My Secret Santa Daddies (Silver Ridge Christmas)

12.

12

I WAKE UP WITH WHAT FEELS LIKE THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD PRESSING DOWN ON MY CHEST. THE STORM OUTSIDE IS STILL HOWLING, THE WIND BATTERING THE WINDOWS LIKE IT’S TRYING TO TEAR ITS WAY IN. BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT KEEPS ME PINNED TO THE BED, STARING UP AT THE CEILING

I t’s me. It’s what I’ve done.

I press a hand to my forehead, trying to shake the images swirling in my mind, the memories of Cody’s lips on mine, and the feel of his arms wrapping around me, steadying me like I’m the only thing that mattered in that moment. The way my pulse had raced, and my body had responded without hesitation, without thought.

And then there’s Wyatt. God, what’s wrong with me? Kissing both of them, letting myself get swept away by... whatever this is.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

I sit up, pulling the blanket tighter around me, the cold of the lodge seeping into my bones. It’s not just the chill in the air that makes me shiver—it’s the realization that I’ve crossed lines I swore I’d never cross again. It’s the memories of last night—the firelight, the mistletoe, the heat between Cody and me—and the way Wyatt had looked at me by the truck, like he was seeing something deeper, something real.

What is happening to me?

My fingers tremble as I rake them through my hair, pushing the stray strands out of my face. I never wanted this. I never dreamed I’d be caught between... them . But now, I’m tangled in something that feels beyond my control. Something that makes my heart pound and my thoughts spiral.

It’s not just about them. It’s about everything. It’s about Griffin and Anna. It’s about me trying to figure out who the hell I am without the guilt, and the weight of the past pressing down on me. But now, here I am, stuck in this lodge with Cody, Wyatt, and Griffin, pretending I can handle this.

The truth is, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to sort through the chaos of my feelings—these tangled, impossible feelings for two men who shouldn’t mean anything to me after all this time.

But they do.

I bury my face in my hands, groaning into the silence of the room. Why now? Why is this happening now, when I’ve spent years trying to move on, trying to put my life back together?

And worst of all… what am I supposed to do when it feels like it’s all falling apart again?

The room suddenly feels small, and suffocating. Unable to stand it, I throw off the blanket and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. I need to move, to clear my head before I spiral even further into this mess.

I stand, hugging myself as I make my way to the window. The snow outside is relentless, blanketing everything in thick, swirling drifts.

I lean my forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the white expanse.

I can’t remember the last time I saw this much snow.

I pull on an old sweatshirt from college, tug it down over my hips then slip into a pair of sweats.

With a deep breath, I open the door and head down the stairs, the faint sound of voices drift up from below. Cody, Wyatt, and Griffin are scattered around the room, packing up tools and shifting equipment. Jack is sitting by the newly installed kitchen island, humming Christmas songs to himself as he munches on a piece of toast.

“Morning,” I manage, my voice hoarse from the restless night.

Cody looks up first. As his eyes catch mine, I see something flash in his gaze for a second and I know he’s thinking about last night, too. He offers me a small, lopsided smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Morning. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

Wyatt straightens from where he’s been leaning over a box of tools, his hands coated in dust. He doesn’t say anything. My stomach twists with the memory of his kiss, wild and reckless, and I fight the urge to look away. Does he know I kissed Cody last night? Would he care?

Griffin is the last to notice me, and when he does, he gives me a quick nod.

“We’re heading out to help Betty Thompson with a pipe that burst over at the diner,” he explains. “Apparently, it’s a mess, and she needs as many hands as she can get.”

“I hope everything is okay over there.”

“Should be fine.”

“When will you be back?” I ask.

“Could take a while,” Wyatt sighs, locking up his tool box. “Well into the night, depending on the damage.”

“Just what we need in the middle of a storm, right?” Cody adds with a half-smirk, though there’s no real humor behind it. “Frozen pipes and snowbanks.”

The three of them look like a unit—tight, efficient, and, despite everything, still on the same page. Meanwhile, I feel like an outsider in this lodge, like I’m watching them from behind some invisible line, unable to step across it.

“You mind keeping an eye on the kiddo?” Griffin asks me, his dark eyes settling on me.

