Page 34 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Garrett

I didn’t get a damn minute of sleep.

Paced the floor most of the night, the boards creaking under my weight while the wind whistled through the trees outside, whispering the kind of shit I didn’t want to hear.

All I could think about was what Riley had said. The way her voice had gone soft but steady, as if she’d already made peace with being left behind. Like she expected it.

And that made something crack open in my chest.

By the time morning rolled around, I was strung out on adrenaline and rage—I didn’t know where to aim. My jaw hurt from clenching it. My hands were twitchy. I needed to build something or break something, just to feel like I was doing more than standing still.

Then I walked into the kitchen.

And there she was.

Riley.

Standing at the counter in one of my old flannels, buttoned all the way up like that’d make a difference. Bare legs underneath, socks on, messy bun stabbed through with a pencil as if she’d just woken up in the middle of writing a grocery list.

She was humming, back turned, fiddling with the coffee maker like it was just another day.

And for a second everything stopped. Everything in me went still.

Then she turned, and chaos struck like lightning.

Her elbow clipped the handle of the coffee pot. It wobbled as if it were something out of a cartoon. She lunged to catch it, missed, and the damn thing did a full swan dive off the counter.

Coffee flew.

Hit the cabinets, the floor, her sock.

The smell of it hit me next, all burnt and bitter.

“Oh my god,” she yelped, stumbling back like the coffee had teeth.

I was already moving.

“You okay?” I asked, grabbing the roll of paper towels off the sill and tossing them her way.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, arms still frozen as if she was waiting for more to fall.

I looked down at her soaked sock. Steam curled up from it. She glanced down, frowning.

“My sock has become a latte.”

I barked out a laugh before I could stop it.

She shot me a look that tried to be annoyed but didn’t land. “Don’t laugh. That was almost graceful.”

“Sure,” I said, handing her the towels. “If the plan was to baptize the kitchen in espresso.”

That earned a little laugh, soft, breathy, almost a snort. She started patting at the mess, trying to look serious, but her mouth was already twitching at the corners.

“I haven’t even had coffee yet,” she grumbled, mopping the counter. “This is some real cruel and unusual shit.”

“You attacking the kitchen is what’s cruel.”

“Wasn’t the plan,” she said. “But apparently my elbows are a menace to society.”

I leaned back against the counter, arms folded, watching her.

Even dripping with coffee, half her hair falling loose, surrounded by puddles… she was still the most beautiful thing I’d ever laid eyes on.

“You’ve always had shit elbow coordination,” I said.

She glanced over her shoulder at me. “Always?”

I shrugged. “It’s in your file.”

“You keep a file on me?”

“Color coded.”

She laughed, really laughed this time, and before I could think better of it, I reached out and tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear.

She froze under my hand.

Then her eyes lifted to mine, and just like that, the world shut up. No creaking floorboards. No wind. No noise in my head.

Just her.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said, voice soft like it might break if she pushed too hard.

“I was already up.”

“Thinking?”

“Yeah.”

She didn’t press. Only nodded. She understood exactly what that meant without needing the details.

Then she crouched again to finish mopping up the coffee, moving like she was trying to shrink herself down, make less of a mess.

“Thanks for helping me clean up my disaster,” she murmured.

I stared at her, on her knees in one of my shirts, hair falling loose, socks still damp and clinging, and my pulse began to pound out of control.

Because somehow this , the mess, the laughter, the silence between words, felt more like home than anything ever had.

That weight I carry? The one that’s always there, heavy in my chest, in my bones? It didn’t vanish. But for once, it didn’t own me.

I’ve spent my whole life being the one who holds things together. The one who takes the hit so no one else has to. That’s just how I’m built.

But with Riley, it felt like I could breathe. I wasn’t on the verge of collapsing under the next damn thing. I wasn’t alone in it.

She stood, pushing her hair out of her face, cheeks flushed from laughing and maybe something else. And I knew I couldn’t hold this back any longer.

I stepped toward her.

She looked up, a smile flickering a little at the edges.

“What?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“I feel lighter around you,” I said, rough and raw. “Like for once in my life, I’m not carrying it all by myself.”

Her eyes widened. Shimmered. She swallowed hard, as if the words hit somewhere deep.

“I don’t know what that means yet,” I kept going, stepping in closer. “But I know it’s real. And I know it’s you.”

“Garrett—”

I didn’t let her finish.

Didn’t need to hear the rest. I reached for her like a man grabbing the only solid thing in a storm, both hands on her face, fingers in her hair, and kissed her.

Hard.

Hungry.

I’d been holding this in for years and couldn’t spare another second.

And she kissed me back like she felt the same, hands fisting in my shirt, mouth opening under mine, a soft little gasp that about wrecked me.

She tasted of everything I hadn’t let myself want, all at once. I kissed her deeper, tilting her chin up, trying to memorize every sound she made, every breath that caught, every little tremble that told me this mattered.

When we finally came up for air, she leaned her forehead against mine, breathing hard.

And finally, I felt steady.

