Page 80 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
I hope someday you'll understand why I had to do this.
Thank you so much for everything.
XOXO,
Skye
I read the letter over twice. It's not enough. It could never be enough. But it's all I have to offer.
I fold the paper carefully and write their names on the outside. For a moment, I consider writing three separate letters, but what would I say differently to each of them? How could I put into words the specific ways each one touched my heart? No, this will have to do.
I place the letter on the dresser, propped against the lamp where they'll be sure to see it. My bag sits by the door, zipped and ready. I glance around the room one last time, trying tomemorize the way the light falls through the curtains, the creak of the floorboards, the smell of pine that permeates everything.
This small room above a bar in a town I'd never heard of has become more of a home than anywhere I've lived since my childhood home. I press my palm against the doorframe, a silent goodbye to the space that held so much unexpected joy.
The stairs creak beneath my feet as I descend, my heart hammering against my ribs. If Buck is already here, prepping for later today... No. I can't think about that. I strain my ears for any sound of movement in the kitchen, but the bar below is silent.
I step into the main room. Empty bottles from last night wait to be cleared away. The pool table stands silent, waiting for the day's first players. Everything is exactly as it should be, except I won't be here to see it come alive.
My throat tightens as I cross to the door, my footsteps echoing in the empty space. I pause with my hand on the knob, half-hoping someone was here to stop me.
I slip outside into the cool morning air, pulling the door shut behind me with a soft click.
The morning air nips at my skin as I make my way to Jed's shop. Flounder Ridge is just beginning to wake up—lights flickering on in houses, a few early risers walking dogs or collecting newspapers.
I quicken my pace, keeping my head down. The last thing I need is to run into a familiar face and have to explain why I'm lugging my heavy bag through town at this hour.
Please let Jed be there already. Please don't let anyone stop me.
Jed's shop comes into view, and I nearly sob with relief when I see the lights on inside.
I push open the door, and the familiar smell of oil, grease, and burnt coffee wraps around me. Jed is bent over an engine, his weathered hands steady as they adjust some part. Theradio plays softly in the background—classic country, someone singing about the good times making the bad times easier to take.
"Morning," I call out, my voice steadier than I feel.
Jed straightens, wiping his hands on a rag that might have been red once but is now mostly the color of engine grease. "Well, look who's up with the roosters," he says, his crooked smile genuine. "Come for your girl, have ya?"
I nod, setting my bag down. "Thought I'd get an early start."
He gestures toward the back of the shop where Poppy sits gleaming under the fluorescent lights. "She's all ready for you."
I follow him to my car, running my hand along her familiar red hood. She looks better than she has in years—the paint seems brighter somehow, the chrome accents shinier. Jed must have shined her up for me.
"How much do I owe you?" I ask, dreading the answer.
Jed scratches his beard. "Well, parts were pricier than I expected—but seeing as it took longer than I promised..." He names a figure that's notably less than his original estimate.
"You don't have to do that," I say, surprised by the discount.
He waves me off. "Consider it my way of saying sorry for keeping you stuck here so long."
"Don't be sorry. If it hadn't taken so long, I never would have..." I trail off, unable to finish the sentence. Never would have fallen for three amazing men at once. Never would have discovered parts of myself I didn't know existed. Never would have felt so completely alive.
Jed's eyes soften. "Made some friends here, huh?"
"Something like that." I dig into my purse for the cash I've been saving from my bar tips. The money feels warm in my hand, earned in that space that's become so much more than just a bar to me. Each bill represents drinks served, jokes shared,moments of connection with the people of this town. With Griff, Buck, and Ford.
I count out the amount and hand it to Jed, who tucks it into the pocket of his overalls without counting it.
