Chapter 34 Nightmares #2
“We were on lake and…she was still here, and I tried to help, I tried—” he said, but I could see that it was only distressing him more.
“You don’t have to explain ,Wynnie, I know,” I reassured him, tears pooling in my eyes for him.
I would feel what he couldn’t express, what was quite literally making him sick from the inside out.
The kind of tragedy that clawed at you and demanded transparency.
But not today, he couldn’t do words and explanations today and I knew what that was like all too well.
And that was enough.
The knock at the door was quick and impatient, followed by a familiar voice calling out, “Open up, Wyn, or we’re breaking in!”
Wynter glanced at me from where he sat on the couch, and for a moment, I thought he might ask me to stall. His pale face and the slump of his shoulders made it clear he wasn’t ready, but instead, he took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and stood.
“Got it,” he called, his voice stronger than I expected. He turned to me with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “They’ll just keep yelling if I don’t.”
I watched as he crossed the room, his steps steady but not entirely confident. I had to give him credit—he was trying, even if it was costing him.
When he opened the door, Beck and Bae burst in like a storm. Beck, her long hair bouncing wildly, pulled him into a tight hug, while Bae darted around her, snapping a picture on her phone.
“Look who’s alive!” Beck teased, pulling back and ruffling his already messy hair.
“Barely,” Wynter shot back, but his grin was quick and effortless. “You two never let me have a quiet day, do you?”
“Not when we’ve got plans,” Bae said, looping her arm through his and pulling him toward the couch. “Museum day! You’re not backing out, right?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly, letting her drag him along.
I stayed back, watching as Wynter’s sisters filled the apartment with their usual energy.
It was like they carried their own little universe with them—loud, vibrant, and impossible to ignore.
Wynter matched their pace seamlessly, laughing at their jokes and firing back quick comebacks like he hadn’t been struggling to stay upright an hour ago.
But I noticed the cracks in his performance. The way his laugh lingered a second too long, how he’d subtly lean against the back of the couch for support, or how his hand drifted to his stomach when he thought no one was looking. He was doing a good job of hiding it, but not from me.
Wynter was fussing over Bae again, his hands busy wrapping a scarf around her neck while she sat on the couch with an exaggerated scowl.
“You’re going to freeze if you go out like this,” he said, crouching in front of her and tugging at the scarf until it sat just right. His voice was patient, but his brow furrowed with that quiet determination he always had when he decided someone needed taking care of.
Bae groaned. “I have a coat, Wyn. It’s right there.” She gestured vaguely toward the puffer jacket lying half off the couch.
“That’s not enough,” Wynter replied, completely unbothered. “Layers, Bae. Layers are your friend.”
From my spot in the kitchen, I smirked into my tea. “You’re wasting your breath, Wyn,” I called over. “She’ll complain about the scarf the second we’re outside.”
Bae shot me a glare. “Not true!”
“Completely true,” Beck chimed in, sprawled in the armchair flipping through a magazine. “Don’t act like you haven’t whined about us forcing ‘itchy scarves’ on you before.”
Bae crossed her arms but didn’t argue further as Wynter pulled out a pair of gloves from a drawer and handed them to her. “If you’re going to whine about anything,” he said with a small smile, “it won’t be about being cold.”
She rolled her eyes but took the gloves anyway, muttering, “You’re so bossy.”
“And you’re awfully stubborn,” Wynter countered, kneeling again to slip thick wool socks over her feet. “But fortunately, I’ll always do what’s best for you”
They were all awfully English. It was endearing.
Watching him work, I couldn’t help but smile. He had this quiet way of showing care, a balance of patience and persistence that always seemed to win people over—well eventually.
“You really missed your calling as a mommy blogger,” Beck teased from her chair, grinning.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Wynter replied easily, not even looking up.
Once Bae was properly layered and grumbling under her breath about “fashion sacrifices,” Wynter headed into the kitchen, brushing past me with a light touch to my back as he opened the cabinet above the sink.
“I’ll do it,” he said, reaching for the flasks.
I leaned against the counter, watching him. Wynter moved with quiet precision, filling each flask like it was a ritual. He knew exactly what everyone wanted without asking.
“Beck,” he murmured, pouring hot water over peppermint tea leaves, “heavy on the honey.” He snapped the lid onto the red flask and set it on the counter.
“True perfection,” Beck said from the living room, lifting her head just enough to flash him a grin.
“Bae,” Wynter continued, reaching for the yellow flask, “chai with extra cinnamon.”