“That,” she whispered, dazed and flushed, “was not very responsible of you.”

I let out a low breath of a laugh, still trying to remember how to breathe. “You make me reckless, Riley Brooks.”

She smiled smugly. “Good.”

Floorboards groaned overhead. A muttered curse. Beckett’s voice, then Asher’s, followed by the dull thump of his steps.

The cabin was waking up.

Riley stepped back, and I felt it, the cold rush of space where she’d just been. She tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling it lower over her thighs.

“I should probably find some pants,” she muttered. “Before the cold gets me.”

I raised a brow. “Yeah. Wouldn’t want to give my brothers permanent psychological damage, right? Showing them those legs like that.”

She smacked my chest on her way out, grinning as if it didn’t scare the hell out of both of us, this thing between us.

I watched her walk away, and my chest ached in that way it always did around her. Tight, too full. It couldn’t contain the weight of everything I wasn’t saying.

By the time I’d cleaned up the last of the coffee crime scene, both Beckett and Asher had dragged themselves into the kitchen, looking like they’d fought the night and lost.

“Who spilled the beans?” Beckett muttered, blinking at the counter. “Or was it just coffee?”

“Just coffee,” I said. “And Riley’s sock. Moment of silence.”

Asher poured what was left into a mug and passed one to Beckett.

“You look like hell,” he said to me.

“Didn’t sleep.”

“Same,” Beckett said, sipping. “Can’t stop thinking about it.”

Asher glanced between us. Serious now. “We need to talk to her.”

I stared at him. “Lucy?”

Beckett scrubbed a hand through his hair, jaw set like concrete. “We’ve been cowards about it.”

“She deserves the truth,” Asher said. “All of it.”

I rubbed the back of my neck, already feeling the weight of it. “Even if it changes everything.”

“Especially then,” Beckett said quietly. “Because we can’t sneak around forever. Not now .”

“The relationship, she’ll understand,” I muttered. “I mean, this is Medford. Plus, Lucy has a lot of love for Lila, Sadie, and Aurora.”

“But Riley…” Asher nodded. “That’s the bit she might not be so keen on.”

Riley returned, back in her clothes, hair tied up like armor. She took one look at our faces and stilled.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

I met her eyes. “We want to tell Lucy. Today. All of us.”

Her mug hovered midair. She blinked. “All three of you?”

“All of us ,” Asher said. “It’s time.”

Riley didn’t move. Not at first. Then she nodded, slow and distant. But it wasn’t a real yes.

“Okay,” she said softly. “Yeah. That makes sense.”

But the way she stood, tight shoulders, distant stare, told a whole other story.

“Riley,” I said, gentle now. “Talk to us.”

Her arms came up around her chest as if she was trying to hold herself together. The brightness she’d walked in with had faded.

“I know it’s the right thing,” she said, voice tight. “Lucy deserves honesty. And I hate lying to her.”

“But?” Beckett prompted.

Her voice dropped. “But I’m scared. I’m so damn scared.”

She turned to the window, watching snow drift like it wasn’t the sky that was falling, it was her.

“I’ve already lost everything once,” she said. “My career. My reputation. My whole life, basically. I survived that. But Lucy?” Her voice cracked. “Losing her would wreck me.”

No one spoke. We didn’t have to. The silence said it all.

Asher broke it first. “You won’t lose her.”

“You don’t know that,” Riley said, eyes flashing. “You’re her brothers. To her, this could feel like betrayal.”

“Stop,” I said, stepping closer, catching her hand before she spiraled. “Don’t go there. We’re all in this together.”

“You’re important to her,” Beckett said.

“But this situation,” she said, glancing between us, “it’s not normal.”

“Not common,” Asher agreed, “but not unheard of. Not here.”

Beckett nodded. “Lila, Aurora, Sadie… they all found something real in setups like this. Different, yeah. But real.”

Asher’s voice softened. “And Lucy knows those women. She’s seen what it looks like when it works. She’s not going to throw a grenade just because this doesn’t fit in some neat little box.”

The tears showed up then, no matter how hard she tried to blink them away.

“I want to get it right,” she whispered. “I don’t want to ruin it. Any of it.”

“You won’t,” I said. “We’re doing this together. Whatever happens, we handle it.”

Riley let out a shaky breath, then nodded.

“Okay,” she said, this time with more spine.

Beckett stepped forward and pulled her into a quick hug.

“She’s going to be shocked,” he said. “But she’ll understand. She’ll see it’s real.”

Asher nodded. “She loves you, Riley. She wants you happy. Even if it takes her a minute.”

Riley leaned into Beckett’s chest for a second, then stepped back, squaring her shoulders, bracing for a battle.

“Let’s rip the bandage off,” she said. “Before I chicken out and fake a coffee-related injury.”

“You already pulled that card,” I said.

She snorted, mouth twitching. “Yeah, well. I’ve got two elbows.”

She laughed, but I saw the nerves under it. Felt them in my own gut.

But this was the next step.

Right or not, it was coming.