Page 28 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Riley

The ride into town was a blur.

The sky was still pale with early morning light, and I pressed my forehead to the cold glass of Asher’s truck window, trying to stop the world from spinning.

The smell of coffee and vomit clung to my skin, sourness still crawling up the back of my throat. I didn’t want to be sick.

I didn’t want to be that girl right now. The one who couldn’t handle rejection from Garrett without ending up on the bathroom floor.

But worse than the nausea was the silence.

Beckett was driving. Asher sat in the back with me, keeping a steady hand on my shoulder as if I might collapse again. I didn’t look at Garrett, even though I could feel him, rigid in the passenger seat, all sharp lines and clenched jaw.

The same man who’d kissed me like he needed me.

Then said it was a mistake this morning.

When we pulled up to the clinic, I moved fast.

Too fast, maybe, but I needed space . I shoved the door open, ignoring the way my legs trembled, and stepped out into the chill morning air.

Beckett started to follow, but I held up a hand without turning.

“I’ve got it,” I said quietly.

“Riley—” Asher started.

“I said I’ve got it.” My voice was rough, but steady. “Please.”

It was Garrett who stopped them. “Let her go,” he muttered.

And that should have made me feel better.

It didn’t.

I took a breath, tried to swallow the lump in my throat, and that was when I saw her.

“Riles?” Lucy’s voice called out from across the lot, confusion quickly turning to concern as she jogged toward me. “What happened? Asher texted and said you were headed to the doctor’s.”

Damn, she looked like a dream. Fresh from a night spent wrapped in happiness. Her cheeks were pink, her hair tousled in a way that had “Nate” written all over it. She looked loved .

I felt wrecked.

I hoped she didn’t ask me why I was with her brothers.

“I’m okay,” I said, even though I clearly wasn’t. “I just got sick.”

She didn’t press, she looped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on. I’ll go in with you.”

I nodded, grateful and ashamed all at once.

Behind me, I could feel her brothers watching. Still.

I didn’t look back.

The clinic felt too bright. Too sterile.

Every fluorescent light overhead buzzed like it was interrogating me, exposing truths I hadn’t said out loud, truths I wasn’t ready to name.

A nurse with kind eyes called my name. I followed her back, Lucy close behind, her hand still warm on my arm.

We moved through a narrow hallway that smelled of antiseptic and quiet dread.

Inside the exam room, I sat on the edge of the table, clinging to it, hoping it might anchor me to something solid. The paper beneath me crinkled with every breath.

The nurse asked her questions gently, but they still hit like blows.

“When was your last period?”

“Have you been under stress?”

“Is there a chance you could be pregnant?”

I laughed. A sharp, brittle sound I didn’t recognize.

She didn’t laugh back.

That was when the shaking started.

I gripped the vinyl cushion beneath me with one hand, the other fisting the hem of my sweater, trying to hold myself together by sheer will.

The clock on the wall ticked like a countdown.

Lucy sat in a plastic chair beside me, her posture stiff, hands knotted in her lap. She hadn’t looked away once.

When the door opened again, I flinched.

The doctor stepped in with a calm expression that only made my stomach drop further. She was bracing me for impact.

She didn’t bother with a lead-in.

“You’re pregnant, Riley.”

Three words. Just three.

But they detonated like a bomb.

The world slowed. Sound disappeared. Color drained.

Gravity tilted.

The words hit before I could even process them, cutting through me, leaving everything hollow and echoing inside.

I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move.

The silence pressed in, painfully heavy.

Then Lucy’s voice came, soft and careful, like she was walking barefoot through broken glass. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”

I made myself say it. “No.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed. “Or who…?”

Her voice trailed off.

Because she was smart. And she was my best friend.

But could she guess?

My voice was hoarse. “It was a one-night stand.”

Though not entirely a lie, the words still tasted like shame.

Because it could be Asher. Or Beckett. Or Garrett.

And if that made me reckless, or selfish, or something worse, well, I didn’t have the strength to argue it.

My stomach turned, but not from nausea this time. From panic.

“What the hell am I supposed to do, Lucy?”

My voice cracked on her name. It wasn’t just a question. It was a plea.

Lucy stood. Not slowly, carefully. As if she was approaching something fragile. Something that might shatter if she moved too fast.

