Page 81 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
"You sure you want to take off?" he asks, his voice casual but his eyes searching.
The question hits me hard. "I have to," I say, the words sticking in my throat.
Jed nods like he understands. He digs in his pocket and pulls out my keys. "Take good care of her—she’s special."
For a split second, I consider running back to Devil's Pass, tearing up my letter. But the moment passes, and I close my fingers around the cold metal.
"Thank you," I say. "For everything."
Jed shrugs, apparently uncomfortable with the emotion in my voice. "Just doing my job." He pats Poppy's hood. "Happy to put her back on the road."
I unlock the driver's side door, the familiar creak as it opens sending a wave of nostalgia through me. This is my car. One of the only constants in my tumultuous life since my parents died. I slide into the seat, the leather worn in all the right places from years of my grandfather’s and then my body occupying this exact spot.
I set my bag on the passenger seat and insert the key into the ignition. Poppy roars to life, the engine no longer coughing or sputtering but humming with renewed strength. The sound vibrates through the seat, comforting in its familiarity.
"Drive safe," Jed says, leaning into my open window. "And come back to see us sometime."
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. He steps back, giving me a brief nod before turning to work on the other car. I ease Poppy out of the garage and into the morning sunlight.
As I drive away, I can't help but glance in my rearview mirror. Flounder Ridge spreads out behind me, the mountains rising beyond it like guardians. Somewhere in that collection of buildings is Devil's Pass, where a letter waits to be found. Where the guys will eventually discover I've gone. I wonder how long it will take for them to figure it out.
Tears blur my vision as I reach the town limits, the "Thank You for Visiting Flounder Ridge" sign appearing too soon.
I drive past it, my chest tight. The road stretches ahead, empty and waiting. Wyoming. Charlotte. My so-called real life. All waiting for me to return to them, to pick up where I left off before my car broke down and my heart broke open.
My tears fall freely now as the distance between me and Flounder Ridge grows. But I don't turn back. I can't.
Chapter 24
Griff
Ipull into the parking lot of Devil's Pass a little before eleven, killing the engine but sitting there for a moment, hands still gripping the wheel. Daniel's visit yesterday left me with a knot in my gut that hasn't loosened.
Anger at his disrespect toward Skye tangles with gratitude that he reached out about his mom. It's the first time in years he's asked me for anything, and despite everything, I can't help but feel like it's a tiny crack in the wall between us. I shake my head, pushing those thoughts aside. Right now, I need to check on Skye, make sure she's okay after Daniel's bullshit in the parking lot.
The bar is quiet this time of day. The chairs are still flipped onto tables from last night's closing, the floor freshly mopped. It smells of pine cleaner and stale beer, a combination I've come to find oddly comforting over the years.
I head for the stairs, my boots heavy on the wooden steps. My mind rehearses what I'll say to her—how I'll explain that Daniel's always been a tumultuous kid, how he lashes out when he feels threatened. I’m sure she already knows that though.
I also want to tell her that what happened with his mom might actually be good for him, might help him grow up a little.Mostly, I want to make sure she knows that what he thinks doesn't matter. Not to me, not to Buck or Ford, and it shouldn't matter to her either.
The door to her room is slightly ajar, which is unusual. I knock gently, pushing it open when there's no answer.
"Skye?"
The room is empty.
Not just empty of her presence, but empty of her. The little touches that made it her space over these past weeks—the books stacked on the nightstand, the scarf draped over the chair, the vanilla-scented candle on the dresser—they're all gone. The bed is made, corners tucked in neatly.
"Skye?" I call again, though I already know she's not here.
My eyes land on a folded piece of paper propped against the lamp on the dresser. I see my name written on it, along with Buck's and Ford's in Skye's slightly slanted handwriting. My feet feel leaden as I cross the room to pick it up.
I unfold the paper and my eyes scan the words, each one hitting me like a physical blow.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, continuing to read. Her explanation about Poppy being fixed, about Daniel knowing, about not being strong enough to face the scrutiny. About Vanna telling her about Miranda.
Fuck.
