My Secret Santa Daddies (Silver Ridge Christmas)

1. Sierra

1

SIERRA

S hit. Shit. Shit.

This isn’t good.

Regret immediately pools in my stomach, as I try to fight down the wave of panic rising upward.

A particularly strong gust pushes the car, and I adjust the wheel, trying to stay calm. My parents were right. I should’ve stayed another night, waited out the storm. But I’d been anxious to get back to my own space, away from their concerned looks and not so gentle questions about my love life.

I couldn't handle my mother suggesting I try dating one of the nice men at her church one more time.

I didn’t need them worrying about me any more than they already were.

The road curves sharply, and my headlights catch a glimpse of the steep drop to the right. My stomach tightens as I slow the car down even more, the tires barely gripping the icy pavement.

A flash of memory hits me—headlights, a scream, the sound of metal crunching. Anna’s face, wide-eyed and terrified, just before everything had gone black. I swallow hard, trying to push the image away. But it clings, like it always does, right at the edge of my thoughts. No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, the guilt never really leaves.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the road. Now wasn’t the time. I needed to stay in the moment, keep the car steady. But my hands tremble as the memory tightens its grip, and my heart races like it did that night. The road curves again, sharper this time, and the car’s tires slip.

The car headlights illuminate an overturned truck in the middle of the road, and I slam on the brakes.

Yup, I'd really screwed up this time.

“Shit!” I hiss, yanking the wheel too hard.

The car skids. Time slows as I feel the back end fishtail. I slam on the brakes—stupid, I know—but panic takes over. The car spins out of control, and before I can react, the front tires hit the snowbank with a sickening thud.

The impact throws me forward, and the world outside the windshield disappears in a blur of white. For a moment, everything is eerily silent except for the frantic beating of my heart. I sit frozen, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. My head is killing me, but I’m alright.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, my voice shaking in relief and fear. “Just great.”

I try to calm myself, but my mind keeps spinning. I’m stuck. In the middle of a snowstorm. Alone.

I reach for my phone, hoping to find a signal, but the screen is blank. No bars. Of course.

I let out a shaky breath and lean back in my seat. Think, Sierra, what are your options?

I can wait it out here and hope someone will come along. But given how remote this road is, who knows when that could be? Or... Or I could cross my fingers and try to find help on foot.

The second option sounded terrifying, but what choice did I have? I unbuckle my seatbelt, wincing as my muscles protest. Thankfully the car had stopped at an angle that allowed the driver’s side to be above the ditch. I grab my jacket and earmuffs, stuffing my phone in my pocket, in case I miraculously get a signal later, and step out into the blizzard.

I open the car door, fighting against the biting wind that tries to slam it back in my face. I’m already regretting this as the icy wind rushes in, cutting through my coat like it’s nothing. I give up, letting the door slam back shut with a heavy thud, and lean back in the seat.

“Damn it,” I shout, reaching for my phone. Still no service.

Suddenly, headlights cut through the snow. My heart skips a beat.

Who the hell is out here?

The headlights grow closer, cutting through the thick curtain of snow. I sit up straighter, squinting against the brightness, my pulse quickening. I should feel relieved—someone’s here, maybe they can help—but instead, I feel a knot of dread tightening in my chest.

As the vehicle pulls to a stop, the door swings open, and a tall, built figure becomes visible, looking like someone who had stepped right off a pro football field. Even before I see his face, I know who it is.

Wyatt.

Of all people, it had to be him.

He moves toward my car with an easy confidence, as if the storm is nothing more than a minor inconvenience. His broad frame and the dark beanie pulled low over his blond hair make him impossible to miss. He reaches the driver’s side window and taps on the glass. I roll it down halfway, the chilling cold immediately flooding the small space.

“You alright, ma’am?” his smooth voice breaks over the window.

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out at first. He leans in, his piercing green eyes scanning mine, making my heart beat faster for reasons I’d rather not admit.