I nod quickly, latching onto the opportunity to feel useful. "Of course. We'll be fine here."

I glance over at Jack, who grins up at me with a mouth full of toast crumbs.

“Did you see the tree?”

“I did!”

“Jack’s already got plans to finish building his snow fort outside,” Cody adds, pulling his beanie down over his head. “He’ll keep you busy.”

Griffin finishes zipping his jacket, his gaze lingering on me for just a second longer than necessary. There’s something behind his eyes—something I can’t read, but it makes my chest tighten. “We’ll be back later.”

Wyatt motions to the back patio. “Good news, though. I got the hot tub installed this morning and cleared it off if you want to dip in.”

I press my lips together. “There’s a hot tub here?”

“And a sauna, but that’s not installed yet.”

I roll my eyes, I should’ve known that Griffin was going to go above and beyond and install every gadget and toy available for his oversized vacation home. Typical Griffin.

“Hold the fort down with Sierra, okay buddy?” Griffin says as he ruffles the top of Jack’s head. Quickly, he swats at his father’s massive hand, giggling. Cody gives me a half-smile, my cheeks start to warm as my mind immediately goes to our kiss.

“Come on, we better hurry before ol’Betty freezes.”

“Any update on the power situation in town?” I ask.

“Everyone’s still in the dark except a few folks,” Wyatt sighs. “We’ll drive by your house and check in.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Sierra, it’s on the way,” Cody says, heading to the door.

Some part of me wants to call after them, to tell them to be careful driving in this weather, but the words stick in my throat. It feels silly to be nervous about them leaving, but I can’t shake the knot of anxiety in my stomach as the door closes behind them.

Am I actually worried about them?

Jack tugs on my sleeve, his face bright with excitement. “Sierra, come on! We have to finish the snow fort!”

I smile down at him, pushing the worry aside. “Alright, buddy. Let’s go.”

The day passes in a blur of laughter, snow, and Jack’s boundless energy. We spend hours outside, building walls, packing snow into towers, and creating elaborate tunnels through the fort until Jack declares it perfect . The cold bites at my cheeks, but the joy on his face makes it worth every frozen finger.

By the time we come inside, our boots covered in snow, the sun is already starting to dip below the horizon. Jack’s cheeks are flushed, and he’s still babbling about how we made ‘the best fort ever’ as I help him out of his wet clothes.

I make him a simple dinner—grilled cheese and tomato soup.

After dinner and a bath, we sit by the fire, and I read him a story while he curls up cozily in a blanket, his eyelids growing heavy with each passing minute. His mug of hot chocolate is half empty, still steaming out of the cup.

“Okay. I think it’s time for bed, buddy.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Your eyes are closed.”

“I’m resting them.”

“Alright. Let’s go.” I scoop him into my arms, keeping him wrapped up as I carry him up the long staircase.

When it’s finally time to put him to bed, I tuck him in, pulling the blankets up to his chin. He yawns, his eyes already half-closed, but as I lean down to kiss his forehead, he looks up at me, his expression suddenly serious.

“Sierra?”

“Yeah, buddy?” I say, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead.

“I really want a mom for Christmas,” he whispers, his voice small, and fragile. “Do you think Santa can bring me one?”

I freeze, unsure of how to respond.

For a moment, all I can do is stare down at him as he looks up at me with eyes full of trust and expectation.

“Jack…” I begin, my voice faltering. “I?—”

He blinks up at me, his eyes wide and hopeful. “Santa can do anything, right?”

I force a smile, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Santa can do a lot of things,” I say softly, stroking his hair. “But sometimes... the things we want most take a little more time.”

“Okay. Maybe next year.”

“Maybe next year, buddy.”

I sit with him for a moment longer, watching him drift off to sleep, the rise and fall of his tiny chest feels so steady, so peaceful. But inside, I feel anything but calm. His words linger in the air.

I want a mom for Christmas.

I stand and slip out of the room, quietly closing the door behind me.

The lodge feels too quiet now, too big, and the weight of the last few days—the storm, the kisses, Jack’s innocent wish—it all presses down on me, making it hard to breathe.

I lean against the wall, closing my eyes, and wonder how the hell I’m supposed to make any of this right.

