Page 24

Rilee

The engine hums beneath us as Caleb’s truck barrels down the highway, the windshield wipers working overtime against the early afternoon rain. Gray clouds stretch across the sky like someone has dragged a wet sponge across the sun.

I’m wedged in the middle seat—Caleb on my right, one hand on the wheel, the other resting just above my knee. His thumb traces slow, absent circles against my jeans, as if he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. But I feel every brush like static in my blood.

Grayson’s on my left, leaned back with his legs stretched out and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. Casual. Calm. Watching the sky.

We’re on our way to see Fletcher—my first chance since he went away. I feel like I’m bracing myself for something I can’t name.

“If you’re tired,” Grayson says, his voice low and warm, “I’ve heard I make an excellent pillow.”

I smile, grateful for the offer. I lean into him, my head settling on his shoulder as the truck bobs along the highway.

His hoodie smells like clean laundry and soap, and the steady rhythm of the engine should be soothing. But my nerves keep buzzing. My hands won’t stop fidgeting. I’ve rehearsed what I want to say to Fletcher at least twenty times—and I still don’t know if it’s enough.

When we finally pull into the gravel lot outside the facility, my pulse spikes. It’s a low, modern building surrounded by evergreens. Not bleak. Not cold. But clinical enough to make my throat tighten.

“You ready for this?” Grayson asks as we walk.

“I think so,” I reply softly.

Caleb takes my hand.

Inside, we line up to check in. The front desk smells like disinfectant and someone’s overzealous perfume.

“Name?” the receptionist asks.

“Fletcher Jameson,” I say.

She types it into the computer and frowns.

“Sorry,” she says, looking up. “His visitation rights were revoked.”

My stomach drops. “What does that mean?”

Caleb steps forward, his voice polite but firm. “We drove hours to get here. Is there any way—”

“I can’t give you details,” she interrupts. “I’m sorry.”

Grayson exhales through his nose. “Is there someone else we can talk to?”

The receptionist hesitates, her fingers hovering above the keyboard. She finally nods. “One

second.”She disappears through a side door, and I shift from foot to foot, my heart pounding against my ribs as if it’s trying to break free. Caleb steps a little closer, the warmth of his arm brushing against mine. Grayson remains steady and still beside me—watchful and unreadable.

A woman in scrubs and a name badge returns a minute later, calm and professional, but her eyes soften when she sees me.

“You’re here for Fletcher Jameson?”

“Yes,” I reply quickly. “I’m his sister.”

She nods, then glances toward the receptionist before lowering her voice slightly.

“I’m sorry you weren’t notified in advance.

Fletcher’s had a difficult week, with several behavioral infractions—verbal outbursts and missed group work.

As a result, his visitation privileges have been temporarily revoked. ”

The words hit me like a punch to the chest.

“Oh,” I manage to say.

“He’s not in danger,” she adds gently. “But we’re trying to support him through this phase, and sometimes that means limiting outside contact until he stabilizes.”

I nod, my eyes stinging.

Caleb places a steadying hand at the small of my back. Grayson remains quiet, but I can feel his sharp, focused gaze on me.

“If there’s anything you’d like us to tell him,” she continues, “we’re happy to pass along a message.”

I clear my throat. “No. It’s okay. Just… thank you.”

She gives me a sympathetic smile before walking away.

The silence that follows is deafening.

I blink rapidly and take a deep breath, but it doesn’t stop the disappointment from curling through me.

“Another time then,” Grayson says, and I nod.

We turn away slowly. I feel like a balloon has just popped inside my chest.

Back at the truck, I try not to lose it. Caleb climbs in beside me, his jaw tight, but he doesn’t say anything. Grayson slams his door shut. The silence is thick.

I feel like an idiot; I’ve wasted not only Caleb’s day but also Grayson’s, who was sweet enough to ride along, promising to play DJ for us and make the trip more bearable.

As we pull away from the rehab facility, it begins to pour—fierce and unrelenting. The windshield wipers struggle to keep up with the downpour, and visibility becomes nearly nonexistent.

My frustration bubbles over, a mix of everything that’s gone wrong today. “This day couldn’t get any worse.”

No sooner have the words left my mouth than a crack of lightning nearly blinds us. I let out a surprised yelp. It’s raining so hard that we can’t see through the windshield, despite the wipers being turned up to maximum.

Caleb pulls the truck over to the side of the road and turns to me, his expression softening. “I know this sucks. But sometimes life throws us curveballs we can’t control. We’ll find another day to visit your brother, I promise.”

