Page 75 of My Secret Santa Clayton

THIRTY-FIVE

Grace

I held Mariah's baby close.

What a fucking day…I’d started it off happy and in bed with the man I loved, then I’d been tied up, tortured…and now I was here.

Holding my healthy, sleeping niece.

The lights gave off a soft glow, and the machines hummed in the background, but none of it touched the tranquility that came over me. The little one, so tiny and pink in my arms, seemed untouched by the chaos of her arrival. My heart felt full as I stared down at her peaceful face.

“She's beautiful,” I whispered. Mariah lay in her bed, looking worn out yet glowing. She smiled, and even from a distance, I could see the shine of motherhood in her eyes. Colt stood near, watching us with a look that said he held the world in that room.

“You did it,” I told her. “You're amazing.”

Mariah reached out and took my hand. “We both did,” she said. “You made it through, Grace. That’s what matters.”

I nodded, though a shiver passed through me. I was sore, each muscle protesting even being awake. I looked down at the baby as she cooed softly, a sound of pure innocence. In thatmoment, I let myself feel the weight of her small body, the reality of her presence.

It was good. It was real.

I shifted in the chair, my arms aching as I cradled Mariah's baby. The pain in my wrists pulsed with each heartbeat, a reminder of the ropes that had bound them not long ago. I glanced at Clay, his steady blue eyes watching me.

“I’m exhausted,” I whispered.

Mariah reached out, her fingers brushing against mine as I handed her daughter back into her waiting arms. She nodded, understanding passing between us without words. I swayed slightly, even sitting upright in the wheelchair an effort. Clay stepped closer, his hand finding my elbow, grounding me.

“Let's get you home,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied.

A nurse came outside with us to help me into the truck, giving Clay another set of bandages and some pain meds. They’d fixed me up—no serious injuries—but the exhaustion and trauma was enough to knock me the fuck out. The truck door opened with a soft creaking sound, and Clay helped me inside. The seat was cold against my skin, but his presence filled the space with warmth. As he started the engine, the silence enveloped us, a comforting blanket that required no words.

Outside, snowflakes swirled in the headlights, transforming the world into a whirling snow globe. Shadows of trees lined the road, their branches heavy with white. My eyelids drooped, fatigue pulling them down.

“Rest,” Clay said, his voice low and steady. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”

“Thank you,” I managed to say, my gratitude profound yet simple in its delivery.

The hum of the tires on the snowy road played a rhythmic lullaby, inviting the sleep I had fought against. A part of mewanted to resist, to stay alert, but the other part—the part that trusted Clay implicitly—whispered that it was okay to let go.

And so, I did.

I didn’t wake again until we pulled up to Clay's cabin, the engine falling silent as he killed the ignition. Bear bounded up to us as soon as we walked through the front door, tail wagging. He panted with excitement, greeting us like we were returning from war rather than the hospital.

Well…it kind of felt like we were.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, reaching out a hand to ruffle his fur.

He whined happily, like he’d known we might never see each other again.

I was so, so glad I was back.

The scent of wood smoke and pine hit me as we crossed the threshold. It was welcoming, familiar in a way that soothed the raw edges of my nerves.

“Feels good to be inside,” I commented.

“Better than the hospital,” Clay replied, shutting the door and sealing us inside the safety of his cabin.

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