“Car slid off the road,” I finally manage to get out, trying to sound casual, though my voice betrays me with a slight tremble. “Can’t get it out.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, glancing at the front of my car half-buried in the snowbank. “You’re lucky you didn’t go over the edge.”

His words hit me harder than I expected. I hadn’t let myself think about that—about how close I had came to another disaster. I turn away, gripping the steering wheel as if it can ground me.

His eyes narrow and he inches closer.

“Sierra?” he asks, recognizing me then. I wish I didn’t know how long it’d been since I last saw him, but it’s been four years and one month almost to the day. Anna’s funeral. I had hugged him, Griffin and Cody goodbye with the promise to see them again soon, but of course it had always been an empty promise. No part of me felt any kind of rush to connect with them.

It’s not that I didn’t want to, I just couldn’t handle those memories.

I grit my teeth, mentally berating myself for even thinking about that day.

“Yeah, it’s me.” I manage past the lump in my throat, meeting his gaze head-on. “Long time, Wyatt.”

Wyatt shifts, his hand resting on the roof of my car as he leans closer. “Sierra, you okay?” His voice is softer now, less gruff.

“Yeah, just peachy.”

“Come on, let’s get you the hell out of here.” He opens the door, reaching his hand out to grab mine.

The last thing I need is for Wyatt to see me struggling. I let go of his hand, brushing snow off my coat as if it’s no big deal that I had just skidded off the road and nearly plunged into a ditch.

He studies me for a second, his eyes narrowing slightly, but says nothing. Instead, he turns and motions toward his truck.

“Get in. I’ll hook up the chain and pull you out.”

“I can help?—”

“You can help by staying warm in the truck.”

His eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I consider pushing back. But the biting cold, combined with the exhaustion creeping into my bones, wins out. Plus, the base of my skull is throbbing painfully.

“Fine.”

I stomp through the snow toward his truck. The wind bites at my face as I yank open the passenger door and climb inside. It’s warm in the cab, the heat blasting from the vents, and for a moment, I just sit there, letting the warmth seep into me.

I glance through the windshield as Wyatt heads to the back of his truck, pulling out a heavy chain like it’s nothing. The snow whips around him, but he moves with that same quiet confidence I remember from before. He hasn’t changed much—tall, solid, with that easy, self-assured presence that always puts people at ease. People, but not me.

I watch as he attaches the chain to the front of my car, his movements quick and practiced. I hate how capable he is, how he just swoops in and takes control like it’s the most natural thing in the world. The wind tugs at his jacket, snow clinging to his hair as he finishes securing the hook to the undercarriage.

Wyatt strides back to his truck, his boots crunching through the snow. The door opens, and the rush of cold air is brief as he climbs in beside me. His scent fills the cab—faintly woodsy, mixed with something warm, like leather and smoke. I press my lips together, willing myself to stay calm as he looks over at me.

“You ready?” he asks, turning the key in the ignition.

I nod, my throat suddenly feeling tight. “Yeah, let’s do this.”

Wyatt shifts the truck into gear, and with a low rumble, we start moving. The tires struggle against the snow at first, but slowly, the truck pulls forward, the chain tightening as it tugs my car free. I grip the seat, glancing through the side mirror as my car emerges from the snowbank, inch by inch. It’s slow going, the truck groaning under the strain, but Wyatt doesn’t rush it.

I shift in my seat, the warmth of the truck doing little to ease the tension in my chest. The silence between us feels heavy, even though we aren’t speaking. Something about being alone in his truck makes the space feel too small, too close. I can’t shake the awkward feeling, like I don’t quite belong here, in this moment with him.

A few tense minutes later, we’re clear of the snowbank, my car now trailing behind us like a reluctant child. Wyatt leans over and cranks the heat.

“Temperature okay?”

I nod, rubbing my hands together, though the warmth is already creeping back into my fingers.

“Thanks for your help,” I say stiffly.

Wyatt glances at me, his green eyes meeting mine for a brief moment before returning back to the road. “No problem. You’re pretty lucky I found you out here.”