She stood in front of me and waited until I looked up.

“You’re going to breathe,” she said. “And then you’re going to decide what you want. You’re going to really think this through.”

The walk back to the Medford Inn was quiet.

Not peaceful quiet. Heavy quiet. The kind that pressed in around you, dense with everything left unsaid.

I carried it with me all the way to the suite.

“Can I do anything for you?” Lucy asked as we stepped inside.

I shook my head.

“No. I just…” I exhaled, slow and shaky. “I think I need a minute. Or an hour. Or something.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t argue.

“Okay,” she said. “I’m going to get some work done at The Brewed Bean. But call me if you need me.”

She waited a beat longer, then crossed the space between us and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Her hand lingered on my shoulder for a second, grounding me again like only she could.

Then she was gone. And I was alone.

The silence after the door clicked shut felt louder than anything.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor. My coat was still on. My shoes, too.

Pregnant .

I whispered the word aloud, only to see how it sounded in the air instead of just in my head.

It didn’t sound real. It sounded like it belonged to someone else.

I pressed a hand to my stomach. There was nothing to feel. No sign. No proof. Only that word, floating in the space between me and whatever came next.

I lay back slowly, curling toward the wall, pulling the blanket over me as if it could protect me from the weight of it all.

But it didn’t. Nothing could.

I was in shock.

So much shock that I did something I never thought I would.

I picked up my phone and called my parents.

My thumb hovered over the screen for a full minute before I finally pressed the button.

A part of me hoped it would go to voicemail. But of course, it didn’t.

“Riley.” My mother’s voice was crisp and surprised. “This is unexpected.”

Of course it was.

“I…” My voice cracked. I swallowed, tried again. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

There was a pause on her end. I could hear the faint clinking of glass and the low hum of music in the background.

Some kind of event, probably. They were always at some event.

Then she sighed. I was already exhausting her. “Are you in trouble again ?”

That word, again , landed like a slap. All the years I’d spent trying to build something for myself, something real, and that one word reduced it all to a mistake I hadn’t even made yet.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

The silence that followed hollowed me out.

Then, measured and flat: “Is it that horrible gym boy’s baby?”

Huh? Who was she even talking about?

She really had no idea about my life, did she?

“No,” I whispered. “It’s not.”

Another pause. I heard my father’s voice in the background, impatiently asking who was on the phone.

My mother must’ve covered the receiver, because her voice was muffled as she answered him. When she came back, her tone had shifted. Cooler. Sharper.

“Well,” she said. “You’ve certainly been making some mistakes recently, haven’t you?”

I blinked. “What?”

“That video, Riley.” Her voice was edged, almost scolding. “Drunkenly yelling at that woman? Honestly, what were you thinking? Your aunt forwarded it to me, said it’s been circulating everywhere . It’s humiliating.”

I shut my eyes. That night.

Halloween god damn night.

Damn, I’d tried so hard not to think about it. I didn’t even remember most of what I said. Only that Ava had gone out of her way to make me look foolish.

“I was upset,” I murmured. “Having a hard time with someone who was supposed to be my friend. She did this to me.”

My mother made a sound, half disbelief, half disgust. “You can’t blame everything on other people. Whose fault is this ? The baby?”

I could barely breathe. This phone call was a mistake.

What the hell was I thinking?

“I didn’t plan this,” I said, voice shaking. “I just wanted some advice.”

“You’ve always been impulsive,” she shot back coldly. “That’s not new. But this… this is different. You’ve already made quite a spectacle of yourself. Adding a child into the mix? You’ll never recover.”

Recover .

Like this was a PR disaster. I was just a brand she regretted ever attaching her name to.

Tears welled up and spilled before I could stop them. One dropped onto the screen.

“I didn’t call to talk about my image,” I said, my throat closing. “I called because I don’t know what to do. I’m scared. And I thought, just once, you could be my mom .”

There was a long, quiet breath on the other end.

Then, almost kindly, she said, “You’ll figure something out. You always do. But I suggest you keep this quiet. For everyone’s sake. And don’t let your father find out, okay?”

The call ended with a soft click.

I stared down at the screen, still wet with tears, hoping it would light up again. That she’d call back and say she was sorry. That she’d ask if I was okay.

But the phone stayed dark.

And the silence in the room felt like it might swallow me whole.