Page 31 of My Secret Santa Daddies

This isn’t just uncomfortable. It’s dangerous.

I force myself to stand, and shuffle to the kitchen to check my phone, hoping that maybe, miraculously, I’ll have enough signal to call for help. But the screen stares back at me with that same familiar message—No Service—mocking me. I try holding it upto the window, but the storm is too strong, blocking any chance of a signal.

My frustration bubbles over, a bitter laugh escaping my lips as I shove the phone into my pocket. Of course.Of course, this is how tonight would go. Because fate has a sick sense of humor when it comes to me.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dark window, my face pale and drawn, eyes wide and wild, and I hate how small I look, how fragile. I had spent years telling myself that I could survive anything, that I didn’t need anyone’s help. But right now, I was feeling more alone than I have in a long, long time.

The wind howls again, rattling the windows so hard that I half expect it to shatter. And then, as if on cue, the temperature drops even further, and the cold presses in like an icy hand wrapping around my chest.

I swallow hard, glancing at the pile of blankets on the couch, at the dark, empty space that feels colder than ever.

I pace the tiny space of my living room, clutching my coat around me as the chill seeps in deeper, turning my breath into little white puffs. My fingers are stiff, my nose red and raw, and I can’t think straight with the constant shivering.

What the hell am I supposed to do?

I glance at the door, at the swirling snow outside, knowing that I’m stuck here. Knowing that if I leave, I’ll get lost in the blizzard before I make it a mile. But staying here isn’t much better either. It’s a lose-lose, and all I can do is huddle in on myself, and try to fight the rising panic.

I should move somewhere warm like Texas or Mexico.

That sounds nice. No more fucking snow.

The wind howls again, rattling the windows like it’s trying to claw its way inside, and I grit my teeth against the sound, feeling my frustration and fear boil over. I’m trapped, helpless in a way I haven’t felt in years, and I hate it. I hate that I’ve let myselfget into this position. I should have gone to Susan’s, at least I wouldn’t have been alone.

I cross my arms over my chest, feeling the cold seep through the thin layers of my clothes, and close my eyes, trying to keep the panic at bay. But just when I think I can’t stand another minute of this, when I’m about to give in to the urge to scream, a sound cuts through the wind—a pounding knock at the door.

For a second, I think I’m imagining it, that my mind is playing tricks on me in the dark, but then it comes again—three sharp knocks, barely audible over the storm. I freeze, my breath catching in my throat.

“Sierra!” the muffled voice hollers.

I stumble to the door, yanking it open, and am nearly blinded by the swirl of snow and wind that rushes in. Standing there, covered in snow and shivering just as violently as me, isGriffin. And behind him, I can just about make out the shapes of Cody and Wyatt, bundled up in thick coats, their expressions hidden behind scarves and hoods.

“Griffin?” My voice comes out choked filled with disbelief. A desperate sense of relief rushes over me, though I hate to admit it.

He pulls down his scarf, his breath fogging in the air as he looks at me, his face raw with cold.

“Hey, Sierra. We, uh—” He glances back at Wyatt and Cody, who are already stepping forward with shovels in hand.

“Figured you might be freezing your ass off by now.”

“What are you three doing here? Where’s Jack?” I manage, my voice cracking with shock and a hint of something warmer.

“Heard the power went out, and he’s in the car.” Wyatt answers simply, his voice steady despite the storm. “We couldn’t just leave you here, not like this.”

I glance past them to see Griffin’s truck parked on the side of the snow-covered road, its headlights cutting through thedarkness. I want to slam the door shut, to tell them to leave, to stop trying to rescue me. But the cold is seeping in faster than my pride can keep up.

“I’m fi—” I start to say, but Griffin cuts me off, his tone sharper than I expect.

“You’renotfine, Sierra,” he snaps, frustration flashing in his eyes. “You’re stuck here, alone, in the middle of a damn blizzard.”

“We brought shovels,” Cody chimes in, as if that solves everything. “And a thermos of hot chocolate.”

Wyatt rolls his eyes. “As if that’s enough to convince her.”

I swallow hard, torn between stubbornness and the bone-chilling reality of the storm. “You can’t just barge in here.”

“Actually, we can,” Griffin replies, stepping closer, his voice dropping lower. “We’re not leaving until you come with us.”

“Yeah,” Cody adds with a grin. “We didn’t drive all this way just to get yelled at.”

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