Page 46 of My Secret Santa Daddies

“I— I should go,” she stammers, her voice low and shaky. Without meeting my eyes, she bolts for the stairs, leaving me sitting on the couch, hard as a mother fucking rock.

12

I WAKE UP WITH WHAT FEELS LIKE THE WEIGHT OF THE WORLD PRESSING DOWN ON MY CHEST. THE STORM OUTSIDE IS STILL HOWLING, THE WIND BATTERING THE WINDOWS LIKE IT’S TRYING TO TEAR ITS WAY IN. BUT THAT’S NOT WHAT KEEPS ME PINNED TO THE BED, STARING UP AT THE CEILING

It’s me. It’s what I’ve done.

I press a hand to my forehead, trying to shake the images swirling in my mind, the memories of Cody’s lips on mine, and the feel of his arms wrapping around me, steadying me like I’m the only thing that mattered in that moment. The way my pulse had raced, and my body had responded without hesitation, without thought.

And then there’s Wyatt. God, what’swrongwith me? Kissing both of them, letting myself get swept away by... whatever this is.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

I sit up, pulling the blanket tighter around me, the cold of the lodge seeping into my bones. It’s not just the chill in the air that makes me shiver—it’s the realization that I’ve crossed lines I swore I’d never cross again. It’s the memories of last night—the firelight, the mistletoe, the heat between Cody and me—andthe way Wyatt had looked at me by the truck, like he was seeing something deeper, something real.

What is happening to me?

My fingers tremble as I rake them through my hair, pushing the stray strands out of my face. I never wanted this. I never dreamed I’d be caught between...them. But now, I’m tangled in something that feels beyond my control. Something that makes my heart pound and my thoughts spiral.

It’s not just about them. It’s about everything. It’s about Griffin and Anna. It’s about me trying to figure out who the hell I am without the guilt, and the weight of the past pressing down on me. But now, here I am, stuck in this lodge with Cody, Wyatt, and Griffin, pretending I can handle this.

The truth is, I don’t know what I want. I don’t know how to sort through the chaos of my feelings—these tangled, impossible feelings for two men who shouldn’t mean anything to me after all this time.

But they do.

I bury my face in my hands, groaning into the silence of the room.Why now?Why is this happening now, when I’ve spent years trying to move on, trying to put my life back together?

And worst of all… what am I supposed to do when it feels like it’s all falling apart again?

The room suddenly feels small, and suffocating. Unable to stand it, I throw off the blanket and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, my bare feet hitting the cold wooden floor. I need to move, to clear my head before I spiral even further into this mess.

I stand, hugging myself as I make my way to the window. The snow outside is relentless, blanketing everything in thick, swirling drifts.

I lean my forehead against the cold glass, staring out into the white expanse.

I can’t remember the last time I saw this much snow.

I pull on an old sweatshirt from college, tug it down over my hips then slip into a pair of sweats.

With a deep breath, I open the door and head down the stairs, the faint sound of voices drift up from below. Cody, Wyatt, and Griffin are scattered around the room, packing up tools and shifting equipment. Jack is sitting by the newly installed kitchen island, humming Christmas songs to himself as he munches on a piece of toast.

“Morning,” I manage, my voice hoarse from the restless night.

Cody looks up first. As his eyes catch mine, I see something flash in his gaze for a second and I know he’s thinking about last night, too. He offers me a small, lopsided smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Morning. Sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” I lie.

Wyatt straightens from where he’s been leaning over a box of tools, his hands coated in dust. He doesn’t say anything. My stomach twists with the memory of his kiss, wild and reckless, and I fight the urge to look away. Does he know I kissed Cody last night? Would he care?

Griffin is the last to notice me, and when he does, he gives me a quick nod.

“We’re heading out to help Betty Thompson with a pipe that burst over at the diner,” he explains. “Apparently, it’s a mess, and she needs as many hands as she can get.”

“I hope everything is okay over there.”

“Should be fine.”

“When will you be back?” I ask.

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