My Secret Santa Daddies (Silver Ridge Christmas)

10. Wyatt

10

WYATT

T he wind bites at my face as I step out of the truck, the snow swirling around us like it has a mind of its own. But even with the snow whipping against my cheeks, my attention shifts to Sierra as she climbs out of the truck, her movements stiff, reluctant.

She stands beside me, her arms wrapped around herself.

Her cheeks are flushed from the cold—or maybe from the fact that she’s here, surrounded by people she’s been trying to avoid for years. Griffin and Cody disappear into the lodge, Griffin holds Jack in his arms, sheltering him against the storm, and that leaves me and Sierra lingering in the biting wind, the only sound the crunch of snow underfoot and the low moan of the wind flitting through the pines.

I grab her duffel bag from the bed of the truck, hefting it onto my shoulder.

“This’ll be the second time I’ve saved your ass.”

“Guess I owe you twice now.”

“How about you just promise to stop being so damn stubborn.”

I glance sideways at her, catching the way she’s staring at the lodge like she’s trying to decide whether she can make a run for it. Like she’s still thinking about bolting.

She’s wrapped up tight in that oversized coat of hers, and the sight of her makes something twist low in my gut. The coat is huge, swallowing up her slender frame, the fur-lined hood frames her face and makes her eyes stand out even more—those striking blue eyes that have always been a little too sharp.

Her cheeks are flushed from the cold. She tugs the hood closer, her gloved hands fumbling with the zipper, and I feel a strange urge to reach out, to help her, and touch her, even in the smallest way.

But I don’t.

I stand there, watching her and feel like a complete dumbass.

Her breath mists in the air, a soft cloud that lingers between us, and I can’t help but think of all the times we used to stand like this, back when everything was simpler. Back when she wasn’t wrapped in layers of armor, and neither was I.

She glances up, catching me staring, and for a moment, those blue eyes pierce right through me, sharp and unyielding. But then something softens, just a little—a flicker of warmth that I haven’t seen in years.

And damn if it doesn’t make my chest ache.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this, shouldn’t be letting her get under my skin like this again. But seeing her here, bundled up against the cold; stubborn as ever… it’s like being hit by a wave of something too strong to fight. Something I don’t even want to fight anymore.

“Are you just going to stand there and stare?” she asks, arching a brow, her voice cutting through the thick air between us.

“Maybe I like the view.”

“Jesus Christ. What is it?”

“Sierra,” I start, keeping my voice low, barely louder than the wind. “Did you really think you could weather the blizzard on your own? No power, no heat...?” I trail off, shaking my head. “You’re smarter than that.”

“What was I supposed to do, Wyatt?”

“You could’ve called me.”

“No cell service.”

“I don’t get why you thought freezing in the dark was a better option than accepting a little help.”

“I didn’t ask for help, Wyatt. I never asked you, or Griffin, or Cody to show up like you’re my knights in shining armor.”

I hold up my hands, trying to keep my voice steady, and calm. “I know you didn’t ask, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need it. What were you going to do if the power stayed out all night, huh? You know how dangerous that could have been?”

She looks away, staring out into the dark forest, the snowflakes catching in her hair, making her look almost fragile, like something that could disappear into the storm if I turned my back for even a second. But I know better. Sierra’s never been fragile—just stubborn, fiercely so.

“I had it under control,” she mutters, but there’s no conviction behind the words. “I didn’t need... this.”

I sigh, shifting her bag on my shoulder, trying to keep my own frustration in check. “You don’t have to prove anything, Sierra. Not to us, not to anyone. It’s okay to admit that sometimes you need?—”

“I don’t need anything,” she snaps, turning on me with a glare that cuts through the darkness. But even then, I can see the cracks in her armor from the way her shoulders sag under the weight of everything she’s been carrying. “Not from you, and definitely not from him .”

Like a reflex, my palm grabs her chin stiffly, forcing her gaze to meet my own.

She gasps slightly and the cloud of air rises between her lips as her thin brows pull together.

