Page 32

Rilee

The light through the hotel curtains is soft and gray, barely breaking through, but it’s enough to tug me out of sleep.

The first thing I notice?

Warmth.

The second?

Arms.

I blink my eyes open slowly and realize I’m being held. Not loosely. Not casually.

Tightly.

Grayson’s behind me, one arm wrapped snug around my waist, the other tucked under my head like a pillow. My back is pressed to his chest. His body molds around mine like we were made to fit this way.

And he’s still asleep.

I stay still, heart thudding softly, taking in the quiet rise and fall of his chest against my back. The soft brush of his breath at the base of my neck. The weight of his hand splayed over my stomach.

He cuddles like it’s instinct. Like I’m his favorite stuffed animal and he’s never letting me go.

And I… kind of love it.

I shift slightly, just enough to glance over my shoulder. His eyes are still closed, but his brow twitches—like he’s waking up.

And then—

“Morning,” he murmurs, voice low and rough with sleep.

“Morning,” I whisper back.

He blinks slowly, like it’s taking him a second to catch up to reality.

His arms don’t move.

“You’re really good at the whole human-heating-pad thing,” I say, smiling.

He exhales a soft laugh, still drowsy. “You didn’t push me away.”

“I didn’t want to,” I admit.

I roll onto my side to face him.

His eyes meet mine—soft and serious, just a hint of something more behind them.

“I like this,” he says quietly. “Waking up like this.”

My breath catches.

“I do too.”

We stay like that for a moment longer, everything gentle and still. The kind of quiet that feels like safety, not silence.

Then Grayson’s thumb brushes the sliver of skin exposed between my tank top and the waistband of my shorts.

“Do you think…” he starts, then shakes his head, almost shy. “Never mind.”

“No,” I say, turning slightly so I can see more of his face. “Say it.”

He hesitates, then, “Do you think it’s possible to feel too much and still not know what to do with any of it?”

My heart tugs.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I think I know exactly what that feels like.”

“Breakfast?” he asks.

I nod. I’m guessing that’s where Caleb and Hunter have already headed off to.

We get dressed and head out. The day passes in a blur of good coffee, quiet study sessions, and solo window shopping through the city.

I find a cozy corner in a little bookstore café, review flashcards while sipping a chai latte, and even sneak in a couple of texts—one from Caleb checking in and another from Grayson asking if I’m doing okay.

By the time I make it back to the hotel, the guys have won their game.

And the mood is electric .

Now we’re tucked into a corner booth at a loud, overly warm sports bar that smells like beer and fried everything. The team’s scattered across a couple of tables, but it’s me, Hunter, Caleb, and Grayson sharing one—and somehow, it feels like the eye of the storm.

Hunter’s even smiling. Smiling .

I blink twice just to be sure.

“They still talking about that ridiculous third-period goal?” I ask, sipping a cocktail Caleb ordered for me.

“He skated through four guys like they were traffic cones,” Caleb says proudly, clinking his glass against Hunter’s. “I almost cried it was so pretty.”

“You did cry,” Grayson deadpans, feeding me a fry off his plate.

“Nah, I just got something in my eye,” Caleb defends, tossing a napkin at him.

I laugh and grab the fry. “I’m sure all looked hot out there. I mean— like pros . Focused.”

Caleb winks at me. Grayson doesn’t, but his smirk says plenty.

Then Hunter clears his throat.

“All right,” he says, leaning forward like a parent about to lay down curfew rules. “I know we’re feeling good, and everyone’s in a celebratory mood. Which is why I feel the need to say this.” His expression darkens. “There will be abso-fucking-lutely no special cuddles tonight. Am I clear?”

Grayson sips his drink with zero expression.

Caleb? Immediately grins and salutes. “Yes, Dad.” Then turns to me with a conspiratorial wink.

And I swear the restaurant gets warmer.

Grayson lifts his beer and takes a slow sip.

Hunter scrubs a hand down his face like he regrets his entire life. “Can we just eat and not turn this into another weird sexual tension Olympics?”

“Oh, please,” I say sweetly. “Like you’re not dying to win gold.”

That earns a bark of laughter from Caleb and the ghost of a grin from Grayson. Hunter glares at all three of us.

Caleb leans in, eyes bright. “You know what we need?”

“I’m scared to ask,” I say.

“Game night. Bar style. Come on—truth or dare or never have I ever. Your pick, Riles.”

I glance at the guys. All eyes on me. Expectant. Maybe a little dangerous.

Truth or dare would be reckless.

Never have I ever? Slightly less reckless. Slightly.

I take another sip. “Fine. Never have I ever.”

Caleb claps once, delighted. “Now we’re talking.”

Hunter groans. “This is a terrible idea.”

“Great,” I say. “We agree again.”

We all raise our drinks.

Caleb starts. “Never have I ever hooked up with someone on the team.”

