Page 165 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

“But?” Asher pressed.

“But the offer’s still on the table,” I admitted. “And it’s not nothing. Exposure. Sponsors. Probably enough money to put our kid through college twice.”

“Yeah,” Beckett muttered. “And enough attention to ruin what little peace we’ve got left.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“I’m just saying,” Asher added, voice tight, “she’s not immune to that world. None of us are. Especially not when it comes wrapped in praise and paychecks.”

“She’s different now,” I said, though the words tasted uncertain.

Beckett shot me a look. “She’s healing, yeah. But healing and changing aren’t always the same thing.”

It sat heavy between us, this fear we didn’t know how to name.

That she might go back.

That LA might call her back into the chaos, the curation, the version of Riley that couldn’t exist in a town like this.

That we might lose her.

Asher scrubbed a hand down his jaw. “We should talk to her. Let her know we’re here, whatever she decides. That we’re not trying to hold her back?—”

“But we are,” Beckett cut in, tone blunt. “Not in a selfish way, maybe, but we are. We want her to stay. We wantthis.”

He waved a hand at the laughter, the music, the paper stars strung from the rafters.

And we did. God, we did.

We’d built something real with her. Something rare.

But what if it wasn’t enough?

Before any of us could spiral further, Lucy appeared holding her phone like a torch and grinning as if she’d won the lottery.

“You three,” she said, interrupting the heavy cloud of brooding with a single sharp look. “Stop being dramatic in a corner. Come see this.”

“What is it?” Asher asked warily.

“Come on,” she said, already turning.

We followed her over to one of the tables set up near the raffle booth. She spun her phone around so we could see the screen.

It was Riley’s post. Or rather, thecommentson it.

Hundreds of them. Thousands.

Scrolling, scrolling, still going.

“She posted the fundraiser video,” Lucy said. “Talked about Medford, the town, the people, the cause. And look at this.”

The top comments weren’t trolls or paparazzi gossip hounds.

They were fans. Real ones. Old ones. New ones.

This is the kind of content we’ve missed. Love you, Riley.

Medford looks like a dream. If you ever need volunteers, count me in.

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