Page 50 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Here, in this snowbound cabin tucked high above the world I used to live in, there was no audience. No filters. No algorithms. No sponsorships waiting to be approved.

Just me.

Just them.

And the only thing I had to decide was whatIwanted.

Not what my followers wanted.

Not what would look best in a caption.

WhatIwanted.

I turned away from the window slowly, unwrapping my arms from around myself as I faced them again. The room was still, waiting. Not pressuring.

Just open.

“I don’t know what this is,” I said quietly. “Or what it’s supposed to be.”

Beckett gave a single nod, like he understood every word I hadn’t said yet.

“But I know what it’s not,” I added. “It’s not fake. It’s not shallow. And it’s not something I want to run from.”

Asher’s smile bloomed, warm and real. Garrett looked like he might exhale for the first time in minutes. Beckett stepped toward me, slowly, like he didn’t want to spook me.

When he stopped in front of me, he didn’t reach out. He waited.

So I reached forhim.

His hand was warm when our fingers met, callused and steady, grounding me like an anchor in the storm I didn’t know I’d been weathering.

His eyes searched mine, giving me one last out, one final moment to pull back.

I didn’t.

I stepped in, closing the distance between us, and his breath hitched just enough for me to feel it. Then he leaned in, slow and certain, and when his lips touched mine, the world quieted.

There was no performance in it. No spotlight, no pose.

Only the soft slide of his mouth over mine, delicate and careful, like he was learning me in real time. I melted into it, into him, and when we parted, his hand lingered at my waist like he didn’t want to let go.

I barely had time to catch my breath before another warmth pressed in. Garrett.

He waited until I looked at him, until I gave the smallest nod, before he kissed me, too. Deeper, hungrier, but still holding that gentleness that made my chest ache. Like he wanted me, yes, but more than that, he respected me.

When he pulled back, his thumb traced my cheek, and I could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. Everything he was willing to say, if I asked him to.

And then there was Asher.

He didn’t wait for a sign. He strode over, cocky grin softened by something tender in his eyes, and said, “My turn.”

His kiss was different. Wild in a way that felt like freedom. Like exhaling after holding your breath too long. He nipped at my bottom lip, coaxing a laugh out of me that turned into a gasp when his hand slid up my spine.

I swallowed hard, heart thrumming as I stepped back slightly. I reached down for the hem of my sweater, nerves buzzing as I pulled it over my head.

No one moved to stop me. No one rushed in, either.

They just watched.

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