Page 8 of My Secret Santa Daddies

Wyatt chuckles, turning off the engine and glancing over at me. “You know what we need?”

“Basics first,” I say, mentally running through the list in my head. “Some tools, flashlights, extra batteries, maybe some weatherstripping for the windows. We’ll get a proper list together once we have a better look at everything.”

Wyatt nods, climbing out of the truck as Cody strides ahead, eager to get in and out. I follow behind with Jack who keeps yawning. Poor kids, it’s been a long day for him. “We’ll be quick buddy.” I promise him. He nods and starts looking around.

The place hasn’t changed much since I was last here, the aisles are stocked with tools, supplies, and everything else you’d need to survive a winter in the mountains. It’s the kind of place where everyone knows everyone, and everything seems unchanged. Almost frozen in time.

Sure enough, Hank Garrison is standing behind the counter, his usual flannel shirt tucked under a heavy vest, looking exactly the same as he did when we were kids. The bell above the door jingles as we walk in, and Hank’s eyes widen when he sees us. His grin stretches wide, pulling at the wrinkles on his face as he walks out from behind the counter.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, his voice carrying that warm, gravelly tone I remember clearly from all those years ago. “It’s the ghosts of Christmas past. They’ve come to haunt me!” He chuckles, making his way over with open arms.

Cody, ever the charmer, steps forward first, grabbing Hank’s outstretched hand with a hearty shake. “Good to see you, Hank. Thought you might’ve retired by now.”

“Retire? In this town? Hell no, son. If I stopped working, the whole place would fall apart.” He turns his sharp eyes on me, giving me a once over. “And look who’s here, Griffin Winters, back in Silver Ridge. Thought we lost you to the big city for good.”

I give a small smile, taking Hank’s hand in mine. “Not quite. Just needed some time away.” I feel Jack plastered against the back of my leg, hiding.

“And who’s this fine gentleman? Is that your guy, Griffin?”

“Sure is. This is Jack.”

“Welcome, Jack! It’s good to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Jack whispers, peering out with a more inquisitive look.

“Well, it’s damn good to see you three back. Been too long. Heard you bought the old lodge up on the mountain. Quite the project,” Hank says, leaning against the shop counter.

“Yeah, that’s what they keep telling me,” I say, glancing at Cody with a smirk. “But we’ll get it in shape eventually.”

“Good luck with that. That place needs more than a little elbow grease.”

Wyatt joins the conversation, stepping up next to me. “That’s why we’re here. Gonna stock up on what we need before the snow really hits.”

Hank rubs his chin, his grin shifting into something a little more thoughtful. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. I’ve got everything you’ll need for a long winter in that lodge—tools, insulation, chainsaws if you’re cutting wood. You name it.”

Cody leans against the counter, scanning the shelves. “We’ll take the works. Anything to keep us from freezing to death up there.”

Hank chuckles again, giving Cody a friendly slap on the back. “Freezing’s no fun. Let’s see what we can do about that.”

As Hank heads back behind the counter to start gathering the essentials, I take a moment to glance around the store. It’s strange being back, like stepping into a time warp. Nothing’s changed, yet everything feels different.

We split up, grabbing what we need. Cody’s still grumbling about dinner, Wyatt’s making small talk with Hank, as I start filling up the cart. I’d had some furniture sent up in the fall and set up before our vacation. I look over the sledgehammers when I hear Hank ask, “Is he doing okay, after losing Anna?”

“Yeah. He’s alright,” Wyatt responds.

“It’s a shame what happened out there.”

I round the corner into their view, giving them both a smile. “I think we’re all set.”

“Well, if you need anything else, you know where to find me. The store’s open till eight most nights.”

“Thanks, Mr. Garrison,” Wyatt says, handing him cash. Cody starts snacking on a Slim Jim he grabbed off the counter.

Hank gives us one last genuine smile when we walk out the door. “You boys stay out of trouble now, alright?”

“That’s hard for us to do, Hank. You know that” I shout over my shoulder with Jack towing close behind. Cody’s given him the other half of the Slim Jim, and it’s hanging out of his mouth, looking like a skinny cigar.

“You know, you really need to work on your poker face, Griffin,” Wyatt mutters as we leave the store, the bell tinkling behind us.

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