Page 27 of My Secret Santa Daddies

“Since when?”

“Since she realized she could make more money off of us desperate fools,” Cody interjects, laughing.

Wyatt shrugs and turns to Cody. “Well, you gonna tell us who you got, or do we have to play twenty questions all night?”

“No. No. Griffin made it clear. We aren’t sharing names.”

“Yeah, because you don’t want us to know that you drew Mrs. Higgins, the librarian,” I tease.

“Hey, I resent that,” Cody huffs. “Mrs. Higgins has got it going on under those glasses.”

I roll my eyes and head to where there’s more beer. “Whatever you say, man. Whatever you say.”

“I wonder who Sierra got,” Wyatt says, glancing over at her. She’s still talking to Susan near the punch bowl and seems a little more relaxed.

“I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care,” I lie, my heart pounding a little bit faster.

“Right. Uh-huh,” Wyatt drawls. “Just look at us single fools out here, still waiting for our shot.”

Cody nudges him in the ribs. “Cut it out, Romeo. We’re supposed to be brooding bachelors together.”

“Says you and your secret crush on Ms. Higgins,” Wyatt retorts with a wink.

“Dude. It was a joke.”

I down the second beer faster than I should, and it goes straight to my head. The buzz is welcome at first, dulling the sharp edge of anxiety that’s been gnawing at me since I pulled Sierra’s name from that hat. But as the night wears on and I crack open a third, I can feel myself slipping into that old familiar space where everything feels too raw and too exposed.

I’m still sitting there, letting Cody and Wyatt’s banter swirl around me like background noise, but I can’t stop thinking about Sierra. Her laugh echoes in my ears even though I’m not close enough to hear it anymore. Every time I glance over at her, all I can think about is that last fight we had, and how I let her walk away. How I stood there, watching her leave, knowing I’d messed it all up but feeling too damn proud to stop her.

It was right after Anna’s funeral, in the parking lot of the funeral home.

She had told me she hoped to spend the rest of her life never seeing me again.

By the time I reach for my fourth beer, the buzz has turned into a hum of restlessness.

I need to move, do something. Get away from the weight pressing down on me.

“You ok, man?” Cody’s voice cuts through the haze, and I realize I’ve been sitting quietly for too long. He’s watching me closely, his usual easy grin replaced by a look of mild concern. “You’re pounding those back like it’s your job.”

I wave him off. “I’m fine.” I grab a fifth.

Wyatt narrows his eyes, clearly not buying it. “Yeah, you seem real fine.”

I shrug, tipping the bottle back and draining the last of it. “Just enjoying the festivities.”

I feel unsteady on my feet, the alcohol making everything just a little too wobbly, a little too loose. Still, I’m not ready to sit back down. Not with everything swimming in my head.

“Where you going?” Wyatt asks, watching me closely.

“Getting some air,” I mutter, but the truth is, I’m not entirely sure where I’m headed.

I weave my way through the diner, dodging familiar faces and the occasional handshake from people who seem way too happy to see me. Everyone’s in a good mood, full of holiday cheer, and I feel like the odd one out—stuck in my own head, in my own mess.

And then I see her. Sierra. She’s standing near the dessert table, still talking to Susan, a faint smile tugging at her lips. That smile—that damn smile that used to make me forget everything else—flickers something inside me, something I’m not ready to face.

Without thinking, I make a beeline for her. The outside can wait. I’m talking to her tonight.

“Sierra,” I call out, my voice louder than I meant it to be.

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