Page 7 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies (Men of Medford #4)

CHAPTER FIVE

Riley

Garrett had disappeared hours ago, mumbling something about an early morning. Classic broody mountain man move.

I didn’t blame him. If I spent all day lifting logs and growling at things, I’d probably need more sleep, too.

Me? I needed a drink.

Luckily, Asher seemed to agree.

“Alright, city girl,” he said, grinning as he pulled a bottle of whiskey from a battered cabinet. “You, me, and a glass of very questionable life choices. Sound good?”

I plopped onto the worn leather couch, tucking my legs under me. “That sounds like a terrible idea.”

“So perfect.” He handed me a glass with a wink.

I took it, clinked mine against his, and said, “To rock bottoms and rebrands.”

Asher barked out a laugh. “Now that’s a damn toast.”

We were a few sips in—okay, maybe a few glasses —when the warm buzz started kicking in. My limbs felt like velvet, my cheeks flushed, and my filter had taken the night off.

Which was saying something, because even tipsy, I was usually good at keeping my image intact. Not tonight.

“I just,” I gestured vaguely, staring into my half-empty glass. “I don’t think people get how hard it is to live your life under a microscope. Everyone thinks influencing is, like, oat milk lattes and cute outfits and pretending to journal in golden hour lighting.”

“You don’t actually journal?” Asher teased, mock-scandalized.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I mean sometimes. But not seriously. Not like when I was in middle school, and I wrote an entire entry about wanting a Juicy Couture velour tracksuit.”

Asher snorted. “Bet you made that thing look dangerous.”

I smirked. “Damn right I did.”

That earned a laugh from him, and for a second, I forgot everything. The scandals. The headlines. The way I’d woken up one day and realized the empire I’d built was made of glass, and it had shattered overnight.

“I built me ,” I said more quietly, swirling the amber liquid in my glass.

“From nothing. Just me and my phone and the belief that I could actually matter if I worked hard enough. I didn’t have connections or handouts.

Every collab, every follower, every stupid caption.

I earned it. People commented that my ex, Jasper, helped, but the truth is I helped him. I taught him what to do online.”

Beckett, who had been leaning against the wall like some kind of silent lumberjack ghost, finally spoke. His voice was gravel and steel.

“All that for what? Likes?”

I blinked. My head tilted slowly as I processed the jab. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged, arms crossed over his broad chest. “It seems hollow. All that effort to look perfect for strangers.”

The whiskey flared in my chest like fire. “It wasn’t only about looking perfect. It was about building something. A brand. A business.”

He didn’t flinch. “Still sounds silly.”

My laugh was sharp. “Sounds silly? Well, I guess you wouldn’t understand it, here in the middle of nowhere. But in LA, it’s everything .”

Beckett’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “I’m glad I’m not in LA. It sounds horrible. The Medford mountains are far more real.”

“And at least I don’t hide behind a beard and call it ‘depth,’” I snapped back, unsure of why I was being so nasty. I didn’t like being judged. “LA is real. If you’ve never been there, you wouldn’t know it.”

Why am I defending LA? After what it did to me?

I didn’t even know anymore.

Asher coughed into his drink, caught somewhere between trying to defuse us and clearly enjoying the show.

“Okay,” he said, raising his hands. “Let’s all take a breath. Or another shot. Or both.”

But I wasn’t done. The burn in my chest wasn’t just whiskey, it was everything. The failure. The shame. The weeks of pretending I was okay when everything I built had collapsed beneath me.

These guys weren’t even the target of my stress, but I had no one else to take it out on.

The booze wasn’t helping me think straight.

“You don’t get it,” I said to Beckett, quieter this time.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be picked apart.

To have thousands of people watch you fall, just waiting to pounce.

You think it’s fake because you’ve never had to prove yourself to a hollow world that only values you if you’re shiny and smiling. ”

Beckett’s jaw ticked. He didn’t say anything right away. He looked at me for a long beat, confusion behind those pine-colored eyes.

