Page 125 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Beckett’s arms were crossed, jaw tight. “If anything breaks, if the heater makes weird noises or you run out of propane, call. Don’t wait.”

“I know,” I said, and it came out quiet.

This wasn’t really about the heater, was it? It was about what we still needed to do.

Asher didn’t say anything at first. He looked at me for a long second, then glanced toward the door. “She doesn’t know?”

I shook my head. “Not yet.”

His mouth curved, barely. “You’re a better actor than me.”

There was a long silence.

Then Lucy’s voice called from inside, bright and amused: “If you’re whispering dramatic secrets out there, I swear to God?—”

“We’re coming,” Beckett barked back, but there was a smile tucked under it.

Inside, Lucy appeared with a bowl of tortilla chips and plopped onto the armrest of the couch. Asher had somehow made it into the kitchen and was poking around, while Beckett leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed, calculating the structural integrity of the ceiling beams for fun.

Garrett stood near the fireplace, quiet, like he didn’t quite know where to go. And I perched on the edge of the armchair, hyperaware of every glance, every shift in tone.

“So,” Lucy said suddenly, as if she’d had a revelation. “You guysarecoming tonight, right?”

Three sets of eyes turned toward her.

Beckett blinked. “Coming where?”

“The Christmas tree lighting in town,” she said, like it was obvious. “It’s tradition.”

Asher squinted. “Since when?”

“Since now,” she said cheerfully, grabbing a chip. “Hot cider, twinkly lights, a fifteen-foot pine that gets turned into a glowing forest monster for a month. You know. Festive things. Medford isgreatat festive things.”

Beckett hesitated. “Thought you weren’t into that stuff anymore.”

Lucy shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m allowed to change my mind. Also, Riley’s never been.”

Three more sets of eyes turned to me now.

I froze mid-sip of coffee.

“It sounds nice,” I said cautiously.

“You’ll love it,” Lucy assured me. “It’s corny and chaotic and perfect. Plus, we can get those ridiculous cinnamon donuts from Kai. The Foundry boys are doing booths.”

Garrett smiled slightly. “The ones that taste like warm sugar and regret?”

“The very same,” Lucy confirmed.

Asher leaned against the fridge, giving me a sly little smirk. “Are we going for the holiday charm or because you secretly want to watch carolers butcher Mariah Carey again?”

“Can’t it be both?” She grinned. “Besides, it’s not Christmas until someone hits a whistle note and breaks the mic.”

Beckett looked between her and me, then gave a resigned sigh. “Fine. We’ll come.”

Lucy clapped her hands. “Excellent. It’s a date. Kind of.”

Asher raised an eyebrow. “A group, non-romantic, family-and-friends-oriented excursion?”

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