Page 86 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

And maybe she wasn’t wrong to.

Beckett’s voice dropped even lower. “Look, I get it. This isn’t your thing. Feelings. Wanting something real. But you don’t get to punish her for meaning something to you.”

I let out a sharp breath through my nose. “You done lecturing me?”

He didn’t even blink. “Not even close.”

A groan from the living room cut him off. Asher was up, rubbing the back of his neck, hair sticking up in every direction.

“Damn, you two are louder than a damn sawmill. Can’t a guy sleep in around here?”

“No one told you to play Sleeping Beauty all morning,” Beckett muttered.

Asher smirked and looked between us. “What’s this? Wolfe family drama before coffee? Love that for us. Should we get the gloves out?”

I wasn’t in the mood.

“Shut up, Ash,” I snapped, voice sharper than I meant it to be.

He held up both hands, all mock-innocence. “Easy, man. I’m trying to lighten the mood. You two look like you’re about to throw punches.”

“This isn’t a joke.” The words came fast, clipped. “You think this is a game? Like none of it matters? Like we get to walk away from this and shrug?”

His smirk disappeared. Something colder slipped into his expression.

“No, Garrett,” he said, dead serious, “I don’t think it’s a game. I think you’re scared shitless of actually feeling something real, and instead of owning that, you’re doing what you always do—setting fire to it before anyone else gets the chance to.”

That landed.

Hard.

Before I could throw something back at him, some half-decent defense, or just another hit, a voice cut through it all.

Soft. Rough.

Too clear to ignore.

“Garrett.”

I turned, gut already twisting.

Riley.

She was sitting up, blanket wrapped tight around her, hair a mess, eyes wide, but she wasn’t confused.

She knew. She’d heard.

“I heard you,” she said, voice low but steady. “Everything.”

Blood drained out of me like someone pulled the plug.

“Riley—”

“No.” She shook her head. “I need to know. Was it all a mistake to you?”

The words I wanted to say, “No. Never. You’re the only thing that’s felt real in years,” got stuck behind my teeth.

Because the truth wasn’t clean. And saying it out loud meant I couldn’t take it back.

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