Page 21 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Riley

The snow in town had turned to slush over the last few weeks since I’d been hanging out at the inn, and the mid-December trees wore coats of frost instead of ice.

Here, everything moved slower… quieter than I was used to. Like the world was still holding its breath after the storm.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed the stillness until I had it.

Thank goodness Lucy had been able to work from home—well, work from here—since the storm. Nancy had insisted on giving us a good deal on the room at the inn, said it was the least she could do after everything the Wolfe family had done for her over the years.

Apparently, being beloved by Medford royalty came with perks.

Tonight, me and my bestie were on our second mug of peppermint cocoa and our third bad Christmas movie. The kind with terrible green screen snow and a plot so predictable you could write it in your sleep.

Lucy was curled up at the far end of the couch, a blanket over her knees, her laptop balanced against a throw pillow while she scrolled through campaign emails.

“Okay, but seriously,” she said, dragging her eyes off the screen, “if I have to come up with one more ‘authentic, seasonal, female-focused’ tagline for a candle company, I’m going to light one on fire and toss it into the ocean.”

I laughed. “I’d pay to see that.”

“You joke,” she said, pointing her spoon at me, “but it’s become a moral issue. Did you know that pine-scented wax might be the last straw for my sanity?”

“I mean, it is a bit aggressive.”

She groaned and dropped her head back dramatically. “That’s it. I’m switching careers. I’m going to start a goat farm. I’ll make soap. Or cheese. Or soap that smells like cheese. Whatever.”

“You’d be good at it,” I said, trying not to laugh too hard. “You could call it ‘Bleat & Greet.’”

She snorted. “Don’t encourage me.” But then her gaze softened. “Honestly, though. Work’s been steady. Busy, but steady. I can’t complain. What about you? Have you thought about what’s next?”

That was the question I’d been avoiding. The one that made my chest tighten every time I opened my laptop and saw my name was barely a footnote now. Just one more influencer scandal the world had already moved past.

Especially with everything else on my mind.

Everything I didn’t want to think about. Especially with Lucy sitting across from me.

Since I hadn’t seen Garrett, Beckett, or Asher since Lucy came back, we couldn’t exactly talk. And maybe that was for the best.

Maybe that moment had passed.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly, wrapping both hands around my mug as if it might anchor me. “It’s like everything I built feels like it’s gone. Poof. All because Ava didn’t want me to have a great brand deal. It’s madness.”

Lucy didn’t interrupt. She just let me keep going.

“I keep thinking, what if I don’t want to go back to all that? The hustle, the filters, the constant pretending. But then what? What else am I even good at?”

“You’re good at a lot,” she said without hesitation.

“You’re creative. You’re smart. You’re really good with people when you’re not trying to sell them something.

And you have a point of view. That still matters.

Plus, don’t forget, you made your idiot ex, right?

You taught him to do social media. What else can you teach? ”

I blinked fast, surprised at how much her words had gotten to me.

“I keep trying to think of ideas,” I admitted. “Like a blog that isn’t about brand deals or curated aesthetics. Real stuff. Maybe even a podcast. But then I think, who would even care?”

“I would,” Lucy said immediately. “And I’m not saying that because I love you. Okay, I am saying that because I love you, but also because people are starved for something real. You’ve always had a voice, Riley. Maybe this is your chance to actually use it.”

I didn’t say anything at first. I stared at the screen where the heroine was baking cookies for the grumpy, flannel-wearing love interest who probably owned a Christmas tree farm.

“Maybe,” I murmured. “Maybe I could make something new.”

Lucy grinned. “That’s the spirit. Reinvention. It’s very on brand.”

We clinked our mugs together in a toast.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the window panes with a soft, restless rhythm. Inside, the lights on the miniature tree in the corner blinked lazily, half burned out and still managing to feel a little magical.

But something was off.

Something had been off, and I was getting to the point where I couldn’t ignore it any longer. Even if I had been trying to keep it to myself.

It was hard to lose myself in the movie when it kept overwhelming me.

I’d been feeling it for days now, this hum of something not quite right in my body.

A constant thread of fatigue I couldn’t shake, even after sleeping in. Certain smells, like Lucy’s favorite cinnamon coffee creamer, turned my stomach out of nowhere.

And my emotions were swinging on a Tilt-a-Whirl: irritation at nothing, then tears over a commercial about puppies in the snow.

I’d chalked it up to stress. The fallout. Everything I’d been trying to carry.

But the truth was, I felt different . Not sick, exactly. Just off.

Lucy must’ve noticed something, because she peered at me over her cocoa with a little frown. “Hey. You okay? You look a little pale again.”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly. Too quickly. I forced a smile. “Just tired.”

“You sure you’re not coming down with something? You’ve been yawning since lunch. And you passed on caramel popcorn, which, let’s be honest, feels borderline illegal.”

I laughed, but even that felt thin. “I think I’m just worn out. I haven’t really stopped since… well, everything. Maybe I need to take better care of myself.”

“Maybe.” She studied me for another beat. “Or maybe you’re pregnant.”

I snorted. “Please.”

She grinned, teasing now. “Come on, I’ve read the internet. Fatigue, weird smells, crying at dumb movies.”

“No way,” I said, laughing. “Besides, there’s no one in the picture.”

Lucy gave me a look. The kind she used to give me in high school when she knew I was full of it.

“What about Jasper?” she said, drawing out his name.

“Oh my god." I nearly choked on my cocoa. “That was forever ago. Trust me. He is definitely not the father. It’s been, like, ten months. Minimum. And he couldn’t have gotten me pregnant even if he tried . I’m pretty sure his swimmers were too busy debating eco ethics to actually swim.”

Lucy burst out laughing, hiding her face behind her mug. “Fair. But still. Stranger things have happened. And you’ve been kind of glowy.”

“Glowy?” I raised a brow.

“Yeah, glowy. Like, you’ve got that flushed, weirdly radiant, I’m-keeping-a-secret look. Either you’re pregnant, or you’ve been hiding a secret hookup with the guy from the general store.”

I rolled my eyes. “Definitely not the general store guy.”

“Then who?”

“Lucy, seriously. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired.”

But even as I said it, something twisted inside me. Not fear, exactly. More uncertainty. A flicker of doubt I couldn’t quite shake.

Because recently didn’t mean never .

And there had been them .

My breath caught.

No. No way.

It couldn’t be.

But the symptoms lined up. The fatigue, the nausea, the mood swings, even the craving for hot cocoa every damn night like my life depended on it.

I pulled my blanket up tighter, the weight of it suddenly feeling too much. The movie blurred in the background, snow falling, someone declaring love under mistletoe, but I couldn’t focus.

It was as if I was slipping down a slope I hadn’t even realized I was standing on.

Lucy didn’t notice. She was half-watching the screen again, her hand absentmindedly scrolling on her laptop.

But the idea had rooted in my mind now, stubborn and heavy.

What if I was pregnant? And what if the father was one of the Wolfe brothers?

My stomach turned, but this time it wasn’t the cocoa.

I swallowed hard.

What the hell was I going to do next?