Chapter 13
Wesley
Something had shifted in 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 was still sitting 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 like trustee authority and liquidation clauses.
One line in particular made me pause—something about temporary 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 had seemed 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 it technically being 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, eyes shining 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.”
Hunter didn’t tease me. Instead, his voice came low, thoughtful. “I used to skate when I was a kid. Not well. I fell once, hard, and after that… I quit. Funny, isn’t it? One fall and I decided it wasn’t worth failing at again.”
My chest tightened at the vulnerability in his tone. “You’ve been skating ever since, just on different ice,” I whispered, but he only gave me a small, wry smile, eyes still on the rink.
Across the ice, Lucas Haynes waved, already striding toward us with that purposeful grin that meant parade talk was imminent. “Goat float logistics,” Hunter muttered under his breath, and I choked on my cocoa.
By the time Lucas left us with a list of things that apparently needed wheels, Hunter had been pulled aside by Connor, leaving me free to duck over to the snack table.
Brooke was already there, balancing a plate of the teeny tiny pies, her gaze flicking back and forth between Alice skating with the older Haynes kids and Willow toddling along the rink’s edge.
“Hey, Brooke.” I grabbed a cup of cocoa. “How’s it going?”
“I’ve been thinking about the Trevelyan signing…”
“Yeah?”
“It’s silly, maybe. I mean, I don’t want to overstep. This is your store, and you already trusted me to handle the ticketing, and—”
“Brooke,” I interrupted gently, “you sold out a town hall in, what, a morning? If anyone’s allowed to have ideas, it’s you.”
That earned me a grin. “Okay. Well… the chatter online hasn’t slowed down. People are still asking if there’s any way they can come, if there’s standing room, overflow seating, anything. We can’t fit more, and every ticket’s gone.”
“I know, I’ve already reordered his books, and at this rate, I’ll need to do it again.”
Her eyes widened. “See? That’s exactly it.
There’s more demand than we can meet. Which made me wonder…
” She hesitated again, then plunged on. “What if, as well as the signing, we thought about something virtual? Like a livestream, or even just a recorded Q&A. People could still order signed copies from you, and you could ship them out after. The fan groups would go wild.”
My mind started racing, numbers slotting into place like a math problem.
She forged ahead. “We’d need cameras, a decent mic, maybe a moderator. But if people are desperate enough to pay for a virtual seat, plus the cost of a signed book…” she trailed off, and the math wasn’t just good—it was dazzling.
“Wow,” I said, lost for words.
Brooke brightened, emboldened now. “Exactly! And think about the reach—you’d have fans posting about it, sharing clips, tagging The Story Lantern. Free publicity on top of actual sales.”
I blinked, a little overwhelmed, half by her excitement and half by the sheer scale of what she was suggesting. “Brooke, that’s… a lot of work—”
“I’m excited to do it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t be doing all this for free. I can’t—”
She cut me off with a quick shake of her head, her smile fond but firm. “Don’t even start. I love this!”
As if on cue, Willow tottered over, cheeks flushed and wrapped both arms around my leg. Then she tipped her head back, holding her arms up as if she expected the world. “Carry Two! Carry Two!”
I laughed softly. “Well, when the boss demands it…” I bent to scoop her up, her giggle muffled in my scarf as she patted at my face with her clumsy little hands.
Brooke grinned at us, eyes warm. “See? You give more than you realize.”
And I couldn’t think of a single argument against that.
“Can I ask… do you think Callum would help if I…”
“What?” she asked.
I hesitated, heat creeping up my neck. I didn’t want to take advantage, and the thought of asking embarrassed me more than I expected. Still, the words pushed out. “I just need some legal advice. Off-the-record.”
“Of course he will, just ask him.”
“You’re sure?”
“He loves giving advice!” she said with a grin, “I’ll let him know you want to talk to him.”
She wandered off to her husband, and he gave me a thumbs up, but I still waited until he was free, given he seemed to be involved in everything from skating to an ice-snow fight.
When the chaos settled again, everyone was getting ready to head over to BBs for dinner, and Callum was waiting for an excitable Alice to get her outside shoes on.
My pulse jumped. Now or never. Willow had chosen Hunter to be her personal carrier and was asleep in his arms now, her tiny body curled into him.
One fist had bunched in the fabric of his sweater, holding on even in dreams.
I nudged him gently. “I just need to talk to Callum. You okay here?”
He glanced down at Willow. “Sure.”
Then I crossed to the benches where Callum was half bent over Alice, steadying her while she wobbled on her skates. I dropped my voice. “Hey, Callum—could I… Brooke said it was okay to ask for your advice.”
“Sure,” he said easily, glancing past me at Hunter holding Willow and smiling, though his attention was split.
“Alice, the bunny goes through the hole, around the tree, and back down the rabbit hole. See? Pull tight.” He looped the lace with practiced hands, showing her once more before letting her try.
Alice’s tongue poked out in concentration. “Through the hole… around the tree…” She tugged the laces, proud when they came together in a decent knot.
“Perfect,” Callum praised, kissing the top of her hat before turning back to me. His lawyer’s face clicked into place without missing a beat. “What’s up?”
“It’s about some paperwork I got. Family stuff. I don’t want it public. Could you maybe look at it for me? Just… off-the-record?”
His brow furrowed, lawyer mode clicking in instantly. “Bring it by tomorrow. I’ll keep it between us.”
Relief loosened my shoulders. “Thank you.”
“No worries.” Hunter stepped up beside me. “You want me to take Willow?”
“She’s fine, I’ve got her,” he murmured, and Callum grinned.
“She loves her Uncle Hunter.”
I could tell the words caught him off guard—Uncle Hunter.
She woke up when we went out into the cold and got cross when Hunter and I couldn’t fit into her car seat with her, her little face screwing up in indignation as if we’d broken some sacred toddler pact.