’m old. I’m not an invalid. There are still cookies that need frosting. The four of you should keep it up.”
“Actually…” Isabelle grimaced, placing her hand on Jason’s forearm. “It’s getting a little late, and Jason needs to be at the café early to bake the fresh bread for the day. Would you mind terribly if we duck out? We brought two cars, so Marcus can help you finish up.”
Wynter stiffened. “But?—”
“Yeah, that’s going to work the best,” Jason added.
Wynter stared at the couple helplessly. Marcus was still at her side, and while she’d thoroughly enjoyed decorating the cookies with all of them, she dreaded spending time alone withhim. It wouldn’t take much at all for her to fall under his spell. She’d experienced it first-hand several times.
And yet why couldn’t she bring herself to tell him he should go and she’d take care of the rest on her own? She knew it was dangerous. She knew that Marcus would try something even though he’d agreed to drop the subject.
It was the way he looked at her that gave her all the proof she needed.
So, when the house was quiet and she was sprinkling sugar crystals on the yellow frosted star, she couldn’t help being startled by his low voice.
“Thanks for this.”
Wynter glanced at him and smiled as warmly as she could. “Of course. Turns out I like decorating Christmas cookies.”
His returned smile put her insides into a cyclone of emotion. “Jason and Isabelle are always doing stuff like this. I think it helps my sister make sense of stuff in her own past.”
Frowning, Wynter glanced up at him. Of course she wouldn’t pry, and Marcus was hardly the person who would tell her what he was referring to. He honored other people’s privacy. “I’m glad she’s able to find something that makes her happy.”
“Me too,” Marcus agreed. He put down his knife and faced her, his side bumping against the table. “What about you?”
“Whataboutme?” Wynter’s hands stilled.
“Do you have something you like to do—for happiness’ sake?”
“Oh.” A small smile tugged at her lips. “Honestly, I think I grew out of all the anger I had about the bullies. Not even the memories bother me that much.” She peeked at him from beneath her lashes for only a second, but their gazes collided anyway. “I think you were in part a reason for that. I always had someone who would stick up for me.”
Always.
Her heart thrummed with the acknowledgement. Never in all the time she’d known Marcus had he done anything to make her feel less than. He’d never done anything to make her believe he wouldn’t be there for her. His loyalty wasn’t something that came easily. It was hard-earned and worth every drop of blood, every tear shed. It was unique, and she’d completely shattered it when she’d been the one to put distance between them.
Wynter fought the tears that attempted to cut past her defenses. No crying. Not right now. She refused to show any ounce of it. They were enjoying themselves. She blinked rapidly and flashed Marcus a smile. “What about you? Are sugar cookie decorating events a common theme in your life?”
Marcus’s brows furrowed as he stared down at his cookies. She couldn’t help but laugh. The cookies with his particular touch weren’t exactly pretty. The frosting was uneven and often didn’t cover the cookie from edge to edge. Sprinkles had been tossed haphazardly onto their surfaces, so there were definite areas where they were put on too thick and too sparse in other areas.
He lifted his gaze to meet hers, his grin lopsided. “I don’t think cookie decorating skills are ever going to be something I excel at.”
“You never know. Practice makes perfect, right?”
Marcus shook his head with a laugh. “Personally, I think that you need to have a modicum of talent to begin with in order to foster that skill. This?” He gestured toward a cookie that looked as though a toddler had had a fun day at preschool. “Proves I don’t have any talent in this sort of thing.”
She laughed along with him. “Okay, so tell me. In the last several years, what have you done that makes you happy?”
His expression went sullen for a moment. Or maybe it was contemplative. Perhaps a little of both. He rubbed the back of his neck, and when he met her eyes, all she wanted to do was throwherself into his arms and apologize for leaving. He’d needed a friend. He’d needed her as much as she’d needed him.
Of course he wouldn’t say something like that out loud, but it was written all over his face.
Marcus started to say something, then stopped himself before continuing. “I guess I don’t really have anything. I go with the flow. I do what my brother asks me to do. Nothing has really sparked for me…”
