Page 38 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Not the kindness. Not the safe haven. Not Lucy’s friendship. Not Asher’s attention.

Especially not Asher’s attention.

Because I was a mess. And messes broke things. Relationships. Reputations. People.

The worst part?

I wanted to tell her everything. Curl up on her couch with a blanket and coffee and confess it all. Let her laugh or yell or tell me I was being ridiculous.

But I couldn’t. Not this time.

Because I knew I’d crossed a line.

And there might not be any going back.

Fuck.

A few hours later, I cracked my door open like I was trying to escape a crime scene.

Which, honestly, wasn’t that far off.

The hallway was quiet. Shadows long. Somewhere downstairs, I could hear Beckett’s hammer tapping, muted and steady.

No voices. No footsteps. No smirking brothers with sex-tousled hair and devastating winks.

Good.

I slipped out, bare feet silent on the wood floor, and tugged my hoodie down over the oversized sleep shirt I hadn’t bothered to change out of.

My stomach growled, loud and traitorous. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and no amount of mortification could make me ignore the scent of something vaguely cinnamon drifting from the kitchen.

The house creaked with old wood and colder weather. The kind of silence that made you hyper aware of everything, the way your pulse sped up, how your breath sounded louder than it should, and especially the way your thoughts looped in mortifying circles.

You screwed Lucy’s brother. Scratch that. You fucked Lucy’s brother. Again.

I winced.

Damn, I wanted to text her so bad. A quick “Hey, can we talk?”But there was no cell service. No internet. Just me, my impulsive decisions, and three bearded men who knewway too muchabout me now.

I crept down the stairs, fully expecting a full-blown tribunal waiting in the living room.

Instead?

Beckett was focused on reinforcing the fireplace, his back to me, tools spread neatly beside him. He didn’t look up.

Garrett was outside, framed by the frosted window, chopping wood with controlled, purposeful swings. His jaw was clenched,the hard lines of his body rigid like he was trying to work his emotions out of his system.

And Asher was exactly where I didn’t want him to be. Leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping something warm from a mug, and lookingentirelytoo pleased with himself.

His eyes flicked to me the second I padded into the room.

“Look who finally emerged from her shame cocoon,” he said, voice low and teasing.

“Starvation is stronger than shame,” I muttered, brushing past him and yanking open the fridge.

He chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. “You sure about that? You looked pretty committed to hiding.”

“I was thinking,” I said, pulling out a Tupperware of something that looked like leftover cinnamon rolls. “And avoiding the wrath of Garrett.”

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