I shiver, not entirely from the cold. “Yeah, well, lucky isn’t my middle name.”

I don’t tell him that I don’t believe in luck, not anymore. Not after what happened to her.

I glance out the window, watching the snow pile up, feeling his eyes on me.

“What were you even doing out here in this storm?”

“Coming back from my parents'. Didn’t expect it to get this bad.”

“You should be more careful.”

The words sting a little, but I don’t respond, staring straight ahead instead. He’s always been like that—looking out for everyone, even when they didn’t ask for it. The truck bumps along the road, the silence between us growing heavier with every passing second.

“What are you doing back in Silver Ridge?” I finally ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Wyatt glances over, briefly meeting my eyes before returning his attention to the road. “Griffin and Cody are coming into town for the holiday. Figured I’d join them.”

Griffin and Cody. Of course. My stomach twists at the thought of seeing them again after all this time. Their names hang in the air, making the space between us feel even smaller, more suffocating.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling claustrophobic in the truck. “How have they been?” I ask, trying to play it cool.

“Good.”

“Any particular reason you’re all back?”

“Just the holidays, I guess. Time to catch up, see family, you know the drill. Griffin bought a place out here.”

I wish he would’ve left me to freeze in my car out there. I stiffen at those words and the dull ache in my head doubles in pain.

“He what?”

“Bought the old lodge near the mountain.”

“Well, that’s...nice.” I manage to choke out, turning to keep my gaze out of the window. We crawl past the Welcome to Silver Ridge sign that’s now buried in snow looking like a thick lump jutting out of the ground. I have a million questions buzzing in my head.

I want to know why they’re back. Why now? After all this time. I grind my teeth together, keeping my eyes out the window. It’s not worth prying. The less I know, the better, and I can try my best to avoid them at all costs.

“I can’t believe I’m back,” Wyatt sighs, turning down the road to reach my house. He still remembers the way without hesitation. “And to find you right there on the road,” he continues. “It’s like you were waiting for me.”

“Yeah. I crashed my car in the snowbank just for you.” I mutter sarcastically.

He laughs. It’s a deep, hearty sound that I haven’t heard in years.

“I’ll be in town for a few days, anyway. If you need help with your car, or anything?—”

“I have it under control.” I reply a little sharper than intended. I don’t need his help. I don’t need anyone’s help.

“I didn’t mean to?—”

“I know, I just?—"

Wyatt pulls up in front of my house, the same old place my parents got before I was born. They sold it to me before they headed to the city for retirement. It's a small, two-story bungalow that could use a fresh coat of paint with loose shingles littered across the front lawn. Christmas lights are strewn haphazardly across the eaves, my clumsy attempt at making the place look less depressing.

Wyatt pulls the truck to a stop, the engine still running as we sit there.

I grip the door handle, eager to escape the awkward silence. “Thanks for the ride,” I mutter, already pushing the door open, a blast of cold air hits my face.

“Sierra—”

I pause, turning back to face him. His expression softens, the usual gruffness in his voice replaced by something gentler, almost tender. “Just… be careful, alright?”

I force a smile, though it doesn’t reach my eyes. “I always am.”

He watches me for a moment, his eyes searching mine like he’s trying to find something I’m not willing to give. I can feel the weight of the past pressing down on both of us, unspoken words hanging in the air. But I can’t deal with that now, not when the memories are still so close, so raw.

Without another word, I step out into the snow, the truck door closing with a muted thud behind me. Wyatt doesn’t pull away immediately, but I don’t turn to look back. I just trudge through the snow toward the house, the cold biting at my skin, my heart racing for reasons I can’t explain.

I barely make it to the porch and he’s already disconnected the chain and left my car there on the driveway. I don’t wait, kicking my boots off at my entrance, the sound of the engine fading into the distance. I stand there for a moment, staring out the window at the empty road, wondering how everything suddenly got so complicated.

Griffin. Cody. Wyatt. They’re all back.

And no matter how hard I try to avoid them, I know it will only be a matter of time before our paths cross again.