Page 57 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

It’s not like we could drop a casual “Hey, by the way, your best friend’s currently tucked up in bed after the best damn night of her life. With all three of us.”

Yeah, no.

Garrett finally broke the silence, his voice rough. “She’s gonna lose her shit.”

“Massively,” Beckett agreed, eyes still on the road.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “We don’t owe her details. Riley’s a grown woman. She’s allowed to make her own choices.”

Garrett shot me a look in the rearview mirror. “Sure, but you know Lucy. Protective as hell. Suspicious as fuck. You think she’s not gonna sniff something out the second she sees Riley?”

I didn’t answer, because… yeah. He wasn’t wrong.

The cabin came into view around the next bend, its roof heavy with snow, icicles hanging like daggers off the porch. Riley's car was still parked out front, its top covered in snow. We'd need to move that too.

Beckett pulled up and killed the engine, the three of us sitting there for a second, staring at it.

A symbol of the mess we were in.

Garrett didn’t wait; that wasn’t his style. He hauled the tarp over his shoulder and climbed onto the roof, snapping into action where he was needed most.

Beckett got to work on the front steps, fixing the broken railing, as I headed inside to clean up the mess the flood had left behind.

I stepped in, and the cold hit me like a wall. Damp, stale, the kind of chill that settled deep in your bones.

The place was a wreck. Buckled floorboards, soggy drywall, muddy footprints from when we’d rushed to shut the water off during the storm.

I exhaled hard and rolled up my sleeves.

First up: the living room. I dragged the ruined rug outside, the thing heavy and reeking like wet dog. Then the furniture. Soaked cushions, warped wood.

I wiped a hand across my forehead, already sweating under my flannel even though my breath fogged in the air.

I found a rhythm. Haul, scrub, dump. Over and over, my muscles burning, my body moving on autopilot. It felt good, honestly. Grounding.

Something I could control, unlike everything else.

But my mind? That was a whole other story.

Every damn time I paused to catch my breath, my brain dragged me right back to last night. Riley’s moans, the way her body arched under mine, her eyes glassy with pleasure, her lips parted and begging for more.

Fuck. I could still taste her, still smell her on my skin like a brand.

And the look she’d given us after, soft and sleepy and shining, like we were her whole damn world.

I slammed the mop into the bucket, jaw tight.

We were in deep. Way deeper than any of us had planned.

A thud overhead made me glance up. Garrett stomping across the roof, hammering down a new tarp to cover the worst of the damage.

Beckett’s muttered curses floated in from outside… something about stripped screws and frozen hinges.

I grabbed the industrial fan and set it up by the water-damaged wall, flipping it on. The roar filled the room, drowning out everything else.

But not my thoughts.

How the hell were we supposed to keep this going? It wouldn’t be easy with Lucy around. But coming clean… crap. That was a whole other beast.

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