Adam's Winter Scenario - Owl Quill+

Two Years After the Final Events of The Wayhaven Chronicles…

Wayhaven is a peaceful place at the best of times, but something about winter gives it a serenity no words could ever capture.

Frost glitters on the edges of the forest, sparkling like crushed diamonds, the chill mist dancing in swirling waves around the tree trunks before spreading a wash of fog out towards the lapping waves of the lake’s shoreline.

Pebbles as cold as ice cubes crush beneath our boots as we walk.

I breathe in the winter air, letting the clearness of it fill my lungs, the scent of freshwater and pine lingering on the breath.

“You have been unusually quiet,” Adam remarks from beside me. His fingers squeeze mine, both our hands twined together in the pocket of my coat. “Is something wrong?”

I gaze into his eyes. The green of them is so familiar now—crisp and clear—just like winter itself.

Life has settled into a peaceful rhythm since everything that happened a couple of years ago. Honestly, I wasn’t sure we’d ever make it to this point. I couldn’t think beyond what was happening then.

A future seemed impossible.

A future with Adam was nothing but a dream.

But now we’re here—walking together along the lake’s edge, hand in hand, two hearts connected in a cosmic way that no one in history could ever, or will, ever be able to match.

How could anything ever be wrong again?

The breath I’d just inhaled rolls out of me, disturbing the early morning mist. “Nothing is wrong. In fact, everything is…perfect.”

“Your hands still feel chill,” he comments with a slight frown, tugging his hand against mine to encourage me closer.

“Maybe. But it doesn’t stop the fact that just us being here together makes this morning perfect,” I reply.

He eyes me, lips curling into a half-smile. “Are you plying me with such lines to distract from how obviously cold you are so we don’t return home?”

I draw to a stop and shake my head. “Would I ever?”

He leans in, pressing a soft quick kiss to my lips, remaining close to gaze into my eyes. “Yes. You would.”

I chuckle. We continue on wandering down the pebble lakeside together.

A flock of gulls call across the lake, their silhouettes stark against the bubbling cloud that coats that sky. Waves as white as those clouds tumble across the rocks, leaving them slick and icy. The trees at the edge of the lake are faded in frosted mist.

But the winter around us seems a distant thing as we walk together.

“So why aren’t you keen to return home?” I ask.

He seems to ponder the question, his steps matching mine as we walk, his posture relaxed to help his easy gait. “I suppose because you are not.”

“What do you mean?”

“I wish to be where you are, and you wish to be here.” He smiles. “So here is where I shall also be.”

I pause, watching the grey-blue winter water lap ever closer to our feet. “Did you think we’d reach this point, Adam?” I draw my gaze up from the shoreline to his eyes. “Me and you, I mean.”

“No.” There’s a pinch of guilt that tugs at his features. “But that was because I was too afraid to let it.”

I pull my hand out of my pocket, bending down to collect a few flatter pebbles. “No point in dwelling on the past, I guess.”

A breath of laughter leaves him. “How ironic to hear that now.”

I chuckle as well, handing him a few stones. “Are you up for it?”

He smooths over one with his thumb. “You wish to skip stones?”

I watch for his reaction before shaking my head and looking away. “We don’t have to if you don’t—”

His hand lays over mine, meeting my eyes for a while before he turns, takes one of the stones and flicks it with a skilled whipping of his wrist.

The pebble skips one, two, three, four…five…six…

…then plops into the water with a gentle ripple.

“Not my worst considering I have not done this activity since I was a teenager,” he comments with a smugness that weirdly and annoyingly suits him. “But I will count that merely as a practice throw.”

“A practice throw?” I glance down at my stones and purse my lips.

We take turns skipping our stones, stooping down to retrieve more as our piles dwindle.

We’re evenly matched by the time the cold is biting into us deep enough that we agree this turn will be our last. But then, being so even shouldn’t be a surprise considering we’re so well matched together these days in almost everything.

Adam polishes his stone on his coat, turning it in his hands to find just the right edge. He steps closer to the water, not caring that the waves slap at his boots as he lines up his shot.

With a flick, he lets go…only for the stone to plummet beneath the water after one skip.

I suck in a breath between my teeth and rub at his arm. “Sorry.”

He holds up his hands and steps back. “There is nothing to blame but my own apparent lack of skill.”

I snort out a laugh. “Really? I think you’ve proven you have talent at this. One bad throw doesn’t change that.”

His jaw stays clenched.

My amusement lingers as I shake my head, stepping into the space he’d just been, looking over the water which shimmers with a coat of icy mist as the faded sun tries its best to add some light to the chilled day.

I weigh the pebble in my hand. It is well weighted, smooth, slightly oval. Perfect for skipping.

I could win this easily.

My gaze shifts to Adam’s, his body already withered in defeat, his features drawn with resignation.

…But I suppose I could also keep it at a tie.

I rip my gaze away from Adam with a shake of my head.

No, he wouldn’t want me to throw the win just to make him feel better.

With a decided nod, I pull my wrist back before snapping it forwards and letting the stone fly.

It bounces with elegant ease across the lake, doing nothing but kissing the surface before continuing its bouncing path for another seven skips then dives under the water without a splash.

There’s a moment of silence before I turn around to see how Adam’s reacted to the loss.

My words are stolen as he beams brightly at me, striding in close and wrapping his arms around me to pull me against him. “An incredible show!”

I frown. “You’re not…upset at losing?”

“Why would I be when it means you won?” he asks, lifting one of his hands to cup my face. “And in such a spectacular manner.”

“You almost sound proud of me,” I say through a laugh, melting into the embrace as I curl my arms around him in return.

He angles in close. “You do not realise the pride I always have for you, [redacted pet name].”

His eyes shimmer, specks of silver dancing in the green, drawing me in until I’m almost breathless, hypnotised. His focus dances down to my lips, which tingle at his attention, as though already tasting the warmth of his offered kiss if I wish it.

Tipping forwards the rest of the way, my lips press against his, warm and inviting. The feel of him is familiar at this point but still always sends a wash of excitement to flood through me like it’s the first time.

Suddenly, the sun seems to shine as bright as a summer’s day. Warmth rushes through me, pooling in my stomach, firing a need for him I can barely contain.

I deepen the kiss, my tongue tracing across his lower lip, begging for access. He parts his lips with a groaned breath, grasping me firmer.

The world sways around and beneath me. Every kiss and touch leaves me with the sensation that this is how my life was always meant to be.

With him.