Page 5 of My Secret Santa Daddies

Cody nods. “That’s good.”

But I know it’s not just about Jack. It’s about me, too. About what I’m going to feel when we pull up to that lodge—when I see the town again. The people, and all the places that are tied to my past, and to Sierra, if she’s still here.

Silver Ridge was supposed to be home. The place where Anna and I were going to build our life, and raise our family. Now it’s just a reminder of what I couldn’t hold onto. And I knowthat coming back here means facing those memories—facing the people I had left behind.

“We’ll be there before you know it,” Cody says, as if reading my thoughts.

“Yeah, I know.”

The drive seems to drag on forever though, the miles ticking by too slowly. The closer we get to Silver Ridge, the more my chest tightens.

Finally, theWelcome to Silver Ridgesign looms ahead of us. It looks smaller than I remember, but then again, a lot of things do. The town is exactly as I had left it—quaint and picturesque, like something out of a holiday card.

Except, I’ve changed. A whole lot.

Snow blankets the streets, sidewalks shoveled clean by the hardy residents. Christmas lights twinkle from every storefront and damn light post, casting a warm glow against the darkening sky. It should look festive—inviting even—but all I see is a reminder of what could have been.

“We’re here,” Cody says, turning back to Jack, who stretches half-awake before pressing his face against the cold window.

“Wow, it’s like a snow globe!”

We pass by the diner and the general store, both look exactly the same as they did years ago. Memories assail me at every turn—stolen kisses with Sierra at the Winter Carnival, double-dating with Cody, some girl and Anna at the movies.

But our lives have changed so much since then.

“I need to go pee!” Jack announces.

“Just a few more minutes, bud.”

“How much longer?”

“I said a few more minutes!”

“Ahhhh,” he groans, collapsing into his booster seat.

I follow the directions Cody reads off his phone and soon enough, we’re pulling up the long driveway. For a moment, I justsit in the truck, staring at the dark shape of the building against the snow-covered backdrop. It’s bigger than I remember from when I came up here to finalize the purchase. The old structure stands like a ghost in the middle of the mountains, snow piled high on the slanted roof and the sagging porch.

Jack is already unbuckling his seatbelt, practically bouncing in his seat. “Can I go check it out, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud. Just stay close.”

He scrambles out of the truck, boots crunching in the snow as he races toward the porch. Cody steps out too, pulling bags from the back. For a second, I stay where I am, my hands gripping the steering wheel, my knuckles white.

This is the first time I’ve been back to Silver Ridge since Anna died. I didn’t think it would feel this hard, but it feels like a weight pressing down on my chest, making it hard to breathe. I keep telling myself that this lodge, this place, is supposed to be a fresh start. A new beginning for Jack and me. I bought it because I wanted to give him something different, a place that wasn’t haunted by the memories of the life we lost.

But now, sitting here, staring at the lodge, I can’t help but feel the ghost of Anna everywhere. This was supposed to be our place. We had talked about it for years—moving back to Silver Ridge, buying the old lodge, building a life away from the city, where everything wasn’t so chaotic. It was supposed to be the next chapter of our lives. Then she was gone, and everything we had planned together disappeared with her.

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I’ve spent the last few years trying to move forward, but the truth is, I’ve just been running. Running from the memories, from the pain. But no matter how far I go, it’s still there. In every quiet moment, in every look Jack gives me that reminds me of her. It’s always there.

Jack’s laughter breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. He’s running around the front of the lodge, his cheeks flushed red from the cold, his little boots kicking up snow as he explores the porch. His joy is infectious, and I can’t help but smile. He deserves this—a place where he can just be a kid, without the shadow of grief hanging over him.

“Jesus, why don’t you just pay some people to have this place fixed up?” Cody asks, taking in the sight of the monstrous building.

“I promised I’d do it.”

“Well, we got our work cut out for us.”

The front door swings open, and Wyatt steps out onto the porch, a smirk already forming on his face. He’s bundled up in a thick jacket, arms crossed over his chest, as he leans casually against the doorframe. He doesn’t waste any time.

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