Page 20 of My Secret Santa Clayton

We headed to my truck, the silence between us edged with past hurt. She climbed in without a word, and I followed suit, starting the engine and cranking up the heat. The windshield wipers began their monotonous dance, clearing away the steadily falling snow as I pulled onto the road. Grace sat stiff as a board, her gaze fixed on the dash, the tight line of her mouth telling me she was about as thrilled with this situation as I was.

“Look,” I said, pulling onto the main road, “I'm not keen on sticking around either.”

“Fine,” she muttered, folding her arms across her chest.

“Great,” I replied, keeping my tone flat. No point in stirring up old drama.

The dashboard clock glowed 8:02 PM as we drove in silence through Silver Ridge. The Christmas lights draped across every storefront and lamppost should've felt cozy, familiar. Instead, they cast long shadows that played tricks on my eyes, making me see things I'd rather forget.

“Remember when you used to love this?” Grace broke the silence, her voice almost wistful.

“Used to,” I admitted. My brother had loved Christmas. Without him, the festive cheer just felt like salt in a wound.

“Sorry,” she said quickly, turning away to look out the window, her breath fogging up the glass.

“Nothing to be sorry for,” I said, focusing on the road ahead. The snow had started to fall harder now, the flakes swirling in the glow of the streetlights.

“Right.” Her reply was short, clipped.

Once we got out of town I flicked on the high beams, cutting through the thickening snowfall. The road ahead was almost deserted, save for a few tire tracks that were quickly filling in.

“Mariah says you're playing hero around town these days.” Grace's voice was quiet, hesitant.

“Hero's a bit strong,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road. “Just picked up some useful skills in the Marines. Got lucky with a business venture or two. Made sense to give back where I could.”

She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her usual bite was gone. “For what it's worth, I'm proud of you.”

My throat tightened. When we were kids, we’d talked about getting out of the gutter together. Both of our families had beenpoor, but Grace had big dreams…and I loved her. All I wanted to do was support her.

The military had never been part of the plan.

Not until she cheated.

I glanced at her briefly, catching her eyes darting away. “You should be proud too. Not everyone breaks free from the mud they grew up in.”

We fell back into silence, the wipers keeping time with my heartbeat, or so it seemed. With every sweep of snow from the windshield, I felt the distance between us grow, measured not just in miles now, but in years and unspoken words.

I snuck a glance at Grace, her face caught in the glow from the streetlights we passed. She had that same look she used to, staring out the window like she was trying to solve some puzzle only she could see. It was like I was caught in a time warp, seeing her at eighteen—hair shorn into a pixie, big brown eyes staring at me, pink gloss on her lips.

Fuck, I loved that girl.

I wondered if the girl she was had vanished completely…or if she was still in there.

“Almost there,” I said. We were in her neighborhood now, the same neighborhood she’d lived in when I drove her home after football games and movie nights.

“Thanks, Clay.” Her voice was soft, maybe grateful, but it was hard to tell with Grace.

I couldn’t help myself, now that we were actually talking, I blurted out a memory, instantly chastising myself for it. “Remember that summer when my truck broke down? You nearly throttled me.”

“Ha! How could I forget?” She laughed, and it was like music, like it was back then. “You were so damn cocky. 'It'll hold up,' you said. And where did that get us? Stranded in the middle of nowhere, soaking wet after an impromptu swim.”

“Hey, you agreed to come along. Besides, wasn't all bad, was it?” I ribbed her, nudging her shoulder lightly, trying to keep the mood light.

“Sure, if you ignored the mosquitoes and the fact that we had to walk five miles back to town.” Grace snorted, her breath fogging up the windshield. “That rust bucket had been making that rattling sound for weeks, and like…obviously, I couldn't fix it. Then you drive us out to the middle of nowhere, and your damn truck breaks down with us half-naked and soaked.” She paused, a smirk playing on her lips. “Maybe I should've…”

Her voice trailed off, and she turned her head towards me, her eyes locking onto mine. Something flickered in those brown depths—a spark of the old fire, maybe. We were in her driveway now, but she wasn’t getting out of the car.

Her lips parted slightly as if she was on the cusp of letting something slip.

---