Page 55 of My Secret Santa Clayton

Grace nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes, I'm sure.”

My chest tightened, the air in the diner feeling suddenly too warm, too still. All this time, I'd half expected her to charge ahead with that stubborn streak of hers. But she was letting go.

“Good,” I said. The word came out more gruff than I intended, but there it was. “Mariah needs you safe. Hell, I need you safe.”

She nodded, her face telling a story of its own. Conflict played across her features, the lines around her eyes deeper than usual. I knew this meant a lot to her—and I knew that when she got a hold of the truth, she would be like a dog with a bone until she got it out. She bit her lip, glanced away, and then met my gaze once more.

“That’s why I’m doing this,” she said. “It's not just about me anymore. It's about keeping Mariah safe.” She paused for amoment and then added, “And you, Clay. And Bear and...well, everyone.”

I clenched my jaw as Grace mentioned my safety. A storm of emotions rolled through me, a clash of surprise and vulnerability I hadn't felt in ages. She had pulled me back into her orbit, and I wasn't sure if I could find stable ground.

I should have been the one protecting her, not the other way around.

She was stronger than I’d ever given her credit for…and more loyal, too.

“Thank you, Grace,” Mariah said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you.”

I watched, silent, my hands clasped on the table, watching them. It felt strange, being on the outside looking in at such an intimate moment. The scene before me was picture-perfect, the kind of thing you'd see in one of those feel-good family movies. And that's what got to me the most. It was perfect.

Too perfect.

“Grace,” I started, my voice betraying nothing of the unease twisting inside me. “You think this is the right move?”

She looked at me, her brown eyes clear and steady. “Yes, Clay,” she replied. “For Mariah, for all of us.”

“Alright,” I said, trying to sound as convinced as she did. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. This kind of peace, this resolution, it didn't come easy or without a cost.

And in a town like ours, where shadows clung a little too tightly, a happy ending was never guaranteed.

TWENTY-FIVE

Grace

The car's tires crunched over the snow-packed road as Clay steered us farther into the mountains, back to his cabin. I glanced at him, his profile stoic against the backdrop of frosted pines and snow. The heater in the old pickup truck worked overtime, fighting off the chill that had settled inside the cab.

“Deputy Langley will keep an eye on Mariah, right? We can trust him?” I said.

“Yeah,” Clay replied, his eyes never leaving the road. “She'll be safe.”

I nodded, though a knot of worry remained lodged in my stomach. Safety felt far away, even after looping in the authorities.

“Still doesn't feel right, leaving her,” I added, tugging the sleeves of my coat over my hands.

“Sometimes the best move is the hardest one to make,” he said, his voice low but clear.

I watched the way his jaw tensed as he spoke, the muscles working beneath the skin.

“Clay, do you think they'll come after me?” I asked, needing to hear his thoughts. “Now that it’s with the cops…I don’t know.I think I felt some semblance of control before, and now it’s all chaos.”

“Don’t worry, Grace,” he answered, his hand gripping the steering wheel tighter. “If they come after you, I’ll be waiting.”

The sight of large snowbanks lining the roadside reminded me just how isolated we were up here. In any other circumstance, I might have found it beautiful—the untouched expanse of white, the way the trees held their heavy burdens of snow. But now, it felt like nature itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to shatter the silence.

“Thanks for doing this. For helping me,” I said, turning away from the window to look at him again.

“Always,” he responded, and I caught a glimpse of something in his eyes before he quickly looked away, focusing back on the treacherous path ahead.

As the car pulled into the clearing where Clay's cabin stood, I cleared my throat. “Clay, am I doing the right thing here?”

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