“Bless your soul, Winnie The Pooh,” Bae said, already reaching for it before he’d even handed it to her.
“And for Yesoh…” His voice softened, and I felt my heart squeeze a little as he turned to the blue flask. “Jasmine tea. No sugar.” He held it out to me, his expression warm but casual, like it was nothing.
“Thanks,” I said, taking it from him. Our fingers brushed, and his smile deepened, just enough for me to notice.
“Don’t forget yours,” I said, nodding toward the black flask he’d left last.
“Matcha,” he said simply, pouring his own without hesitation.
“All right,” Wynter said as he capped the last flask and lined them up on the counter. “Everyone’s fed, fueled, and layered. Let’s move before Beck starts giving us a motivational speech about the virtues of being on time.”
Beck rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m not that bad. You’re making me sound like Nanny McPhee reincarnated.”
“You are,” Bae and I said in unison. “And we, in fact, don’t need you, so you must go.”
Wynter chuckled softly as he grabbed his coat, looking over us like he was making sure everything was in order. He glanced at me as he pulled his scarf around his neck, his eyes warm and steady.
“You ready?” he asked, his voice lower now, meant just for me.
“Always,” I replied.
As we stepped out into the crisp winter air, I sipped my tea, feeling the warmth spread through me—not just from the drink, but from him.
Wynter didn’t just care; he showed it in every little thing he did, from wrapping scarves to remembering favorite teas.
And that, more than anything, made me adore him even more.
Beck declared, clapping her hands. “The museum isn’t going to marvel at itself.”
“I’m ready,” Wynter said, with a laboured breath.
“You don’t look ready,” Bae teased, squinting at him. “You look like you need coffee or…I don’t know, ten more hours of sleep.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Wynter replied, rolling his eyes but smiling all the same.
“He’s fine,” I said, slinging my arm over Wynter’s shoulder. “Let’s walk faster or Beck might start running the whole museum tour herself.”
Beck pointed at me. “Don’t tempt me.”
We made it to the museum without a hitch, Beck and Bae filling the ride with chatter about some drama about sharing the aux and all the exhibits they wanted to see. Wynter chimed in now and then, keeping his energy up, but I could tell he was pacing himself.
Once we were inside the museum, the girls wasted no time, dispersing and wandering about eye collections of sculptures.
Wynter trail behind them staying close, but letting them take the lead.
We laughed as Bae cracked jokes about absolutely everything and Beck acted like she personally knew the Greek gods depicted in the portraits.
I saw his hand twitch towards the wall of a nearby railing, like he was ready to catch himself if he stumbled.
I knew he wasn’t well and it was getting borderline impossible for him to hide it.
Or maybe I just had a PhD in reading him.
Just then Beck grabbed his arm and tugged him towards a statue of Achilles. “Isn’t this insane?”
“Yeah it’s amazing,” he agreed.
“Where is Patroclus?” Bae cleared her thought, squinting her eyes.
“Oh brother here we go—” Beck groaned.
“What do you mean?” Wyn asked,
“She’s referencing The Song of Achilles by Madeleine Miller where Patroclus and Achilles are imagined as starcrossed lovers,” I explicated.
“Pardon you, they are destined to love each other in every universe it’s not made up !” Bae argued, and Wyn smiled then placed a hand to his middle and winced.
“Hey, come see this a sec!” I interrupted, pulling him aside away from the girls. I placed a hand on his cheek and looked into his sleep deprived gaze. “Are you okay?
“I’m fine,” he repeated.
“You’re doing great, but you’re not a superhero. If you need a break, we can take one,” I reminded him.
“ I just don’t want them to worry when even I haven’t a clue what’s wrong with me,” he explained.
“They won’t. Let’s stick to the quieter exhibits. I’ll keep them distracted if they start to notice anything. But just so you know, I don’t support this conspiracy,” I assured him.
He whispered, “thanks,” holding my gaze for a moment, his expression softening.
We moved forward to catch up with the girls. I stayed close, ready to intervene if he needed me, not that he’d ever admit that he did. I wasn’t about to let him burn himself out for anyone—not even Beck and Bae.
We were halfway through the impressionist exhibit when I noticed the flash of a camera. It wasn’t subtle like that day in the park, and it wasn’t from someone admiring the art. I glanced over just in time to see Wynter stiffen in alert as he listened to Bae rambling on. He seemed uncomfortable.
“Wyn?” I spoke stepping closer,