Page 10 of My Secret Santa Daddies

It was wild, electric. And for a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered. We spent a few weeks tangled up in each other, sneaking off between classes, crashing at each other’s places, keeping it casual because that’s what we both wanted—or at least, that’s what I told myself I wanted. There was no talk of the future, no promises made. Just us, living in the moment, enjoying the ride while it lasted.

And then Anna had came into the picture.

I didn’t mind at first. I knew it was bound to end—whatever we had was never meant to be anything more than a fling. We weren’t in love. I wasn’t looking for commitment, and neither was he.

“There’s not much to say,” I mutter, leaning back in my chair. “Griffin moved on, I guess. They all did.”

“Did you?”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I stare out the window at the snow swirling around, feeling that old weight settle in my chest. “I don’t know if you ever really ‘move on’ from something like that. You just… learn to live with it I guess.”

Susan watches me for a moment, her expression soft. “It’s been four years, Sierra. You don’t have to keep everything bottled up.”

“Who else is going to take care of things if I don’t?”

“You don’t have to take care of everything,” she says quietly. “Especially not alone. What happened with Anna was a tragedy, but you can’t keep blaming yourself for it.”

My throat tightens at the mention of Anna, and I take a deep breath, trying to push down the emotions that start to bubble up whenever I think of her. “I know. I don’t—” I stop, not wanting to dive too deep into the past. It still hurts too much. “I just… I have to keep going, you know?”

“You’ve been ‘keeping going’ for so long that I think you’ve forgotten how to let yourself rest. It’s okay to take a break, Sierra. It’s okay to have fun.”

I let out a weak laugh. “Fun? I don’t even know what that looks like anymore.”

“Which is exactly why you need some,” Susan presses, her eyes softening. “You deserve to do something for yourself. You’ve spent so much time worrying about everyone else. It’s time to focus onyoufor once. Doctor’s orders.”

I raise an eyebrow at her. “Oh, so now it’s a medical prescription, huh?”

“Absolutely.” She sits up straighter, folding her arms with mock seriousness. “Take it easy. Do something fun. That’s my official recommendation.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help smiling. “Like what? I can’t exactly go on a cruise.”

“You could start by coming to the Secret Santa event,” she says with a sly smile. “You know, reconnect with people, have some fun.”

“Not that again. Susan, I’m not in the mood for Secret Santa.”

“Why not? It’ll be fun! Who doesn’t like getting a surprise present? And who knows, maybe you’ll get something meaningful. Something to remind you that life isn’t all work and worries.”

“You know I’m not exactly in the spirit this year.”

“You don’t have to be. Just… try. For yourself. It’s a small thing, but it might help.” She nudges my arm gently. “Come on,what have you got to lose? It’s just one night. Everyone would be so excited to see you there.”

I sigh, knowing she’s right, but the thought of getting involved in something as festive as Secret Santa feels… wrong, somehow. Like I’m betraying all the weight I’ve been carrying. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe I need to set it down, even if just for a night.

“Alright, fine,” I mumble, sitting up straight again. “I’ll think about it. But if it’s a disaster, I’m blaming you.”

Susan grins like she’s already won. “Deal.”

As she gathers her things, I walk her to the door. Snowflakes swirl outside, dusting the porch in a fine layer of white. The wind howls through the pines, shaking them gently like a grandmother rocking her grandchildren to sleep. It’s peaceful here, almost otherworldly.

“Maybe you’re right,” I say, not taking my eyes off the hypnotic dance of the snowflakes. “Maybe Icoulduse a break.”

Susan hugs me one last time before stepping outside. “I knew you’d come around.”

I watch her go, the snowflakes falling harder now, blanketing everything in a layer of white. It’s a small concession, I reason with myself, as I lock the door behind her. But as I turn around and look at the twinkling lights of the town shining through my kitchen window, a flicker of something like hope begins to bloom in my chest.

Suddenly, a knock at the door causes me to freeze.

I pause, mid-step. That’s strange. Susan had just left, and it’s not like I was expecting anyone else. My heart gives a little jolt, but I brush it off. Maybe Susan forgot something and decided to double back.

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