Page 88 of Bossy Mountain Daddies
"Of course he does," I counter. "He’s your son."
Buck scratches his beard, his expression troubled. "Vanna said she checked his social media yesterday. He hasn't posted anything new about Skye yet."
"Key word being 'yet,'" Griff mutters.
I've reread her goodbye note so many times I have it memorized, searching for clues between the lines, for some hint that she might come back. But the truth is simple: she left because she couldn't handle the scrutiny. Because Daniel made her feel ashamed of what we shared.
"I keep thinking about her alone on that drive," Buck says quietly. "Just her and her thoughts for hours. Was she crying? Was she relieved to get away from us? Was she?—"
"Don't," Griff interrupts, his jaw clenched. "Just don't."
"She made her choice. We have to respect that," I say.
"Respecting her choice doesn't mean we let Daniel keep fucking with her though," Buck says, a rare edge to his voice.
"That's why we're doing this," I remind him. "For her, not for us."
Traffic thickens as we enter the city. I check the address on my phone—a downtown office building where Daniel works as some kind of financial advisor.
"So what exactly is our plan here?" Buck asks. "Just walk in and tell him to back off?"
"Essentially," I nod. "We explain that what Skye does now isn't his business. That she deserves to move on with her life without him poisoning it from afar."
"And if he doesn't listen to reason?" Griff's eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror.
"Then we move to plan B," I say calmly. "Make it clear there will be consequences if he continues."
"What kind of consequences?" Buck asks.
I consider this. "We can post on social media just as easily as he can. None of us have accounts but Vanna does, and she’s got a decent following. I’m sure she’d be happy to help us out."
"I still think a good old-fashioned ass-kicking would be more effective," Griff mutters. “I know that makes me a bad dad but this kid…”
"And get yourself arrested for assault?" I shake my head. "Not gonna work."
We fall silent again as Griff navigates the downtown streets. I check my phone for the hundredth time today, though I know there won't be any messages from her. What would I even say if she did reach out? That we understand why she left? That we're angry she didn't say goodbye in person? That despite everything, I still wake up thinking about her?
We pull into a parking garage attached to a gleaming glass high-rise. Daniel's office is on the twelfth floor. We sit in the parked car for a moment, steeling ourselves.
"Remember," I say as we exit the truck, "we stay calm. We're reasonable men having a reasonable conversation."
"Right," Buck nods. "Reasonable."
"No promises," Griff mutters, but I can tell he's reining himself in.
The elevator ride up is tense, each of us lost in thought.
"What if Skye never comes back?" Buck asks suddenly, giving voice to the fear that's been haunting all of us.
"Then we move on," Griff says firmly, clenching his jaw. "Just like we did before."
"And if she does come back?" I ask, unable to keep the hope from my voice.
Griff meets my eyes. "Then we'll be there for her."
The elevator doors slide open on the twelfth floor, revealing a sleek reception area with glass walls and modern furniture. A sign on the wall reads "Pinnacle Financial Advisors."
The receptionist looks up as we approach her desk, her professional smile faltering slightly as she takes in the three of us—Buck's imposing size, Griff's intense stare, my carefully neutral expression. We must look like an unlikely trio in this polished financial office with its gleaming surfaces and muted color palette.
