Page 12 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“About as well as could be expected,” I said. “She hates me, and I’m not one to forgive. We’ll probably keep sparring through Christmas, then I’ll steer clear of her.”

“I’m surprised she’s even back this long,” Kat said. “Mariah and I know each other from school and she’s always said Grace ran away and never looked back.”

“She promised she would,” I said. “You know what she’s been up to?”

“Just what Mariah has told me,” Kat said. “She loves bragging about her sister. Said Grace did some time reporting from the Middle East, then she came back to Boston to start working a crime beat. Won a big award photographing soldiers and their dogs…she’s impressive. But cold. I’ve never really had a conversation with her.”

“Crime beat, huh?” I murmured, picturing Grace with her camera and notepad, diving headfirst into whatever story came her way. It was so like her to chase after the truth, no matter how dangerous.

“Yep. But she's been tight-lipped about the details,” Kat added, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Hasn’t been home in ages. Mariah says she keeps to herself mostly.”

“Kinda odd seeing Grace like this,” Gabe mused, scratching at his stubble. “She used to light up a room, now she looks like she's ready to bolt at any noise. I was a bit behind you two, but she was a real crowd pleaser, right?”

“Missing her family, maybe?” Kat suggested, dropping into a crouch to retie her boot. “Just Mariah and her now since…”

“Since her mom and dad passed, yeah.” Gabe nodded solemnly. “That'd shake anyone.”

“Maybe,” I grunted, not buying it. The Grace I knew wasn't one to get rattled easily, even by grief.

No, something else was eating at her.

“I might know what that’s about,” I started, hesitating before continuing. “She ran into me while I was out for a run in Whispering Pines the other day, losing her shit, saying someone was following her. She brushed it off and said she was just being paranoid, but I found some tracks on the path later. Not your usual hiker's treads, heavier. Thought nothing of it at first, but…”

Gabe straightened up. “You think that's got something to do with Grace being jumpy?”

“Could be nothing,” I admitted, though my gut said different. “But my spidey senses are buzzing.”

“Then you might want to talk to her,” Gabe said, crossing his arms. “If there's trouble, better to face it head-on.”

“He’s right,” Kat said. “We know better than most that Silver Ridge has its demons.”

“But am I really the one to help her?” I said. “Grace doesn’t want to talk to me. Hell, she wouldn’t even spit on me if I was on fire.”

“Clay,” Kat started, and I knew that tone. It was the 'big sister' voice she used when she thought I was being pig-headed—ironic, given I was the oldest one here. “You two have history, sure. But doesn't mean you can't help her out if she's in a bind.”

“Help her?” My laugh was a bark, sharp and cynical. “After what she did?”

“Maybe it's not about that,” she pressed, her gaze steady. “Maybe it's about doing the right thing, despite all that.”

I scoffed, shaking my head while the image of Grace, fierce and fiery as always, flashed across my mind. The right thing had a funny way of looking like a one-way ticket to more heartache.

“Fine,” I snapped, more at myself than at Kat. “I'll talk to her.”

“Good.” She clapped my shoulder, and I felt the weight of whatever this 'good deed' would cost me. “Just…don't go starting World War Three, alright?”

“Promises, promises,” I muttered, already plotting my approach. Talking to Grace wouldn't be easy—not by a long shot. But if she needed help, I couldn’t just stand by.

I needed to save her.

Even after all these years.

SIX

Grace

I sent a spray of water up from the slushy melting snow as I pulled out of the parking lot at the general store and started driving through Silver Ridge.

“Ridiculous,” I muttered, glaring at the obnoxiously large Christmas tree dominating the town square. It was decked out in a gaudy array of lights and tinsel that sparkled mockingly under the gray sky. The sound of laughter floated across the lake where families skated in circles, blissfully unaware of anything outside their picture-perfect moment.

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