My Secret Santa Axton (Silver Ridge Christmas)

16. Biggest Mistake

Biggest Mistake

AXTON

The fading light of dusk filters through the frost-etched windows, casting long shadows across my cabin. Outside, the world is blanketed in pristine white, the storm's fury having finally begun to wane over Silver Ridge.

The sky is a canvas of deep purples and fiery oranges, the sun's last rays painting the snow-covered landscape in a warm, ethereal glow. As night approaches, the temperature drops further, and I can hear the wind's mournful whistle as it whips around the corners of the cabin, a reminder of the storm's lingering presence.

Inside, the warmth of the dying embers in the fireplace wraps around us like a cocoon, a stark contrast to the icy landscape beyond.

I stand at the stove, my movements careful and deliberate as I prepare breakfast for dinner. The sizzle of bacon and the rich aroma of coffee fill the air.

We slept and made love all day. Only stopping to shower and continue, and Mela needs to eat something.

I steal glances at her, curled up on the couch with a quilt draped over her, and her hair short curls tousled from sleep.

The sight of her there, so at ease in my space, stirs something deep within me. A longing I've spent years trying to bury, now threatening to break free. I swallow hard, forcing my attention back to the task at hand.

I don't want to wake Mel just yet. She needs her rest after last night.

Last night. The memory of her soft skin, her breathy moans, the way she gave herself to me completely... It's seared into my brain. I grip the spatula tighter, trying to focus on the task at hand.

I glance over at Mel, still curled up on the couch. The blanket has slipped down, revealing her bare shoulder. My throat tightens. She looks so peaceful, so vulnerable. A fierce protectiveness surges through me.

I turn back to the stove, cracking eggs into the pan. I want everything to be perfect when she wakes up. It's the least I can do after what she's given me.

The coffee maker gurgles, filling the air with its rich scent. I pour a cup, doctoring it the way Mel likes—two sugars, splash of cream. I set it on the counter to cool, not wanting it to be too hot when she's ready for it.

I plate the food—bacon extra crispy, eggs over easy, just how she prefers. A piece of toast, lightly buttered. I even manage to find some fresh berries in the fridge.

As I work, my mind races. What do I say to her when she wakes up? How do I convey the depth of what I'm feeling without scaring her off? I've never been good with words, especially when it comes to emotions.

But Mel deserves more than my usual silence. She deserves everything. And I want to be the one to give it to her.

I hear her stirring, and my heart rate kicks up.

"Smells good," Mel's voice, still husky from sleep, breaks the silence.

I turn, offering a small smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes. "Figured we could use a decent meal after yesterday."

Yesterday. The word hangs between us, laden with unspoken meaning. The storm, the confessions, the way we'd finally given in to the pull between us. My chest tightens at the memory of Mel in my arms, her skin warm against mine, her lips...

I shake my head, willing the thoughts away. It was a moment of weakness, I tell myself. A beautiful, perfect moment that can never happen again.

Mel joins me at the small kitchen table, her presence both a comfort and a torment. We eat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds the clink of forks against plates and the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

"The storm's let up," Mel observes, glancing out the window. "Looks like we might be able to head back soon."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. The thought of returning to reality, of losing this stolen moment of intimacy, fills me with a mixture of relief and regret.

Mel takes a sip of coffee, her eyes never leaving my face. "The bunkhouse project should be back on track now. Mom and Dad have been amazing, rallying everyone to help out. And with Amir and Zoe..." She trails off, a shadow crossing her features.

"How are they doing?" I ask, genuinely curious. I've seen the way Mel's face lights up when she talks about the kids, the fierce protectiveness that reminds me so much of Steph.

Mel's smile is soft, tinged with sadness. "They're resilient, you know? But they miss their mom. It's hard, seeing them struggle with that uncertainty."

I nod, understanding all too well the pain of an absent parent. I reach across the table, my hand covering hers before I can stop myself. "They're lucky to have you," I say quietly.

For a moment, we're both still, the warmth of the touch spreading through my body like wildfire. I want to pull her close, to promise her the world, to be the man she deserves. But the cold reality of my life, of the dangers that lurk just beyond this peaceful morning, crashes over me like a bucket of ice water.

I withdraw my hand, clearing my throat. "So, uh, any word on Lena?"

