Page 14 of My Secret Santa Clayton

My palms were slick against the steering wheel as I took myself and the sedan on a little mini-tour of my childhood neighborhood. They weren’t riding my ass or anything…just following.

Or driving home.

I needed to remember they could just be driving home, and maybe I was crazy, but?—

The sedan took a right at a cul-de-sac, and I slow rolled along the street to make sure they stayed there. I kept my eyes trained on the street, grabbing my phone, ready to call the cops if I needed to…

But they stayed there.

I turned around and scoped it out, and saw a couple getting out and laughing together as they walked into one of the small houses at the end of the street, carrying groceries. Yeah, I was being crazy. They hadn’t been following me, they were just living their lives.

I was safe here. I had to remember that.

No one was going to follow me all the way to Silver Ridge.

SEVEN

Clay

I tossed the ball across the frosty expanse, watching Bear chase it down with the kind of single-minded determination that I wished I could muster for anything these days. Silver Ridge Park was buzzing with pre-Christmas activity; folks were stringing up lights and decorations around every tree and lamppost.

“Go get it, boy,” I encouraged, my breath misting in the cold air. Bear bounded back, a streak of black against the white snow, his tail wagging.

“Good boy,” I said as he dropped the slobber-coated ball at my feet.

My eyes drifted to the frozen lake where some brave souls had swapped their work boots for skates, gliding over the ice. Laughter floated through the air, chased by the scent of pine and fresh snow.

But it didn’t sit right.

It took me back to another day on this very lake—hotter than hell, Mike’s laughter cutting sharply before it turned to silence. The four of us had hijacked a friend’s boat like fucking delinquents—me, Mike, his girlfriend Sierra…and Grace.

I could still hear the thud of his head hitting the boat deck.

Too much booze, too much of everything, except time.

Time we thought we had in spades.

Bear flopped down beside me, panting, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

“Hey, Bear, what d'you say we grab a bite?” I asked, scratching him behind the ears. Bear answered by getting up, ready for the next thing, always looking forward. “Come on then.”

We walked to Millie's Diner, the bell jingling above the door. Bear made straight for his usual spot by the counter, the one with the scuff marks from his claws. Betty was there in a flash, a plate of bacon scraps at the ready. She dumped them into Bear's eagerly waiting mouth with a chuckle that seemed to shake her whole body.

“Special treat for Bear today,” she said, beaming down at him. “He's earned it, hasn't he?”

“Seems like he has,” I replied, keeping my voice level, though a smile threatened at the edges. Bear had always been good at winning people over—far better than I ever was.

Betty leaned in, her eyes flicking up to the festive flyer taped haphazardly next to the daily specials board. “Speaking of treats, Silver Ridge's Christmas party is coming up.” She tapped the paper with a flour-dusted finger. “Made the flyers myself. It's going to be a real hoot this year.”

“Looks…colorful,” I said, noting the excessive amount of glitter and clipart Santas.

“You’ll be there, right? It’s the big kickoff party.” Her tone shifted toward insistence, and she gave me that look—like I was a stray she’d taken in out of pity.

“For Christmas?”

“Of course.”

I frowned. “Thought that was the Secret Santa thing…”

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