“Stop it. Stop this bullshit right now with me. You understand? It’s getting on my god damn nerves. When are you going to stop punishing yourself for something that wasn’t your fault? He doesn’t blame you, so why the hell do you think you have any right to blame yourself?”

She looks away again, her cheeks flaming in the cold. “You don’t know a damn thing about it, Wyatt.”

“You’re right. I don’t.” I step back, releasing her as if she burned me. “But I do know that hiding out in a freezing house isn’t going to fix anything. It sure as hell won’t make you a hero.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Wyatt. You gave up that right a long time ago.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes you need someone to tell you to stop being an idiot,” I bite back, my patience fraying in the face of her stubbornness. “Griffin’s not the bad guy here, Sierra. None of us are.”

“Well, you’ve done your good deed for the day, Wyatt. Thanks for the rescue. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to get inside before I freeze to death.”

I nod, swallowing back the words I want to say, the things I know she won’t want to hear. Instead, I just adjust her bag on my shoulder, turning toward the lodge’s front door. “Yeah, alright. Let’s get you inside.”

Cody takes Sierra’s bag from me with a nod, gesturing for her to follow him upstairs.

“Right this way, madam. Welcome to Griffin’s latest project.”

“Yes. The one he decided to dump on Cody and I!” I shout.

That makes her laugh, and when I hear it, I can’t help but smile.

“Don’t mind the mess,” Cody mutters.

“Well, heat and a mess is better than freezing,” Sierra says, trailing behind him. The lodge is still mostly unfinished, the place is a maze of exposed beams and walls half-stripped of their old, peeling wallpaper, but Griffin and I had managed to get a few rooms fixed up to make them somewhat livable before the storm hit. At least enough to keep us from freezing our asses off.

Luckily some of his new furniture had been delivered before any of us showed up.

I hang back, watching as they head up the creaking staircase, Sierra moves cautiously, like she’s afraid she might break something—or maybe she’s just not sure if she wants to go along with this.

She glances around the open living space—the card table shoved against one wall, covered in blueprints and sawdust, Jack’s toy crate is tucked in a corner by the sink. The place reeks of sawdust and no amount of lemon scented Pledge can ever cover it up, but it’s home for now.

“Don’t worry, the floors are solid,” Cody calls over his shoulder, a teasing lilt in his voice that’s probably meant to make her feel at ease, but I can see her stiffen slightly, still on edge.

“I’m not worried. This place is just massive. Even bigger inside than it looks from out there.”

“Yeah. Don’t remind me.”

Cody shoots me a quick look as they reach the top of the stairs, raising an eyebrow as if to ask if I’m coming. I just shake my head and gesture for him to keep going. He can handle getting her settled.

Upstairs, Cody leads her to one of the bedrooms we’ve been using as a storage space during the renovations, but it’s the best we’ve got right now. The walls are stripped down to their studs in some places, the floorboards bare, but at least the window isn’t drafty, and Griffin had the sense to throw a pile of blankets on the bed I’d been using.

It’s about as good as the sleeping arrangements get around here.

The floorboards creak above my head, followed by the sound of the door opening.

“This is... fine,” Sierra’s voice carries through the echoing lodge. She hesitates, then adds, “Thanks, Cody. Really.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. Just get some rest, okay? We’ll deal with everything else in the morning.”

I can almost picture her nodding, even though I can’t see her.

Footsteps thump down the stairs as Cody comes back down, and when he appears at the bottom of the staircase, he looks my way, his expression inscrutable.

“I don’t know if she’ll be coming out anytime soon.”

I shrug, walking over to the pile of wood to get a roaring fire going.

“That’s fine. Griffin’s taken Jack to the other wing of the house to tuck him in for the night.”

It was Cody who insisted we go and check on her. Griffin didn’t say much on the matter. She liked to pretend our past didn’t exist, that we weren’t all best friends once upon a time. But we still know her, we know a lot about her. And we all knew she’d try to stay at that old house, risking her life before asking for help.

