Page 48 of My Secret Santa Clayton

“Hey,” he said, his voice steady and calm.

“Hey,” I echoed.

Clay leaned in and kissed my forehead. “How are you feeling?”

I scoffed. “Not great. The mob is after me, my whole family is in danger, my friends...and it's all because of me. But I'm okay.”

He looked at me for a long moment before he gently lifted my chin. Our eyes met. I felt tears welling up and I tried to blink them back.

“You're not okay at all, are you?” Clay said.

I chuckled, the sound hollow in the quiet room. I wiped my face, smearing away the wetness that had gathered there.

“No,” I admitted, “I'm not okay.”

Clay reached for me. He pulled me against him, and I felt Bear nudge my other hand with his nose before he started licking my fingers gently. I let out a sob, muffled by Clay's shirt as I pressed my face into his chest.

“Want to talk about something else?” Clay asked, his voice rumbling through me.

I nodded, pulling away from Clay's hold. I reached for my camera on the side table. “I've been taking pictures,” I said.

“Show me?”

I powered on the camera and started flipping through the digital album. Bear dominated the frame in most of them, his golden eyes shining with a canine mischief. There were also shots of Clay, standing by the stove, a towel over his shoulder, concentration etched on his face as he did the dishes.

“Look at this one.” I laughed, pointing to a picture where Bear had his nose pressed against the lens, everything else a blur.

Clay smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. He grew silent, studying the screen more intently than the casual snapshots warranted.

“Something wrong?” I asked, feeling the shift in his mood. I clicked the camera off and set it back on the table. Clay's hand found mine, his grip firm.

“Grace,” he started, his voice low, “I need you to know something.”

I looked up at him, my fingers still wrapped in his. I waited.

“I want to protect you,” he said.

I nodded, not sure why he was acting like this was some kind of revelation. “I know,” I replied. “You've been doing that since I got here.”

“No, not just now.” He paused, his thumb running over the back of my hand. “Even after all this. I want to be there for you. I want a life with you.”

His words hung heavy in the air. I bit my lip, searching his face. My heart pounded in a steady rhythm, but I kept silent, letting his blue eyes hold mine.

I couldn’t say anything…because I didn’t even know if I would survive this.

I couldn’t make any promises.

So I did the next best thing.

I leaned in, my lips finding his. The kiss was simple, a soft pressure that said everything I couldn't put into words. His arms came around me, pulling me close, and for a brief moment, the danger outside our door didn't exist.

“Grace,” he whispered against my mouth.

“Clay,” I answered.

We kissed again, deeper this time. He tasted like the tea we'd shared, and under that, something uniquely him—fresh pine and the faintest hint of wood smoke. It was comforting, grounding.

“Stay with me,” he said as we parted, his voice steady.

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