Page 1 of My Secret Santa Daddies

1

SIERRA

Shit. Shit. Shit.

This isn’t good.

Regret immediately pools in my stomach, as I try to fight down the wave of panic rising upward.

A particularly strong gust pushes the car, and I adjust the wheel, trying to stay calm. My parents were right. I should’ve stayed another night, waited out the storm. But I’d been anxious to get back to my own space, away from their concerned looks and not so gentle questions about my love life.

I couldn't handle my mother suggesting I try dating one of the nice men at her church one more time.

I didn’t need them worrying about me any more than they already were.

The road curves sharply, and my headlights catch a glimpse of the steep drop to the right. My stomach tightens as I slow the car down even more, the tires barely gripping the icy pavement.

A flash of memory hits me—headlights, a scream, the sound of metal crunching. Anna’s face, wide-eyed and terrified, just before everything had gone black. I swallow hard, trying to push the image away. But it clings, like it always does, right at the edgeof my thoughts. No matter how many times I tell myself it wasn’t my fault, the guilt never really leaves.

I shake my head, forcing myself to focus on the road. Now wasn’t the time. I needed to stay in the moment, keep the car steady. But my hands tremble as the memory tightens its grip, and my heart races like it did that night. The road curves again, sharper this time, and the car’s tires slip.

The car headlights illuminate an overturned truck in the middle of the road, and I slam on the brakes.

Yup, I'd really screwed up this time.

“Shit!” I hiss, yanking the wheel too hard.

The car skids. Time slows as I feel the back end fishtail. I slam on the brakes—stupid, I know—but panic takes over. The car spins out of control, and before I can react, the front tires hit the snowbank with a sickening thud.

The impact throws me forward, and the world outside the windshield disappears in a blur of white. For a moment, everything is eerily silent except for the frantic beating of my heart. I sit frozen, gripping the wheel so tightly my knuckles ache. My head is killing me, but I’m alright.

“Great,” I mutter under my breath, my voice shaking in relief and fear. “Just great.”

I try to calm myself, but my mind keeps spinning. I’m stuck. In the middle of a snowstorm. Alone.

I reach for my phone, hoping to find a signal, but the screen is blank. No bars. Of course.

I let out a shaky breath and lean back in my seat. Think, Sierra, what are your options?

I can wait it out here and hope someone will come along. But given how remote this road is, who knows when that could be? Or... Or I could cross my fingers and try to find help on foot.

The second option sounded terrifying, but what choice did I have? I unbuckle my seatbelt, wincing as my muscles protest.Thankfully the car had stopped at an angle that allowed the driver’s side to be above the ditch. I grab my jacket and earmuffs, stuffing my phone in my pocket, in case I miraculously get a signal later, and step out into the blizzard.

I open the car door, fighting against the biting wind that tries to slam it back in my face. I’m already regretting this as the icy wind rushes in, cutting through my coat like it’s nothing. I give up, letting the door slam back shut with a heavy thud, and lean back in the seat.

“Damn it,” I shout, reaching for my phone. Still no service.

Suddenly, headlights cut through the snow. My heart skips a beat.

Who the hell is out here?

The headlights grow closer, cutting through the thick curtain of snow. I sit up straighter, squinting against the brightness, my pulse quickening. I should feel relieved—someone’s here, maybe they can help—but instead, I feel a knot of dread tightening in my chest.

As the vehicle pulls to a stop, the door swings open, and a tall, built figure becomes visible, looking like someone who had stepped right off a pro football field. Even before I see his face, I know who it is.

Wyatt.

Of all people, ithadto be him.

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