Page 30 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Riley

Lucy had that look in her eye.

The one that said this isn’t just a date, it’s a thing. The kind of thing that made her cheeks glow and her voice go all breathless when she tried to act casual.

She was wearing one of my sweaters, the soft oatmeal one that hung off one shoulder, and she’d braided her hair with these tiny, gold rings woven in.

She looked beautiful .

“Nate’s picking me up in ten,” she said, hovering in front of the mirror like she might change her mind about the braid, the sweater, the entire outfit.

“You look amazing,” I told her honestly. “Stop fussing.”

Her eyes met mine in the glass. “You sure? You’re okay with me going?”

“Lucy.” I laughed under my breath. “Go make questionable life choices with that gorgeous fireman. I’m all for it.”

“And you don’t need me?”

“I think I can cope for one night.”

She grinned, flushed, and hugged me as if she needed me to physically absorb her nerves. And then she headed toward the door of the suite with a sweet little smile on her face.

The moment the door shut behind her, the silence came in like a tide.

It was a lot .

I made tea. Lit a candle. Tried to read a book.

But my brain wouldn’t sit still. It kept flicking back to Lucy’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes and that dopey little smile she didn’t even realize she had.

I was happy for her. Really.

But it cracked something in me, too.

Because I used to be the girl people envied. The one with the big, glossy life. I had the sponsors. The invites. The steady stream of people telling me how perfect everything looked.

I had this image that made me feel untouchable, like the world couldn’t touch me if I kept it curated and beautiful.

And now?

Now I was hiding in a tiny town, pretty much in the woods, wearing two pairs of socks and wondering how my best friend’s date was going.

I caved.

I pulled out my phone and connected to the Internet, which wheezed and groaned as if I’d asked it to solve world peace. But eventually, it loaded.

Too slow, though. I wasn’t sure how people in Medford coped with this .

Social media was a mistake. A big, glittery, neon-lit mistake.

Ava’s face hit me first.

Perfect. Pouty. Highlighted within an inch of her life. She was on a yacht in the Maldives, or maybe it was Cabo?

I didn’t know, the captions were vague and annoying, but she looked like she’d stepped straight out of a swimsuit campaign.

Because she had.

Sponsored by my old brand.

The one I was supposed to secure on Halloween night.

What. The. Hell?

I bolted up straighter, continuing to scroll on her page. What?

More of my sponsors, now working with her.

Grateful for this dream opportunity with @SelenaSwim. Manifestation is real, babes.

But worse…

The dreaded comments.

Fire emojis, heart eyes, OMG Queen, and Finally someone who DESERVES this campaign!

No one said my name. Not even in the past tense.

It was as if I’d been scrubbed out.

I dropped my phone on the couch beside me like it burned.

My chest ached with something I didn’t want to name. It wasn’t jealousy, not exactly.

It was loss.

Of the life I used to have. The girl I used to be.

Of the life I’d worked so damn hard to create for myself.

I didn’t cry. Not yet. But I felt the pressure building behind my ribs, a tidal wave gathering strength.

Lucy was out there glowing, Ava was out there winning, and I was in an inn in the middle of nowhere, confused with no clue what was next.

What am I doing?

The thought came quiet. Because I hadn’t just lost a job or a campaign or a spotlight. I’d lost the story of who I was supposed to be.

And I didn’t know who I was without it.

Eventually, I couldn’t sit still anymore.

The walls of the suite felt too close, too quiet. I shoved on my boots, threw my coat over my sweater, and slipped outside with nothing but my phone and the raw, restless ache in my chest.

The cold slapped me in the face like it had a personal grudge. I welcomed it.

Snow crunched underfoot as I made my way down the road, no destination in mind. Just moving. Trying to remember that I had a body, that I existed outside of a screen. My breath came in soft clouds, the kind that looked like secrets disappearing into the air.

I wandered toward Maple Avenue without thinking, drawn by the glow of Christmas lights and the faint sound of laughter in the distance. A few blocks down, past the bookstore, Page Turners, and the firehouse, I spotted movement near the playground behind The Brewed Bean.

There were three women bundled in scarves and knit hats, wrangling strollers and sippy cups while toddlers ran in lopsided circles through the snow.

It took me a second to recognize them.

Sadie, of course, my new friend from the matchmaker hot cocoa debacle. And Lila, mother to the menace that was Biscuit. And I remembered Lucy telling me that they were always with Aurora, who owned the bookstore.

All of them in their own little harems.

I almost turned around. But before I could, Sadie spotted me.

“Riley!” she called out, waving a mittened hand.

I blinked. “Uh, hi.”

“C’mere, you’ll freeze your face off out there alone,” Lila added, already turning toward the coffee shop. “We were about to grab caffeine and try to keep these gremlins from eating sidewalk salt.”

“Come with us,” Aurora said sweetly, lifting baby Evie into her arms as she herded us all toward the door. “I’d love to get to know you.”

Wow. That was unexpected.

I smiled as brightly as I could manage, trying to mask my nerves, and followed.