Fake. Hollow.

I shouldn’t care what a surly lumberjack thought about me. And yet, I did. Which only pissed me off more.

“I’m going to bed,” I muttered, standing too quickly and swaying for half a second.

“Whoa,” Asher reached out to steady me, all charm and good intentions. “Easy, killer. This altitude sneaks up on you.”

“Thanks for the scientific update, Bill Nye.” I waved him off, trying to keep some shred of dignity.

Beckett didn’t say a word. He sat there, arms crossed, green eyes narrowed.

“Oh, what?” I snapped, turning back toward him. “Got something else to say? About my world?”

His jaw worked, and I could see the flicker of guilt behind his eyes. But instead of an apology, he gave me silence. Typical.

“You don’t know me,” I said, voice shaking now. “You don’t know a damn thing about how hard I’ve worked or what it took to get where I was. And yeah, maybe it all fell apart, but at least I tried. At least I cared about something.”

Beckett stood then. Slowly. And damn, he was big. Looming. That same quiet intensity that had first struck me now felt like a wall I’d never be able to climb.

“I didn’t mean—” he started.

“Save it,” I cut him off. “You did. You meant every condescending word. I’ve had enough of being judged by people who’ve never had to prove themselves to the world.”

Was he condescending?

Or was that everyone else?

“Alright, alright.” Asher stepped between us, palms up. “Can we not do this right before bed? Emotions are high, drinks were had, and Beckett doesn’t speak fluent human after the sun has set."

“Asher,” Beckett growled, clearly annoyed.

I glared at both of them. Two emotionally constipated woodsmen with cheekbones sharp enough to slice through tension, but not a single clue how to actually defuse it.

“Forget it,” I muttered, spinning on my heel. “I really do need to sleep.”

“Riley—” Asher started.

But I was already heading for the stairs, my socked feet thudding against the wood.

Damn, what had I gotten myself into?

This was supposed to be a reset. A breath. A place to figure out my next step, not… this. Not being stuck in a cabin with these hot, judgmental hermits and a storm that wouldn’t let up.

By the time I slammed the bedroom door shut behind me, my cheeks were burning—not just from the booze but from the ache in my chest I hadn’t managed to drink away.

Tomorrow. I’d leave tomorrow.

No more mountains. No more flannel. No more being the weird outsider from LA trying to survive in a Brawny paper towel commercial.

Ugh, I needed something real before I lost my damn mind.

I pulled my phone from my hoodie pocket and sent a quick text to Lucy.

Riley You are not going to believe the day I’ve had.

Lucy Uh-oh. What happened?

Riley Your cabin flooded. Legit water pouring through the ceiling like a horror movie. A pipe burst.

Lucy Oh no! What the hell? Are you okay??

Riley I’m fine. Just soggy and emotionally bankrupt. Will you be okay?

Lucy My brothers will help me.

Riley Speaking of I’m staying with your brothers for the night.

Lucy Ah, I did send Asher to check in on you. Will that be alright?

Riley Yeah, but I do think I’ve landed in some kind of grumpy woodsman convention.

Lucy They can be a bit like that. Why do you think I never let them visit me in college? I’ll be back as soon as I can to rescue you.

Riley I’m okay at the moment. Asher found whiskey, so I’m surviving. But Beckett definitely thinks I’m a superficial disaster.

Lucy Ugh. Ignore him. He’s just like that. I’ll have a word with him as soon as I get back.

Riley It’s fine. This whole week has been cursed anyway. Thanks for everything again.

Lucy Always. And for the record, you are not a disaster. You’re doing your best. Call me if you need a real-time pep talk.

Riley Might take you up on that. Love you.

I stared at her last message for a second too long. Smiled. Then sighed.

I climbed under the quilt, burying myself in it like armor. I just needed one night. One last night of pretending I didn’t care what they thought.

But as I stared at the ceiling, teeth clenched, I realized I cared more than I wanted to admit.

And that was the worst part of all.