Mel's expression shifts, worry creasing her brow. "Nothing concrete. But I found something yesterday, before the storm hit. Some notes she'd left behind."

She reaches into her bag, pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. I take it, my stomach clenching as I read the hastily scrawled words. Shipment dates, locations, and a name that sends a chill down my spine: Ian.

"This Ian," Mel says, her voice low and urgent. "I think he might be connected to Kenzie somehow. She got weird when I mentioned the name."

My mind races, pieces of a puzzle I didn't even know existed falling into place. Ian. Kenzie. The shipments. It's all too coincidental, too close to the work I do with Raven V.

"Ax?" Mel's voice pulls me back to the present. "What is it? Do you know something?"

I meet her gaze, seeing the concern, the trust in her eyes. And in that moment, I know I have to push her away. For her own safety, for the sake of everything I've worked for, I can't let her get any closer to the darkness that surrounds me.

"It's probably nothing," I say, my voice carefully neutral. "But I'll pass it along to Everett, see if he can dig anything up."

Mel frowns, clearly not satisfied with my response. "There's more to it than that, isn't there? Axton, please. I thought after last night, you'd finally start letting me in."

Her words are like a knife to my heart. I stand abruptly, needing space, needing air. "I should get more firewood," I mutter, already heading for the door.

The cold hits me like a physical blow as I step outside, but I welcome it. It helps clear my head, helps me focus on what needs to be done. I make my way to the woodpile, the crunch of snow beneath my boots the only sound in the still morning air.

As I bend to gather an armful of logs, something catches my eye. Footprints, half-obscured by fresh snow, leading from the treeline to a spot just beneath the cabin's window. My blood runs cold, my training kicking in as I scan the area for any sign of movement.

Nothing. But the damage is done. Someone had been watching us, had been close enough to see inside, to hear our conversations. And I know, with a sickening certainty, that it's because of me. Because of the life I lead, the secrets I keep.

I return to the cabin, my resolve hardened. Mel looks up as I enter, her smile fading at the expression on my face.

"What's wrong?" she asks, rising from her seat.

I busy myself with the fire, not meeting her eyes. "Nothing. Just cold out there."

"Bullshit," Mel says, her voice sharp. "Don't do this, Ax. Don't shut me out again."

I turn to face her, my expression carefully blank. "I'm not shutting you out. There's nothing to tell."

Mel takes a step closer, her eyes searching my face. "Why are you lying to me? After everything we've been through, everything we shared last night..."

"This has nothing to do with last night," I say, not wanting to blur the lines between loving her and protecting her.

Mel recoils as if I'd slapped her. "Then what is this about Axton?"

My hands clench at my sides, fighting the urge to reach for her. "Nothing, Melanie. Just drop it."

"Melanie?" Mel's voice rises, anger and hurt warring in her eyes. "The Ice-fucking-King returns with a vengeance."

"Don't be so dramatic, Mel," I say, each word a dagger in my own heart. "I told you my first priority is to protect you."

"From who? You?" Mel laughs, a bitter, broken sound. "So that's it? You're just going to push me away, pretend last night never happened?"

"It's for the best," I say, my voice hollow.

"The best for who, Axton? Because it sure as hell isn't for me." Mel's eyes shine with unshed tears. "I love you. I've loved you for years. And I know somewhere it that twisted brain of yours, you love me too. But you need to get out of your own way."

My plan threatens to break me. But the image of those footprints in the snow, the constant shadow of danger that follows me, strengthens my determination.

"I'm sorry," I say, the words inadequate even to my own ears. "But this is how it has to be."

Mel stares at me for a long moment, hurt and disbelief etched across her features. Then, without a word, she turns and walks to the door. She pauses with her hand on the knob, looking back at me one last time.

"You know what, Axton? You're right. This was a mistake. But not for the reasons you think. The mistake was believing you'd ever let anyone in, that you'd ever be brave enough to love someone more than you love your own pain."

The door closes behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the sudden, oppressive silence of the cabin. I move to the window, watching as Mel's figure grows smaller, swallowed up by the vast expanse of white.

I press my forehead against the cold glass, my breath fogging the pane. The cabin feels emptier than it ever has, the warmth and life Mel brought with her replaced by a hollow ache in my chest.

I've done the right thing, I tell myself. But as I stand there, alone in the growing light of day, I can't shake the feeling that I've just made the biggest mistake of my life.