Page 93 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

Beckett >>Hey. Anything I can do?

Garrett looked storm-eyed every time he walked through the door, haunted in a way that didn’t suit him.

And Asher fidgeted like a kid caught sneaking liquor, kept running his hand through his hair as if it might buy him time.

Neither one would meet my eyes.

That silence was loud. None of us could stand not knowing what was going on with Riley.

So I stopped waiting.

Didn’t say a word to either of them. I grabbed my truck keys and left.

I needed to get into town, to see her face to face.

The road into Medford blurred past the window, snow banks softened from the last melt, and a hard chill was creeping in again.

I drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting uselessly on my thigh, my fingers twitching, needing something to hold onto.

I wasn’t good with words. Never had been.

But this wasn’t about words. This was abouther.

The radio crackled, the old country station playing something slow and low, a song about missing someone you let slip away.

I hated how much it sounded like me. I turned the volume down, then off, but the silence in the cab made my thoughts louder.

What if she’s sick?

What if something happened at the doctor’s?

What if she doesn’t want us anymore?

That last one twisted sharp.

By the time I pulled into Maple Avenue, the sun was low behind the trees, throwing gold across the storefronts. Thankfully, being a small town meant it wasn’t long before I spotted a familiar face.

Lucy.

She was coming out of The Foundry, a grocery bag tucked under one arm, her other hand gripping her keys tight.

“Lucy!” I jumped out of the truck, heading her way. “How is everything?”

Lucy furrowed her brow. “Yeah, good, thanks. What are you doing in town?”

I offered her a one-shouldered shrug. “Just got some stuff to do. Oh, how’s Riley? Everything go okay with the doctor?”

I couldn’t make that sound as casual as I wanted to. But it didn’t seem Lucy was reading too much into my tone.

“She’s okay. She’s dealing with a lot right now.”

My stomach tightened. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” Lucy exhaled, pressing her lips together. “She’s having a hard time. Processing everything.”

“Processing what?” I pressed, heart thudding a little harder now.

She didn’t answer right away. That alone set every alarm in my chest screaming.

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