My Secret Santa Axton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

2. Secret Santa

Secret Santa

AXTON

I stand frozen, my hand hovering over the bowl filled with folded slips of paper, each one representing a name—a person whose holiday spirit I’m supposed to embrace in secret.

The warmth of Millie's Diner wraps around me like a cozy blanket, the familiar scent of fresh coffee and sweet cinnamon wafting through the air, but I barely register it.

The chatter and laughter of the crowd, filled with families and friends, fades to a dull roar in my ears, distorting the cheerful ambiance into a somewhat chaotic backdrop. How did I end up here, a reluctant participant in this jovial event?

The diner is transformed for the occasion, with vibrant strings of twinkling lights draped over the walls and colorful garlands hanging from the ceiling. Each table is adorned with festive decorations—a smattering of red and green that feels almost nostalgic.

The air is thick with anticipation and the sound of clinking dishes, punctuated by bursts of laughter from various corners. I can see Betty Thompson, the diner’s beloved owner, moving between tables, her warm smile as inviting as the hearty meal she serves. Children giggle in glee, darting between booths, their eyes alight with excitement.

Suddenly, Harper’s excited voice cuts through my hesitation, pulling me back from my swirling thoughts. "Come on, Uncle Axe! Pick one!" Her tone is filled with youthful exuberance, and I can’t ignore the eager bounce in her small, energetic body.

Next to her, Hazel stands on her tiptoes, her eyes wide with the thrill of the drawing. "Yeah, hurry up! We wanna see who you get!" Her enthusiasm is contagious, wrapped up in the magic of the season and the exhilarating mystery of the Secret Santa game.

"The idea is to keep this under wraps, munchkins," I mutter, nudging them playfully with my hips to make them giggle.

"Uncle," they sing, and I've heard it a million times. I swear these two hold a part of my heart.

Harper and Hazel are my best friend, Everett's twin daughters. They run Silver Ridge, and their Daddy loco, and I watch and laugh while they do it.

But today, I'm not laughing.

Forcing myself to breathe, I glance around the bustling diner—a place etched in my memory, each corner filled with echoes of laughter and snippets of meaningful conversations.

It’s difficult to escape the magnetic pull of the community, and their tightly-knit camaraderie contrasts sharply with the inner turmoil I feel.

I was born and raised in Silver Ridge but never felt like one of The Ridge. There were too many skeletons hidden here. But when Everett decided to return to start a special project, I agreed to join him.

So, here I am, living in the last place on earth I thought I'd call home. To the world, I returned to help my best friend raise his girls after his divorce.

But in my heart, I came back for Melanie "Mel" Peterson. Except I can't have her, and being this close has turned me into a grouchy, stubborn, stalking asshole.

"Come on, Ax! Just pull the damn thing," Everett calls out.

"Oh, Mamma, Daddy said a bad word," Harper points out, and the adults laugh.

Caught in the whirlwind of their joy, I remember that it’s supposed to be fun, a chance to spread some joy without the pressure of expectations.

I glance at Kenzie, who gives me an encouraging nod. She's why I'm in this mess, having added my name to the Secret Santa drawing without my knowledge. A portion of me wants to be annoyed, but the twins' excitement is hard to resist.

With a resigned sigh, I plunge my hand into the bowl. The paper slips rustle against my fingers as I fish around, feeling like I'm tempting fate with every movement. Finally, I grasp one and pull it out.

The diner seems to hold its breath as I unfold the slip. My heart stops when I see the name written in neat cursive: Melanie Peterson .

Of course. Of all the names in this damn town, I had to draw hers.

A memory flashes through my mind—Mel's lips on mine, soft and warm, the night before I left for basic training. The kiss that's haunted me for years, the one I've never been able to forget no matter how hard I try.

I clench the paper tightly, my mind reeling. This can't be happening. I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready for her.

"Who'd you get, Uncle Axe?" Hazel tugs at my sleeve, snapping me back to reality.

I clear my throat, shoving the paper deep into my pocket. Then I mock zipping my lips closed because, trust me, I'm not telling them. Or anyone.

Hazel pouts, and most days, I'm a sucker, but not about this. It's as if God's trying to torture me in public.

