Page 65 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“What about Jasper?” she said, drawing out his name.

“Oh my god." I nearly choked on my cocoa. “That was forever ago. Trust me. He is definitely not the father. It’s been, like, ten months. Minimum. And he couldn’t have gotten me pregnant even if hetried. I’m pretty sure his swimmers were too busy debating eco ethics to actually swim.”

Lucy burst out laughing, hiding her face behind her mug. “Fair. But still. Stranger things have happened. And you’ve been kind of glowy.”

“Glowy?” I raised a brow.

“Yeah, glowy. Like, you’ve got that flushed, weirdly radiant, I’m-keeping-a-secret look. Either you’re pregnant, or you’ve been hiding a secret hookup with the guy from the general store.”

I rolled my eyes. “Definitely not the general store guy.”

“Then who?”

“Lucy, seriously. I’m not pregnant. I’m just tired.”

But even as I said it, something twisted inside me. Not fear, exactly. More uncertainty. A flicker of doubt I couldn’t quite shake.

Becauserecentlydidn’t meannever.

And there had beenthem.

My breath caught.

No. No way.

It couldn’t be.

But the symptoms lined up. The fatigue, the nausea, the mood swings, even the craving for hot cocoa every damn night like my life depended on it.

I pulled my blanket up tighter, the weight of it suddenly feeling too much. The movie blurred in the background, snow falling, someone declaring love under mistletoe, but I couldn’t focus.

It was as if I was slipping down a slope I hadn’t even realized I was standing on.

Lucy didn’t notice. She was half-watching the screen again, her hand absentmindedly scrolling on her laptop.

But the idea had rooted in my mind now, stubborn and heavy.

What if Iwaspregnant? And what if the father was one of the Wolfe brothers?

My stomach turned, but this time it wasn’t the cocoa.

I swallowed hard.

What the hell was I going to do next?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Beckett

Medford always lookedlike a postcard this time of year.

The Winter Lantern Parade had crept up on me like it did every December, quiet, bright, and impossible to avoid. The whole town turned out for it, bundled up and smiling as if the cold didn’t bite at your knuckles the second you left the house.

I didn’t do crowds. Never had. But Lucy had given Garrett a look earlier this week that saidshow up or die, so here we were.

The lanterns floated above the crowd, strung between the street lamps like little glowing stars. Kids ran past with paper ones on sticks, laughing, shouting, their breath puffing out in clouds.

Someone was playing live music on the steps of the courthouse—local musician Cameron Brooks, probably—and the air smelled of cinnamon sugar and woodsmoke.

---