Page 13 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“And you’re charming as ever,” I muttered, crossing my arms. “How is it you’re the youngest and still somehow the grumpiest?”

“I like the trees better.”

“Because they don’t talk back?”

“Exactly.”

Garrett’s phone buzzed, slicing through the usual rhythm of the yard. He tugged it from his jacket pocket, checked the screen, and sighed.

“Lucy,” he declared as he turned away and answered, pacing toward the edge of the lot.

Beckett didn’t even glance up from his work, but I could feel the shift in the air, both of us clocking that something was off. Our baby sister didn’t call in the middle of a weekday just to say hi.

Garrett returned a few minutes later, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression tight.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Lucy’s stuck in Eugene,” he said, voice gruff. “Client drama. Production delays. Said it’s a whole mess and she’s putting out fires left and right.”

“Sounds like fun,” I muttered.

“She’s not getting away like she planned,” he went on, ignoring me. “But she offered up her cabin for a while. College friend of hers needed a place to lay low. Apparently, she got in last night, late.”

Beckett paused mid-swing, tilting his head slightly. “Some kind of emergency?”

“Didn’t say. Just that her friend’s going through something and needed space. She asked if we could check in, make sure everything’s working. Heat, firewood, water. No big deal.”

I raised a brow. “You volunteering me for cabin maintenance now?”

“You’re not doing anything useful here,” Garrett shot back. “And Beckett’s behind on chainsaw repairs. Plus, you know the place. You can be charming when you try. Maybe.”

“Wow,” I said flatly. “I feel honored.”

Garrett stared.

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll go check. But if this turns into someLifetimemovie situation with a squatter and a raccoon, I’m blaming you.”

“Lucy said she’s a friend. Be decent.”

“I’m always decent,” I muttered, turning toward my truck. “Eventually.”

“Don’t make it weird, Asher.”

I grinned over my shoulder. “No promises.”

CHAPTER THREE

Riley

The drive upthe mountain took longer than I expected.

My GPS gave up somewhere past a blinking yellow light and a sad excuse for a gas station, and after that, it was just me, a rental car that hated the snow, and a winding road that looked like it hadn’t been plowed since last Christmas.

The tires kept slipping no matter how gently I tapped the brake, and the engine made this sad little groan every time I asked it to do anything more than crawl.

Honestly, it would’ve made great content. The kind of video people eat up.

Gray skies, snow-dusted pine trees, a soft piano track layered under a voiceover about finding clarity in isolation. I could already picture the caption:Sometimes you have to lose your signal to find yourself.

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