Tears threaten to spill over, a combination of anger, disappointment, and a strange sense of relief that Caleb understands my frustration. “I just wanted to see him, you know? To make sure he’s okay and to let him know I’m here for him.”

Caleb reaches over, drawing me closer, and rubs my shoulder gently. “I know. And we’ll make sure he knows. But for now, let’s wait out this rain. You’re not alone.”

His words do wonders to calm me. I’d been so angry when we were turned away from the rehab center, but now I focus on releasing a slow exhale. Grayson pats my knee, a small smile on his face. “He’s right, Rilee. We’re here for you, no matter what.”

As the rain pounds on the roof of the truck, I feel warmth spreading through me.

Despite the disappointments of the day, I’m reminded of the friends I have by my side.

In this unexpected moment on the side of the road, I find a strange sense of comfort.

I realize that maybe, just maybe, the storm inside me can be weathered with the help of those who care about me.

Grayson looks up at the sky. “This is insane.”

Caleb continues rubbing my shoulders, working out the tight knots. The rain is absolutely torrential, plastering the truck with so much water that we still can’t see a thing.

I make a sound of relaxation. “It means a lot to know you’re here for me.” I give him a grateful smile.

“Absolutely,” he says, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead.

Caleb’s hands move from my shoulders to cup my face. He kisses me slowly, just the soft press of his mouth to mine, sweetly, gently. I kiss him back, indulging in the moment before realizing we have an audience.

I clear my throat, but Caleb doesn’t stop kissing me; he simply moves to my neck and exhales a sigh. “Grayson doesn’t care if I kiss you. Do you, Gray?”

“Not at all,” comes the rumble of a deep voice from the passenger side of the truck.

“See?” Caleb’s warm mouth glides over my skin, and I fight off a shiver. Today has been positively insane, so I really can’t complain that Caleb is making an effort to make me feel good.

His mouth travels from my neck back to my lips, kissing me again. The kiss starts slow but soon becomes molten. He sucks on my tongue, and desire races through me. I’m acutely aware of our audience, but somehow the thought only makes me hotter.

He massages my breasts, his thumbs rubbing over my nipples. “Do you know how perfect these are?”

I let out a small noise of pleasure.

“Most girls have to pay for tits this perfect.” He caresses each of my breasts with his large, calloused hands.

I whimper and reach up, sinking my fingers into his hair to pull his mouth back down to mine.

I should stop him; I should practice self-control, but in this moment, with his tongue in my mouth and his hands on my tits, it’s hard to care about modesty.

Sensation jolts through me as his thumbs glide over my nipples.

When he lifts my top over my head, I briefly realize that maybe we shouldn’t, but by the time he’s unhooking my bra and his hot mouth latches onto my sensitive nipple, all thoughts of stopping him have vanished.

His talented tongue feels incredible, moving from one breast to the other, sucking on my full curves as his stubble leaves goosebumps all over my skin. My brain is clouded with lust—that must be the reason I’m not thinking clearly.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful, Riles,” Caleb whispers. “Doesn’t she have beautiful tits, Grayson?”

Grayson’s warm hand joins Caleb’s, palming my breasts and teasing my nipples. “She’s perfect,” he says, his voice low.

While Grayson lowers his mouth to kiss and lick my breasts, Caleb’s hand drops to the front of my leggings.

He rubs his fingers over my panties, and I tilt my hips.

Caleb takes this as the invitation it is and works his hand under the elastic.

It feels forbidden in all the best ways, like I’m sneaking a look at my Christmas presents and could be caught at any moment.

“I want you to come for me,” Caleb murmurs into the side of my neck as his fingers slide over my clit.

“Yes,” I whisper, dropping my head back onto the seat and rocking my hips into his hand.

Grayson turns my face to his and kisses me deeply while Caleb’s fingers keep stroking.

“So wet for me, angel,” Caleb murmurs.

Caleb gets to work, stripping me of my leggings and panties until I’m completely bare between them. I have no idea how I went from grumpy to aroused so quickly, but here we are.

“You want to ride my cock or my face?” his deep voice rumbles.

As I weigh this tempting offer, Caleb kisses my shoulder and says something to Grayson that I don’t catch.

“Check the glovebox,” he adds.

Grayson opens it and finds a square foil packet, handing it to Caleb.

“Put that on,” I say, my voice shaky.

Caleb undoes the front of his jeans and pulls them down to his knees. Once the condom is on, he strokes himself once, then helps me climb on top of him.