I pick the one person I should avoid, but I can't, and now I'm her Secret Santa.

Fuck…me!

Kenzie swoops in to distract the girls. "Come on, you two. Let's go see if Betty needs help with those Christmas cookies she was baking earlier."

As they scamper off, I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn to find Everett standing beside me, a knowing look in his eyes.

"You okay there, brother?" he asks quietly.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Everett glances at my pocket, then back at me. "You drew Mel's name, didn't you?"

Damn . Sometimes I hate how well he knows me. I give a short nod, bracing myself for whatever lecture or advice he's about to dish out.

Instead, he just squeezes my shoulder. "People who matter are worth the risk, Ax. Remember that."

With that cryptic statement, he moves away to join Kenzie and the girls, leaving me to grapple with the weight of what just happened.

It's been something to watch my best friend fall in love. Him and Kenzie make it look easy, but since I spent a lot of time with them, I know it was rough going for a while.

Everett had to overcome his past, and Kenzie had a crazy ex. But they've managed to find real love.

I scan the diner, taking in the festive decorations and the warmth of the gathered community. Families and friends cluster together, sharing stories and laughter. Children dart between tables, their excited giggles color the moment.

It's a scene from a Hallmark movie, and I feel like an intruder.

My eyes search for Mel almost against my will, but she's nowhere to be seen. Part of me is relieved, while another part aches with disappointment.

What would I even say to her if she were here?

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Because everytime I open my mouth we start arguing. So, to keep her close, I keep my mouth shut. It's better that way.

I think back to our last encounter at Steph's shop. Mel's playful banter, masking a deeper hurt I could see in her eyes. The way she called me out on my silence, challenging me to speak. And me, standing there like an idiot, unable to form a single word.

The paper in my pocket feels like it's burning a hole through my jeans. This stupid Secret Santa game suddenly feels like so much more. Maybe it could be a chance to say all the things I've never been able to voice.

A way to show Mel how I feel without having to stumble over words that always seem to fail me. But the thought of opening myself up like that, even anonymously, sends a jolt of panic through me.

What if she figures out it's me? What if she rejects the gifts, rejects the sentiment behind them? What if I hurt her all over again?

"Hey, handsome," Betty's voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. She's standing in front of me, a plate of freshly baked cookies in her hands. "You look like you could use one of these, hon."

I manage a small smile, taking a cookie with a murmured thanks. The warmth of it seeps into my palm, grounding me in the present moment.

"First time doing the Secret Santa, huh?" Betty asks, her kind eyes twinkling with understanding.

I nod, taking a bite of the cookie to avoid having to speak. It's soft and sweet, reminding me of lazy Sunday mornings at my grandma's house when I was a kid. Before everything went to hell.

Betty pats my arm. "Don't overthink it, sweetie. It's just about spreading a little joy. And Lord knows we could all use more of that these days."

Her words echo in my mind as she moves on to offer cookies to other patrons. Spreading joy. Is that something I'm even capable of anymore?

I finish the cookie, licking a stray chocolate chip from my thumb. My eyes drift back to the pocket holding Mel's name. Maybe... maybe this is my chance to try.

The idea starts taking shape in my mind—small gifts, each carefully chosen to show Mel how well I remember her. How much I've always seen her, even when I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.

I spot Everett across the room, deep in conversation with Sam. He catches my eye and gives me a subtle nod, as if he can read my thoughts. Maybe he can. We've been through enough together that sometimes words aren't necessary between us.

Taking a deep breath, I make my way towards the exit. The noise and warmth of the diner suddenly feel stifling, and I need some air to clear my head.

As I push open the door, the crisp Montana air hits me like a slap to the face. It's grounding, helping to settle the whirlwind of emotions churning inside me.

I pause on the sidewalk, looking up at the star-studded sky. The tiny slip of paper with Mel's name in my pocket feels like both a burden and a gift. A challenge from the universe, daring me to finally face what I've been running from for so long.

I start walking. I've got some planning to do. Because for the first time in years, I'm ready to take a risk. Ready to show Mel —and maybe myself—that I'm not the emotionless statue she thinks I am.

As I disappear into the night, one thought echoes: This Christmas, I'm going to give Melanie Peterson my heart... one gift at a time.