I start a fire in the stone hearth, working quickly to coax the logs into flame.

The fire crackles to life, filling the room with a cheery glow and driving back some of the chill seeping through my bones.

Cody drops down onto the leather couch after handing me a beer. “Man, I don’t know what’s going on with her, but she’s been on edge lately. More than usual.”

“I know.” I blow on the flames, coaxing them higher. “I don’t... I don’t think she’s in a good place right now.”

“Yeah, I gathered as much.”

“She would’ve been an icicle by now if we hadn’t stopped by and grabbed her.”

“What the hell was she was thinking.”

“She wasn’t.”

Cody grunts in agreement, and we lapse into a heavy silence, broken only by the pop of the fire and the howling wind outside.

“You think she’s going to be okay?” Cody asks finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

I glance at him, at the worry etched into his features, and I wish I had an answer, any answer that would make this easier. Instead, I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know, man. But she’s not alone anymore. That’s gotta count for something right?”

“Oh sure. If only she actually liked any of us.”

Since the day we met in freshman year of college. We all had our own demons to outrun, our own ghosts, but some unspoken understanding had drawn us together, binding us tighter than blood. But after losing Anna, everything had shifted. Maybe we all wanted to forget.

“She likes us. She does. She’s just being Sierra.”

Cody snorts. “Yeah, well, this is a new level even for her.”

That I can’t argue with.

I add another log to the fire, stoking the flames higher. “I’ll talk to her again in the morning. In the meantime, you and I have the rest of those kitchen cabinets to install.”

“Ugh, joy.” Cody groans, but there’s a hint of humor in his voice now. “You know, for a so-called ‘romantic getaway’, this place sure needs a helluva lot of work.”

“Bitch at Griffin, not me.”

“Alright, alright. But when we’re done with this place, I’m so getting hammered.”

“Fair enough,” I say, clinking my bottle against his. “To surviving the apocalypse, both literal and metaphorical.”

“Amen to that, brother.” Cody takes a long sip. “So, you really gave her your room, huh?”

“She needs it more than I do.”

“Sure, but you didn’t have to. We could’ve put her somewhere else.”

“Nah,” I mutter, rolling my shoulders, feeling the dull ache that’s become a constant companion. “The floor’s fine. Better, even. Helps my back.”

Cody snorts, a knowing grin tugging at his lips. “Yeah, ‘cause sleeping on a mattress was just too luxurious for you.”

“It’s no big deal,” I insist, keeping my voice low as I glance toward the end of the hallway. “I’ve slept in worse places. Remember that time in Colorado, when we camped out under that tarp?”

“Yeah, and you spent the whole night bitching about the cold,” Cody shoots back, grinning. “But sure, man, you’re a real tough guy now.”

“This is different. At least we have a roof over our heads. And no chance of a bear wandering into camp. Or fucking rain.”

“You sure you’re good sleeping on the floor, though?”

I shrug again, rolling my shoulders to loosen the knots that have settled in. “Seriously, I don’t mind. The hard surface is good for my back.”

“You could always bunk up with me.”

“You snore.”

“Just admit it, Wyatt—you’re a softie for Sierra.”

I snort, shoving him lightly on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, don’t go spreading that around, okay?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies. “Now come on. We got work to do.”

By midnight my arms are burning with the effort of holding the cabinets in place, my back throbbing with every movement. The snow outside shows no signs of letting up.

Sierra doesn’t come down once. In fact, I can’t hear a thing from her room, can’t tell if she’s sleeping, reading, or just sitting there, waiting for this whole nightmare to be over.

“Hold that end up,” Griffin mutters, breaking into my thoughts as he wrestles another cabinet into place.

I nod, gripping the heavy wood, wincing as my shoulders protest. “Yeah, got it.”

