I worked myself hard with one hand, the heat overwhelming until we both spilled, his fingers clenched in my hair.
“Did you just come from sucking me off?” he asked, incredulous, when I rose to my feet.
I kissed him again, tasting steam and salt. “You don’t know what you do to me.”
Later, in the kitchen, we split bagels slathered with cream cheese, Wes padding around barefoot while I leaned against the counter, watching him. He launched into a breathless explanation about asking Mr. Evers, the shop teacher at Cooper High, to work up a design with the kids, how he’d have it by the end of the week. Bailey had sourced a sleigh, Kai promised to attach wheels, and all that was left were the finishing touches, like the pretend books and printed flyers he could have the same kids throw from the float. His words tumbled out fast, his eyes bright, his hands waving with enthusiasm. Cross-marketing for The Story LanternandThe Real McCoy, how this could be a really good thing.
And I stared, struck dumb. Any thoughts of not being here with him—every freaking morning, every storm, every book and bagel—I shoved aside. Because I wanted this, all of it, him most of all.
All I had to do was make sense of where my life fit with all of this.
11 a.m. and the early morning breakfast rush was dying down—we didn’t run a full menu, but bacon and sausage were a thing, and Jamie loved the overtime from coming in to deal with all of that. I took ten minutes, dropped off a coffee to Wes, who was leaning over the counter with Brooke, their heads bent together over some list she’d drawn up. His hands moved as fastas his words, bright and animated, as if he’d swallowed sunlight.
“…and if Adrian’s signing goes well, then maybe the next publisher will take us seriously?—”
Brooke smirked. “Notmaybe.They will.”
I hung back by the doorway, unnoticed for once, watching him glow. God, I loved him like this—so alive, so certain. He belonged here, chasing dreams that were finally starting to chase him back.
And I hated myself for the twist in my gut, because if LA called, I’d be gone.
I didn’t want to interrupt. Instead, I left the coffee on the counter, stuck a Post-it note on it with anX, and then went back to my place to carry my own coffee upstairs to my office, needing a breather.
I flicked open my emails, half-dreading, half-hoping, and there it was: one from LA, sent yesterday afternoon, offering me a video interview on December 14thand was I interested? My fingers had already typed and sent ayesbefore my brain caught up.
I could already imagine the faces of all those people at Ashcroft College who had let me down. LA was prestigious, the step-up, the proof I was better than them. Than Mark. Right?
Of course, I was interested.
Chapter 13
Wesley
Something had shiftedin Hunter in the past two weeks. Since that night when my life had been completely changed by the most intense sex I’d ever experienced, he’d been quieter. Not distant, not ignoring me—just thoughtful in a way that left silences hanging between us. He was still spending the night, and sometimes we made love, and sometimes we cuddled and talked about everything and nothing. He wasn’t shutting me out, but it felt like he was carrying something heavy inside, weighing every word, every glance. And I couldn’t help wondering if he was replaying that night as much as I was, or if he was wondering how to tell me he was leaving. He hadn’t mentioned the job offer upstate, hadn’t wanted to talk about it, not even wanting to make a pros and cons list when I suggested it.
He said he was still thinking, and the stupid part of me wanted him to decide that yes, he’d always wanted to be a barista, and that he was staying.
I wished for that simple solution, but that didn’t mean he’d be happy. He was an educator, born to discuss the opposing forces in Civil War history eloquently with his sexy professorial voice.
I still worried about what he might be thinking.
Or maybe I was projecting fears and concerns because the envelope from the lawyers wasstillsitting on my desk, heavy cream paper, thick enough to feel expensive, and stamped with my old name in bold black type—Wesley Fairfax-Fitzalan. I’d skimmed the first page before my brain started to itch with unease. Paragraphs of legalese marched across the paper, full of words liketrustee authorityandliquidation clauses. One line in particular made me pause—something abouttemporary redirection of disbursements pending signatory consent. Sounded ominous. Sounded like my family was trying to worm their way back into control of the one thing I had left.
I couldn’t face it alone. Which meant I needed a lawyer, and the only lawyer I knew was one of the Haynes brothers, Brooke’s husband, Callum. I knew I’d be seeing him today at the Haynes’ Thanksgiving meal, to which Hunter and I had been invited. Hunter hadseemed kind of shocked to be yanked into the Haynes family, but I loved every minute of it.
Kai and Bailey had opened the rink for family, just like last year, and it felt like stepping into a snow globe version of Vermont. Strings of fairy lights glittered along the boards, Christmas music drifted over the speakers despite ittechnicallybeing Thanksgiving, and Bailey had set up a table piled with pumpkin-spice lattes and mini pumpkin pies topped with whipped cream turkeys wearing Santa hats. It was chaos, joy, and holiday magic all rolled into one.
And this year, I wasn’t alone because Hunter was with me, sitting alongside me on the rink benches, cups of Bailey’s cocoa warming our hands, watching the swirl of family out on the ice.
“You skate?” I asked, already knowing the answer.
“My ankles aren’t built for it,” he muttered, grimacing into his cup.
“Last time I wore skates, I bruised my tailbone so bad it had its own zip code,” I confessed. “So, we’re safe here.”
Safe. That was exactly what it felt like, tucked shoulder to shoulder on a wooden bench while the Haynes family spread their warmth across the rink. Kids shrieked with laughter as Kai guided them in wide circles, his big hands steadying wobbly ankles. Bailey handed out more cocoa, cheeks pink, eyesshining as he cheered encouragingly at every single person who tried to skate.
I blinked hard against a sudden sting in my eyes. “This—this is what family looks like. Found family, right here. Wishing Tree always makes room.”