The bell above The Brewed Bean jingled as we stepped inside, warmth and the scent of espresso enveloping me. I stood awkwardly for a second, unsure what I was doing here, until Sadie shoved a peppermint mocha into my hands.

“This is your favorite, right?” She smirked. “I remember.”

They claimed a table near the back while the children were momentarily distracted by a basket of plush toys and drool-covered board books.

“So,” Aurora said as she unzipped her coat, eyes bright with curiosity, “I know I know you from somewhere.”

I braced myself.

“That’s Riley Brooks,” Sadie said with a little grin. “She used to be all over Insta. Red carpets, brand deals, fancy photos, you name it.”

I laughed, even though it sounded more like a cough. “Yep. That’s me. Former Hot Mess Express. That all went to shit.”

“I’m sorry,” Aurora said gently, “I didn’t mean to bring up anything uncomfortable. What happened?”

I wrapped my hands tighter around the peppermint mocha, letting the warmth soak into my fingers.

What happened? Shit, where did you even start with a downfall that public?

I took a breath.

“There was a party on Halloween,” I said slowly. “LA rooftop, all the right people. You know the kind. Everyone dressed like they wanted to be photographed but pretended they didn’t.”

Sadie nodded, but I could tell she didn’t know what I meant. Not really.

“I was there to close a deal,” I continued. “A six-figure sponsorship. It was supposed to be the moment. Everything I’d worked for. The kind of brand that doesn’t just pay you, it launches you. Magazine covers. Campaigns. Real money.”

Aurora’s expression softened. “But something went wrong.”

“Yeah. Ava.”

The name tasted of rust in my mouth.

“She was a friend, kind of. The kind that smiles to your face and memorizes your insecurities. We came up together, collabs, parties, brand stuff, but she always had this way of twisting things. Making digs sound like compliments. One-up everything you do but somehow keep it casual.”

Lila’s brow arched. “A social climber in influencer clothing.”

“Exactly,” I said. “At the party, I found out she was trying to undercut me. Pitching to the same brand behind my back, copying my style, even cozying up to the same reps. She waited until I was celebrating to drop it on me. Like she couldn’t wait for me to choke on the confetti.”

They all exchanged glances, a silent language of women who’d seen that kind of betrayal before.

“I lost it,” I admitted. “Not like screaming or throwing drinks. But I told her off. Called her out for being fake, for always tearing down other women behind the scenes while preaching empowerment online. I said what I felt. What a lot of people felt.”

“You stood up for yourself,” Sadie said firmly.

I smiled, but it was thin. “Yeah, but I didn’t know she was recording. Or one of her people was. It got edited. Spliced together to make me look like this jealous, unhinged monster. And it worked . The clip went viral before I even got home. Hashtag CancelRiley was trending by morning.”

Silence fell over the table.

“My sponsors pulled out. PR agents stopped answering. I lost hundreds of thousands of followers in hours. Even people I’d helped… they distanced themselves. No one wanted to get dragged down with me.”

“Damn,” Aurora whispered.

I huffed a bitter laugh. “And Ava played the victim. Claimed I attacked her. Said she just wanted peace and sisterhood and that I hated seeing other women win.”

Sadie’s eyes narrowed. “What a load of bull.”

“It didn’t matter what was true. The Internet loves a villain. And I became one overnight.”

I expected the silence that always came after. The slow pullback. The sympathy mixed with judgment.

But it didn’t come.

Instead, Lila leaned forward. “She stole your voice and weaponized your honesty. That’s not on you, Riley.”

Aurora reached out and gently squeezed my hand. “That must’ve been heartbreaking.”

“It was.” My voice cracked, and I swallowed hard. “It was my whole life. Everything I built. Gone. That’s why I’m here. Visiting Lucy. Hiding out.”

“Well,” Lila said with a soft smile, “Medford is a good place to hide out. I mean, I had a lot to escape when I came back here. A bad breakup, a fraud situation… ugh, I was at my lowest. And now? I do freelance work while raising a baby with three firefighters who treat me like I hung the moon.”

Aurora nodded. “I was literally passing through. My uncle left me Page Turners, and I wanted to sell it… until I met the Grady brothers and started writing books.”

“Same for me.” Sadie chuckled. “I was only back for a minute . I had no plans. Now I organize galas and plan fundraisers and help kids who’ve got no one else. And I have a baby who thinks I’m hilarious, and three guys who do, too.”

Wow. They made the harem life in Medford sound so nice. More appealing than anything I’d ever seen online.

They made it sound easy, too, but I could see the grit underneath their stories. The hard-won joy. The faith it took to start over.

I looked down at my coffee. The whipped cream had started to melt.

“What if I don’t know what I’m good at?” I asked quietly.

“You don’t have to know right away,” Aurora said. “You only have to try.”

Lila leaned forward. “What do you love? Not what you used to be paid for. Not what looked good online. What makes you feel alive?”

I didn’t have an answer. Not yet.

But I wanted one.

As we sipped our coffee and listened to the babies babble nonsense, something inside me shifted. Just a little. A door cracking open after a long winter.

Maybe I wasn’t washed up.

Maybe I was only getting started.