Cody screws the cabinet into place with a loud whir of the drill, giving us a thumbs-up when it’s secure. “Think that’s the last one for today. Thank God, because if I have to hold one more of these things, I think my arms might fall off.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Griffin gives the newly hung cabinet a final nudge, testing its sturdiness before stepping back. “We’ll finish up tomorrow. No point in overdoing it.”

“Good call,” I agree, rubbing a hand over my aching back. “I’m about ready to pass out anyway.”

We clean up the tools and sweep away the sawdust that’s scattered across the floor.

Griffin and Cody head to their room without much more than a grunt and a wave.

I stay downstairs, easing my stiff muscles down onto the floor by the fireplace. The heat from the flames is a welcome relief, soaking into my sore back.

I tug off my flannel and let the warmth seep into my muscles.

“God, that feels good,” I mutter.

I grab one of the spare blankets, spreading it out beneath me as I settle down on my back, staring up at the shadowy rafters. The fire crackles softly, the glow flickering across the rough-hewn beams, casting long shadows across the room.

“This is better than that bed, Cody. You’re just too much of a bitch to try it.” I mutter to myself.

I let out a long breath, listening to the soft pop of the burning logs.

What the hell are we all doing here, playing house in this half-finished lodge? Trying to act like we’re all just fine, like the past hasn’t come back to bite us all in the ass?

Just as my eyes start to droop, I hear the faint creak of a floorboard behind me.

Soft, almost hesitant footsteps cross the wooden floor, moving toward the kitchen. I crack an eye open, catching a glimpse of a shadow slipping through the dim light.

It’s Sierra. Her hair tousled from sleep—or at least from lying awake upstairs—and she’s wearing an old sweater that’s too big for her, the sleeves pushed up as she moves through the darkness. She freezes when she notices me on the floor, her eyes widen for a second, like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t.

A slow smile pulls at the corner of my mouth as I prop myself up on one elbow, turning to face her. “Midnight snack? Or were you planning on raiding the fridge and running out into the snow?”

“And what if I was?”

“You’d freeze before you made it to the end of the driveway. Besides, you’d miss my company.”

I shift, making room beside the fire, the blanket rustling as I gesture toward the empty space. “Come on, sit for a minute. It’s warmer down here.”

She hesitates.

“What are you worried about?”

“I’m not.”

“Then sit. You can’t avoid us forever.”

The tension in her shoulders loosen just a little, and she steps closer, the firelight catching the strands of her hair, turning them gold.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” she mutters as she lowers herself onto the floor beside me.

I stretch out on my back again, propping myself up on my elbows, close enough to feel the warmth of her presence beside me. “You don’t have to tell me twice. But you didn’t come all the way down here to call me names, did you?”

Sierra shifts beside me, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The firelight dances across her face. She doesn’t answer right away, just stares into the flames like she’s searching for something there, some answer hidden in the embers.

“I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d make some tea or something.”

I raise an eyebrow, letting the silence stretch out for a moment before I speak again. “And here I thought you came down here to keep me company. I’m crushed.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten your hopes up.”

I grin, leaning back further, letting my head rest against the edge of the hearth. “Wouldn’t be the first time, right?”

She rolls her eyes again, but there’s a warmth in the air between us now, something less brittle than before. The fire crackles softly, casting flickering shadows across the old beams overhead, and for a second, it almost feels like old times—like the years that pulled us apart aren’t as deep as they seem.

She glances over at me, her expression guarded but curious. “Why are you on the floor anyway? Did you lose a bet with Cody or something?”

“Nah. Gave my room to you. Seemed like you could use it more.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, Wyatt.”

“Yeah, well, I did. Besides, I like the fire. Helps me think.”

She doesn’t answer right away, just keeps watching the flames, her lips pressed into a thin line. But then she shifts closer, her shoulder brushing mine as she also settles against the edge of the hearth. The touch is light, barely there, but it’s enough to send a jolt through me, a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire.

“You always did think too much,” she whispers.