Grayson gives a small shake of his head while Caleb takes a sip. They glance at each other and smirk.

My eyes narrow. “Wait. Who?”

“Rookie year,” Caleb says casually. “Keg party. A very eager puck bunny. Our left winger at the time. Dark room. A lot of confusion. I’m still processing.”

Hunter looks horrified.

I’m only curious. “Processing what exactly?”

Caleb’s mouth lifts in a sexy smile. “Came to the conclusion that I’m mostly straight.”

Mostly .

It’s an interesting word. One I plan to ponder later.

“My turn,” I say, eyes glinting. “Never have I ever been in love.”

Silence.

Then Caleb sips.

So does Grayson. A slow, measured drink, like the kind that says don’t ask .

Hunter doesn’t move. Neither do I.

Interesting.

Caleb nudges me. “Your turn, Rilee.”

I sip. Slowly.

His brows lift. “Oh really?”

I glance at my glass. “Once. A long time ago.”

“Does he know?” Caleb asks.

“Pretty sure he never had a clue.”

Hunter shifts beside me, jaw tight.

I don’t look at him.

Caleb taps the table. “Grayson. Hit us.”

Grayson tilts his head, eyes on me. “Never have I ever fantasized about someone I shouldn’t.”

I freeze.

Then sip.

So does Caleb.

Grayson does not.

Hunter drains the rest of his drink.

Caleb’s eyes gleam. “All right, grumpy. Spill it. Who’s the fantasy?”

“Pass,” Hunter mutters.

“Nope,” Caleb says. “That’s not how this works.”

Hunter’s eyes flick to me, then away. “Not saying.”

Which is, of course, saying everything.

The air shifts.

Caleb whistles low. “Okay then.”

To break the tension, I turn to Grayson. “Your tattoos. You get them all at once, or one at a time?”

Grayson blinks. “You sure you want that for your turn?”

“I’ll allow it.”

He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Started sophomore year. One after another. Got the wolf after I transferred. Needed something that looked like strength. Even when I didn’t feel it.”

That lands heavy.

But then he looks at me, eyes soft. “You ever think about getting one?”

“Yeah,” I admit. “Just never got brave enough.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just holds my gaze a little longer than he should.

Then Hunter scoffs. “You? Not brave? That’s rich.”

The compliment is so unexpected I don’t know what to say. Unless of course it’s not a compliment and he’s going to go back to slut-shaming me.

I grab my drink. “Game’s over.”

But Caleb reaches for my hand under the table.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

I nod once and force my lips into what I hope resembles a smile.

The walk back to the hotel is ridiculous in the best way.

It’s freezing, our breaths puff out in clouds, but no one seems to care. Caleb’s got his arm thrown over my shoulders, Grayson’s on my other side quietly humming along to the off-key version of “Mr. Brightside” that Hunter and two teammates are butchering ahead of us.

I’m tipsy. Happy. And entirely surrounded by giant hockey players who just won a game and apparently think the sidewalk is a parade route.

Hunter slaps the back of Caleb’s head when he tries to do a twirl with me. “Save the spins for the ice, ballerina.”

Caleb just grins and keeps singing louder.

By the time we reach the hotel, my face is frozen from laughing.

Inside the room, the warmth is a shock.

I barely get my coat off before Caleb grabs my hand, flops onto the bed, and pulls me into his lap.

“C’mere, celebratory snuggles are medically necessary.”

I laugh, settling on his thighs, hands finding his chest automatically. “Is that a new diagnosis?”

“It is now,” he says—and then he’s kissing me.

Warm. Eager. Smiling against my mouth like he just scored the winning goal and this is the real reward.

I forget the rest of the room for a second. Forget the hotel. The noise.

Until—

“ Bro ,” Hunter snaps. “We just talked about this!”

I freeze.

Caleb sighs but doesn’t move. “We were celebrating.”

Hunter’s jaw ticks. “That doesn’t look like celebrating. That looks like second base in a room we’re all sharing.”

“Relax,” Grayson says from his bed, voice calm. “They’re not exactly undressing.”

“Yet,” Caleb mutters under his breath.

I elbow him.

Hunter throws up his hands and grabs a pillow. “I’m sleeping in the goddamn lobby.”

“You’re such a drama queen,” I call after him as the door slams.

Caleb kisses my temple and flops back on the bed, pulling me down with him.

Grayson tosses him a water bottle. “You’re gonna need this.”

Caleb winks. “For the hangover?”

“For her,” Grayson says, eyes flicking to me for a half second too long.

My heart flips.

Yeah. It’s going to be a long night.

Everyone’s quieter now.

Post-laughter, post-drinks, post-Hunter freakout.

Grayson brushes past me at the sink, his shoulder grazing mine as I finish brushing my teeth. He doesn’t say anything, but when I look up, he’s watching me in the mirror.

That unreadable expression. Soft around the edges.