I open my eyes, staring at the hallway stretching out before me, the flickering glow of the fireplace casting long shadows along the walls. The tension in my shoulders feels unbearable, like it’s coiled too tight to release. I need something, anything , to clear my head before I drown in all of this.

My eyes flick toward the back patio. The hot tub. Wyatt had mentioned it earlier.

The thought of sinking into warm water, letting it ease the ache in my body, sounds like the only thing that might help me breathe again.

Before I can overthink it, I head down toward it, grabbing a towel along the way. It’s only eight o’clock. The guys said it was going to take them a long while.

The cold air hits me like a slap when I open the back door. The snow is still falling steadily, and the wind whistles fiercely through the trees, but the thought of the hot water soothes me enough to push forward.

I step outside, the cold biting at my skin as I make my way across the deck to the hot tub. Wyatt really did clear it off—the cover has been pushed back, and steam is rising into the air, beckoning me closer. I peel off each layer of clothing quickly.

I drop my towel and slip into the water, the heat instantly wraps around me, chasing away the cold. I lean back, sinking lower until the water covers my shoulders, and let out a long, slow breath as the tension begins to melt away.

For a moment, I just sit there, listening to the distant hum of the wind howling through the trees.

The heated water is like a luxurious blanket, washing over my skin. I sink even lower, letting the top of the water crawl up my neck, and a long sigh escapes my throat.

The warmth seeps into my muscles, relaxing the knots I didn’t realize I’d been holding onto and my mind begins to drift.

“Oh, Sierra,” I whisper to myself. What’s going on?

I close my eyes. Immediately, flashes of Wyatt and Cody race through my mind in a sudden blur, the heat of their lips and the feel of their hands.

I squeeze my eyes shut tighter, trying to block out the memories, but they persist, vivid and relentless. Wyatt's lips on mine by the fireplace, the heat of his body pressing into me, the urgency in his kiss. Cody's strong arms catching me, holding me against him. I wanted them both so much.

I wanted them to just say, fuck it, and have their way with me. I haven’t had sex in a long while and God, did it feel good to taste them, feel them.

My hands slip beneath the surface of the water, trailing down my stomach as the memories flood through me. I imagine it's their hands on me, exploring, teasing. Cody's calloused fingers skimming my ribcage, Wyatt's warm palm cupping my breast.

I gasp, the sound swallowed by the howling wind, as my fingers dip lower, seeking the heat building between my thighs.

I picture Cody's lopsided grin, and the way his eyes darken with desire when he kisses me. I imagine Wyatt's intense gaze boring into me as he pulls me flush against him. I ached for their touch, for the slide of their skin against mine, even as guilt twists me up inside.

I circle my clit, hips rocking into my own touch, my breath coming faster as the fantasy plays out behind my closed lids.

Cody's mouth trailing hot kisses down my throat while Wyatt's hands grip my hips, pulling me onto his lap. Both of them wanting me, taking me, making me theirs together…

A low moan slips from my lips and I move faster, chasing the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. The hot water laps at my breasts, its caress only fueling the fire inside me. I’m so close, teetering on the razor's edge.

My fingers move faster, more urgently, as the fantasy consumes me. I picture Cody's hands gripping my thighs, spreading me wide as he settles inside of me. Wyatt's lips skim my collarbone, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. Their touches are electric, setting every nerve ending ablaze.

I arch into my own touch, hips lifting out of the water as I touch myself. Soft whimpers fall from my lips, lost to the wind.

It's wrong, so wrong to imagine them like this, but I can't stop. The pleasure is too intense, my need to be fucked too overwhelming.

In my mind, Cody's fingers join mine, slipping inside my aching core while his thumb presses against my clit. Wyatt's large hands cup my breasts, rolling my nipples between his fingers.

They moan as they take turns thrusting into me, filling me all the way.

"Please," I gasp, the word a desperate plea. "Don't stop..."

And they don't. Cody pumps faster as Wyatt pinches my nipples and slams his hips into me. It's too much, the sensations overwhelm me from all sides.

With a sharp cry, I shatter, my body convulses as my orgasm rips through me. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over me, stealing my breath and blurring my vision.