CHAPTER SEVENTEEN #3
Her smile fades. “I remembered everything,” she says quietly.
“How sad I was. How much I’d lost.” Her voice wavers slightly.
“It all just came back at once.” She swallows.
“I missed my mum. I missed Josh. I felt guilty about Anika and . . .” She hesitates, then glances at me.
“Well, you didn’t exactly make things easier. ”
I nod slowly, taking that without argument. “Did you tell anyone how bad it was?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “I didn’t really know how to explain it,” she admits. “It felt stupid saying I couldn’t cope when nothing had actually changed . . . except everything had.”
“When did you find out about the baby?” I ask after a moment.
She gives a small smile, wiping at a tear before it falls. “You know the rules,” she says softly. “One question each, and you’ve already had two.”
I huff out a quiet breath. “Fair enough.”
She studies me for a second. “How was the funeral?”
That familiar burn hots my chest. Even now, it’s like something grips around my lungs when I think about it.
“It was packed out,” I say, my voice rougher than I intended.
“They had to put a screen outside because there wasn’t enough room in the church.
” I shake my head slightly, a sad smile pulling at my lips.
“She would’ve loved that,” I add. “All those people. All that attention.”
Wynter nods, her expression soft. “Did you arrange it?” she asks. “And do everything she wanted?”
“Yeah,” I say. “She left instructions for everything. Down to the music, the flowers . . . even what people should wear.” I huff a quiet laugh. “Typical Anika.”
“Did you feel angry at her?” Wynter asks gently.
The question catches me off guard and I hesitate, my brow furrowing. “Yeah,” I admit eventually. “I still do sometimes.”
Her eyes soften. “I get that,” she murmurs.
Silence settles for a beat before she shifts slightly. “After what you said to me,” she continues, her voice quieter now, “I did a test.” I look at her sharply. “I was in shock,” she adds quickly. “I didn’t expect it. Not really.”
My gaze drops briefly to her stomach before I look away again.
“Does Sebastian know you’re not his dad?” she asks.
I shake my head. “We thought it would confuse him,” I say. “He doesn’t ask about Luke. It’s like that part of his life just disappeared.” I pause, then glance back at her. “Do you think we should tell him?” I ask. And I’m surprised at how much I really want her input on this.
She hesitates. “I don’t know,” she admits. “He’s already lost so much. Maybe letting him feel safe right now is enough.”
I nod slowly. “Why didn’t you call me?” I ask quietly. “About the baby.”
Her laugh is cold this time. Hollow. “Do you remember the last things you said to me?” she asks.
I don’t answer. Because I do, every cruel word. “I was in a bad place,” I mutter, shame creeping in.
She looks up. “I lost my mum and the love of my life within months of each other,” she says, her voice steady but firm. “And I still didn’t tear people apart the way you did.” Guilt twists my heart some more and I nod. “You’ve gotta do better, Ray.”
I drag a hand over my face, exhaling slowly. “I know,” I admit. “Catherine reminds me of that every five minutes.”
WYNTER
I’ve lost that fear I used to feel whenever Ray walked into a room.
It’s strange.
For so long, he felt untouchable, like one wrong move and everything could be taken from me. But now, I’m not his employee. He can’t fire me.
Maybe that’s why something feels different between us. Or maybe it’s just that I’ve already lost too much to be scared of him anymore.
By the time I climb into my old bed, exhaustion hits me hard. My body sinks into the mattress like it remembers this place before my mind does. But sleep doesn’t come easy.
When it does, it’s restless. Fragmented.
Anika’s laugh echoes through my dreams, bright and alive, and then it twists into something quieter, distant . . . gone.
I wake with a sharp breath at four a.m., my chest tight, the silence pressing in around me.
I try to go back to sleep. I really do. But my thoughts won’t settle, and lying there just makes everything louder.
So, I give up.
I drag myself out of bed, wrap my dressing gown tightly around myself, and head downstairs. The routine feels familiar, something I had done before when I couldn’t sleep.
And right now, all I can think about is hot chocolate.
Joel’s hot chocolate.
The casino is quiet when I step inside. Not empty, but subdued. Low lights, soft chatter, the hum of machines in the background.
I slide onto a barstool and wait.
When Joel finally appears, his face lights up like I’ve just made his night.
“Wynter?” he grins, rushing around the bar. Before I can react, he lifts me clean off the stool and spins me around. “Oh my god, it’s so good to see you.”
“Careful,” I laugh, grabbing onto his shoulders. “I’m carrying precious cargo now.”
He freezes slightly as he sets me back down, his eyes dropping to where my hands instinctively rest over my stomach.
“Wow,” he exhales. “You really came back with a bang.”
“Something like that,” I say with a small shrug.
“And I’m guessing,” he adds, already moving behind the bar, “this is a four a.m. hot chocolate emergency?”
I nod. “The only kind.”
He chuckles, grabbing a mug and getting to work.
“Oh crap,” I mutter, patting my dressing gown pockets. “I don’t have one of those card things.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says without even looking up. “It’s on the house.”
He places the mug in front of me, and the smell alone makes my stomach rumble. “God, I’ve missed this,” I murmur, wrapping my hands around the warmth.
Joel leans on the counter, watching me. “So, where the hell have you been? Holly went mad trying to get hold of you.”
I hesitate for a second then shrug. “My aunt had me sectioned.” I’m not ashamed.
His eyes widen. “Jesus, Wynter.”
“She’s dramatic,” I add quickly. “I’m fine now. Well . . . better.”
He doesn’t look entirely convinced. “Was it because of him?” he asks, lowering his voice.
I shake my head, staring into my drink. “Not really. It didn’t help, but there was other stuff going on.”
He studies me for a moment then nods slowly. “He was seeing someone,” Joel says carefully. “Whilst you were gone.” My stomach twists. I should tell him to stop, that it’s none of my business. “But Holly said the second your aunt came back here and tore strips off him, he ended it.”
I let out a small breath, trying to keep my expression neutral. “He shouldn’t have,” I say quietly. “We’re done. Whatever this is now, it’s not that.”
Joel raises a brow and nods towards my stomach. “Not exactly done, though, is it?”
I glance down, my hand drifting over the small bump. “No,” I admit, “I guess not.” Silence lingers for a moment before I straighten slightly. “But I’m not staying,” I add. “Not like before. I just need a bit of time to get myself sorted, and then I’ll find my own place.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
I nod, letting myself picture it. “Somewhere quiet. Not here. Maybe a village. I want a garden, a little cottage. Somewhere that feels safe.”
He smiles faintly. “That sounds more like you.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Not all this.” I gesture vaguely around the casino, taking in the noise, the lights, the life that never really sleeps.
Joel lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Christ, how did you end up here, Wynter?”
I take a sip of my drink, letting the warmth settle in my chest. “Bad timing,” I say, “and shit decisions.” I pause then add, softer, “or maybe just life.”