Page 85 of Stuck with my Mountain Daddies

But my pulse was thudding hard in my throat, and it sure as hell didn’t feel steady.

Behind me, fabric shifted. Wood creaked. Beckett moving. Always careful. He'd slipped out from under her like a shadow and was crossing the room without saying a word, stopping near the kitchen.

I didn’t turn. Didn’t need to. I could feel him watching me.

Same way I’d been watchingher.

“Morning, Garrett… whoa. You got a face like thunder.”

I didn’t answer. Just shot Beckett a look.

He winced as if I’d punched him. “Oh, Damn. This is about last night, isn’t it?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Mmhmm.” He tilted his head like he didn’t buy it for a second. “So that’s a no on talking about it, then?”

I kept my eyes on the steam rising from the kettle. “Nothing to talk about.”

Behind me, Beckett scoffed. Loud enough to be deliberate. “Bullshit.”

I didn’t rise to it. Opened the cabinet. Grabbed three mugs.

“Last night wasn’t nothing, and you know it,” he said. “Hell, we all knew it the second we saw she hadn’t left town. She isn’t a tourist anymore.”

“Let it go,” I muttered. “I’m not doing this right now.”

“Garrett—”

“I said drop it.”

Silence stretched long and tight. I could feel him behind me, arms crossed, ready to dig in.

“You think ignoring it makes it disappear?” he finally said. “That your feelings will up and vanish because it’s messy and you don’t like messy?”

I turned then. Slowly. Controlled. “It’s not about convenience, Beckett.”

He didn’t back down. He raised an eyebrow like he was waiting for the part where I stopped lying to myself.

“Then what is it about? ’Cause from where I’m standing, it looks a hell of a lot like you finally got something you wanted. And now you’re scared of it.”

“That’s not true.”

He gave me a look that said,Sure, tell yourself that.

The kettle started to hiss behind me.

“This isn’t just about me,” I snapped, gesturing vaguely toward the couch. Riley was still asleep, curled up, completely unaware. “It’s Lucy’s best friend. It’sus. All of us. This? It’s too much. We already screwed it up once, and if we do it again?—”

“It’s not a mess because ofher,” Beckett said, cutting me off. “It’s turning into one because you’re acting like you’re seconds from running out the door. As if you didn’t feel the same damn thing the rest of us did last night.”

My chest got tight. “That’s not fair.”

“No,” he said, quieter now. “What’s not fair is her waking up thinking you regret touching her.”

I looked away.

Because yeah. That was exactly what she’d think.

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