I turn my head, watching her profile in the glow of the firelight, the way her hair catches the light, and the softness in her eyes that she’s trying to keep hidden. And for a moment, I forget about the years that have passed, the hurt between us, the things we never said. For a moment, it’s just us, the crackling fire, and the snowstorm outside that feels like it could last forever.

“Maybe,” I murmur, my voice dropping low. “But I’m starting to think it’s not always a bad thing.”

Sierra glances up, her eyes meeting mine, and for a heart-stopping second, I think she might say something— do something—but then she looks away, her cheeks flushing.

“I should...” she begins.

“Hey.” I reach out, my fingers brushing her arm lightly before I can stop myself. “Sierra.”

She freezes, half-turning to look at me, her eyes wide and wary in the firelight. And for a moment—just a moment—I see it in her expression, the same longing I feel. The same what ifs ?

But then it’s gone, replaced by the mask she’s worn for so long, the one that says I don’t care and nothing matters.

“It’s late,” she says, her voice cool, distant. “I should... I should probably get some sleep.”

She starts to stand, but my instincts are taking over.

Don’t let her walk away again, they scream at me. Not this time.

My hand slides up, cupping her cheek, my thumb brushing the curve of her jaw, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath my touch. She leans into it, just barely, and the feel of her, so close, so real , sends a rush through me, something wild and urgent.

Her eyes search mine, wide and unguarded for once, like she’s trying to figure out if this is real or just some dream she’s about to wake up from. I don’t know how to tell her that it’s real, that it’s always been real. So instead, I tilt my head, and close the last few inches between us.

My lips brush against hers, tentative at first, like I’m giving her the chance to pull away. But she doesn’t. Her breath mingles with mine, and she lets out a soft exhale that sends a shiver through me. I press a little deeper, tasting the hint of her lips, the lingering warmth of the fire.

And then, like something inside her snaps, she kisses me. It’s not gentle, not careful—it's all heat and urgency, like she’s been holding back for as long as I have, and now that the dam’s broken, there’s no stopping it. Her hands find the front of my shirt, fisting the fabric, pulling me closer, until there’s no space between us, just the press of her body against mine, the heat of the fire wrapping around us both.

Time seems to slow, like we’re suspended in this moment, the two of us, caught in the glow of the firelight and the falling snow.

My fingers edge up that sweater, feeling the softness of her skin.

She arches into my touch, her lips leaving mine to trail hot, open-mouthed kisses down my jawline, and a moan escapes me before I can stop it. Fuck.

The fire roars in the background, sending shadows dancing on the old walls. Her breathing quickens, matching mine.

I want her.

God, I want her.

I always have.

I don’t know how long the kiss lasts—maybe a moment, maybe a lifetime. All I know is that when she finally pulls back, breathless and flushed, her lips are swollen and red from the heat of it. I’m left feeling like the ground beneath me has shifted, like the whole world’s tilted on its axis.

She stares at me, her chest rising and falling with each quick breath, and for once, the mask is gone. It’s just her, raw and vulnerable, her eyes searching mine like she’s looking for an answer to a question she never asked. And I’m right there with her, feeling like I’m on the verge of something that could change everything, something that could break us both open if we let it.

“Sierra,” I murmur, my voice rough with all the things I can’t say, my thumb still brushing the edge of her jaw. “I?—”

She presses a finger to my lips, stopping me, her touch featherlight, but her expression is serious, almost fragile. She shakes her head, just a little, and for a second, I think she’s going to tell me this was a mistake, that she doesn’t want this.

But instead, she whispers, “Just... don’t make it mean more than it does.”

She pulls back further, her eyes shadowed, and then she stands, stepping away from the warmth of the fire, from the space where our breaths mingled. I let my hand drop back to my side, feeling the loss of her warmth like a blow, but I stay quiet, watching as she retreats back toward the darkened stairs.

She pauses at the bottom step, and glances back at me, her expression unreadable in the dim light. “Goodnight, Wyatt,” she murmurs, and then she’s gone, disappearing up the stairs like a shadow slipping through my fingers.