Page 30 of Well That Happened

Rilee

Two days later, it’s confirmed that yes, I definitely needed clothes on this trip.

Chicago is freezing in mid-November. The hotel lobby is buzzing with hockey energy—loud voices, rowdy boy energy, rolling bags thumping across tile.

Half the team’s already milling around the check-in desk, excited and restless in that pregame way that feels almost contagious.

We roll in behind them, dragging our own bags, and step in front of the lobby’s check-in area. Caleb has his arm looped around my waist, his chin resting on top of my head like I’m his personal anchor. I should probably be annoyed, but the truth? It feels good. Easy. Familiar.

Grayson’s behind me in line. His hands find my shoulders without a word, thumbs pressing into the tightest muscles like he’s been mapping my stress all week. He doesn’t say much, but the way he touches me says everything.

I should probably be flustered. I’m not.

The three of us are riding somewhere between road trip giddy and mildly sleep-deprived feral.

The fourth member of our group?

Hunter looks like he might commit a felony.

Specifically, against the poor hotel desk clerk.

“What do you mean,” he says slowly, voice tight, “the captain always gets a solo room.”

The clerk flinches. “We had to condense a few of the reservations. But your group still has a two-queen room on the fourth floor.”

“One room,” Hunter repeats.

“Yes, sir.”

Caleb lifts his chin from my head. “We’re all sharing?”

“Two beds,” the clerk offers. “One room. Just for tonight. We’ll have an extra rollaway by morning.”

Hunter’s jaw clenches so hard I swear I hear it pop.

Meanwhile, Caleb just shrugs. “Cozy.”

Grayson doesn’t say anything, but he’s still massaging slow, lazy circles into my shoulders like nothing in the world could bother him.

I glance between the guys. “I can sleep on the floor if it’s a problem.”

“No,” Caleb says instantly.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” Grayson agrees, hands tightening.

Hunter mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like This is exactly what I was worried about and turns away, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.

“Hunter,” I start.

He spins back around. “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine . He looks like he’s about to have a coronary.

But no one pushes it.

Keys get handed out. Bags get hoisted. And somehow, this trip just got a whole lot more interesting.

The hotel room door swings open and… oh.

Yeah. This is going to be a disaster.

Two queen beds. One chair. One small table. A TV mounted to the wall and a floor space so limited, you’d have to turn sideways to change your mind.

“Cozy,” Caleb says again, wheeling his duffel in with a grin.

Grayson steps inside behind him, cool and unreadable—except for the way his eyes flick to me and linger just long enough to do damage.

Hunter’s the last one in. His bag hits the floor with a thud. The tension rolls off him in waves.

Caleb immediately dives onto the nearest bed. “Dibs!”

I raise an eyebrow. “Are we twelve?”

“Mentally? Absolutely,” he says, stretching like a smug cat. “Also, this one has a better view of the TV.”

Hunter mutters something unintelligible and claims the other bed by sitting on the edge like he’s about to internally combust.

Grayson leans against the dresser, arms folded, taking it all in with that usual deadpan calm.

Caleb bounces once on the mattress, then reaches up and kisses me—quick, warm, boyish. Just because he can.

“I’m gonna set up in the bathroom,” I say, grabbing my toiletry kit and escaping to the tiny bath. It smells like lemon cleaner. I unpack my things, arrange my toothbrush, and take a breath.

When I step back out, Caleb’s adjusting himself and smirking.

“I might need a pregame spank session later,” he says under his breath, voice low.

“Excuse me?” I hiss, laughing under it.

“Just keeping morale high,” he replies, deadpan.

Everyone’s on edge. Not in a bad way—just charged. Amped. Like we’re all coiled springs stretched too far.

I sit on the corner of Caleb’s bed, cross-legged. The hum of the city beyond the window is muffled but steady.

My phone buzzes.

Caleb: All clear.

Attached are his test results.

My breath catches just a little, heart skipping. I glance up and meet his eyes across the room. His expression is warm. Smitten. A little bit cocky.

Then a second message lands.

Also from Caleb.

Caleb: So is Gray.

Attached is another file with the name Grayson Alexander Cole.

My entire spine goes straight.

I blink. Stare at the screen. Then slowly glance up—

Grayson’s watching me.

Not smiling. Just heat. Controlled but unmistakable.

I whip back to Caleb, whose face is also unreadable.

Hunter, still sitting tensely near the door, narrows his eyes. “What’s so interesting?”

“NOTHING,” I blurt, way too fast.

Everyone stares at me.

I cough. “Just… looking at the weather.”

“The weather’s texting you?” Hunter mutters, unconvinced.

I shove my phone under a pillow and will my heartbeat to calm the hell down.

Yeah. This trip is going to be a whole thing.

Hunter stands up abruptly, grabbing his keys off the dresser. “I’m starving. The hotel restaurant’s gonna be a zoo with half the team rolling in. Pizza anyone?”

Caleb hops off the bed. “I’ll go with you.”

Grayson glances over from where he’s leaned against the window, arms still folded. “I’ll stay. Look after Rilee.”

The way he says it—casual, but heavy. Like he already knows I’m seconds away from melting down.

Something low and needy uncurls in my belly.

“Pepperoni and mushrooms?” I manage.

Caleb nods, grinning. “Extra cheese?”

“Surprise me,” I manage.

Hunter still looks annoyed—because of course he does—but he grabs his jacket and mutters, “Be back soon.”

The door closes behind them.

Silence falls.

Grayson straightens from the window, pushing off the sill. The look in his eyes is quiet, unreadable, and devastating.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t read too much into that text.”

I blink. “Oh.”

“I got tested because it’s routine for the team,” he says, crossing the room toward me. “It was time. And Caleb asked. That’s all. There’s exactly zero pressure.”

But there’s tension in his shoulders, like he’s bracing for me to pull back.

I cross the room and kiss him.

Just—kiss him. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

He freezes for half a second. Then responds with a low, almost broken sound. His hands come up, settle on my hips.

“What if I want…” I start, voice soft against his mouth.

His hands tighten just slightly. “What do you want, Rilee?”

God, the way he says my name.

All sultry and low like that.

I glance at the door. “How long do you think it’ll take them to get that pizza?”

“Not nearly long enough,” he murmurs, brushing his lips over my jaw.

Still—we kiss anyway.

Slow, steady, burning.

His hands slip lower, cup my ass like he’s been wanting to do it for days. Like he can’t get enough of just… touching me. Savoring the shape of me beneath his fingers.

I let out a quiet, shaky breath.

His mouth moves along my neck, trailing heat. One of his hands slides up under the hem of my shirt, skimming bare skin with featherlight pressure.

“You’re driving me insane,” he whispers, lips grazing the shell of my ear.

“Likewise.”

He pulls me closer—so close we’re practically fused—and the hard line of his arousal presses into my stomach. We both feel it. We both know where this could go.

But instead of rushing, Grayson just holds me tighter.

Breathing hard.

Wanting. Waiting.

And somehow, that restraint is even hotter.

Grayson pulls away first. Barely.

His breath ghosts against my lips, his hands still heavy on my hips.

Then he closes his eyes for a beat like he’s trying to get his internal systems under control. “I’m gonna go take a cold shower.”

I smirk, but my whole body is vibrating.

“Are you sure?” I whisper.

He shoots me a look—half wrecked, half amused—and disappears into the bathroom without another word.