Page 34

Rilee

I wake up to the sound of a fork clinking gently against a plate.

The room is too bright, the sheets too warm, and my brain—traitorous as ever—serves up blurry flashes from last night. Heat. Hands. Mouths. Two very large hockey players wrecking me in the best possible ways.

I groan into my pillow.

Nope. Not thinking about it. Not until I’ve brushed my teeth and maybe scrubbed off the lingering memory of being enthusiastically tag-teamed.

Except… there’s a noise again. Someone clearing their throat.

I peek one eye open.

Caleb is sitting on the edge of the bed, hair wet from a shower, legs spread, plate balanced on one knee. He’s got a forkful of eggs paused halfway to his mouth, and his expression is somewhere between sheepish and… guilty?

Grayson is at the window, shirtless, arms crossed, gaze fixed on something very far away. He’s unusually quiet too—no teasing smirk, no heated glances. Just that heavy silence that says everyone’s still replaying things in their heads and wondering what the hell comes next.

I sit up slowly, tugging the sheets around me like they’ll protect me from the awkwardness.

“Morning,” I say, voice scratchy.

Caleb sets down his plate and touches my ankle. “Hey.”

It’s too careful. Too quiet.

I feel my cheeks flush.

Grayson turns, meets my gaze for half a second, and says softly, “You okay?”

I nod. “Yeah. I’m good.”

But my voice is small. Like I’m not sure if I’m allowed to be good.

Caleb shifts, bracing his elbows on his knees. “If there was anything last night that wasn’t okay… I need you to tell me.” His voice is low, earnest. “Because I hate the idea that we used you with less care than you deserve.”

My heart twists.

“I was there,” I say. “I wanted it. All of it.”

Grayson’s eyes flick to mine again, unreadable. Then, “Still. We didn’t… talk beforehand. Not really. It just happened.”

“And now everyone’s treating me like I’m made of glass,” I mutter, yanking the sheet tighter. “Can we maybe skip the post-mortem? I’m not gonna fall apart. I’m just… embarrassed. And a little dehydrated.”

That earns the ghost of a smile from Caleb.

Then—

A door slams.

We freeze.

Footsteps. Heavy ones.

Hunter.

Caleb curses under his breath. “Right on cue.”

I groan. “Please tell me he didn’t see anything.”

Grayson looks slightly guilty, pink creeping up his neck.

I bury my face in the pillow. “Cool. I’m moving out. Immediately.”

Caleb chuckles, but it’s strained. “We’ll deal with him.”

“No,” I say quickly. “No one deal with anyone. I’m fine. Everything’s fine. No one speak of this. Ever.”

Silence.

Then, Grayson’s voice, low and gruff, “Copy that.”

Caleb salutes with his fork. “Operation: Complete Denial it is.”

Hunter yells from the bathroom, “Someone left their toiletries all over the counter. If I find out whose it is, I’m cutting off your water supply.”

Caleb winces. “We’re all going to die.”

I flop back onto the mattress, pulling the covers over my head.

“I already have.”

The knife slices through the cucumber with a satisfying crunch, the rhythm steady as I prepare a snack. The afternoon sun filters through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow on the countertop. We’ve been back home for a few days, and things are… mostly normal.

My phone buzzes beside me, displaying Fletcher’s name. I wipe my hands and answer.

“Hey, Fletch.”

“Hey, Riles.” His voice carries a warmth that instantly puts me at ease. “Got a minute?”

“Always for you.”

He chuckles softly. “Just wanted to let you know things are looking up. I’ve been keeping my head down, and they’ve granted me a visit. I’m planning to come see you soon.”

A smile spreads across my face. “That’s great news! I’ve missed you.”

“Missed you too. I’m sorry about missing family day. Had some… setbacks. But I’m working on it.”

“It’s alright. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks. So, how have you been? What’s new?”

I pause, the memories of Chicago flooding back—Caleb’s teasing grin, Grayson’s intense gaze, the unspeakable things we shared in the hotel bed that still make my cheeks warm. I clear my throat.

“Not much. Just school and stuff.”

“Uh-huh. That ‘stuff’ sounds interesting.”

I laugh, trying to sound casual. Breathe, Rilee . “Just the usual.”

If the usual involves two of his teammates making me sore for the past two days.

“Alright, I’ll let it go—for now. Can’t wait to catch up in person.”

“Me neither. When are you coming?”

“Next weekend,” he says.

Next weekend?

“That’s okay with you, right?” he says, doubt creeping in.

“Of course,” I stammer. “I’m just still, you know, homeless and staying with the guys.”

He makes an unconcerned sound. “No worries, the number of times I’ve crashed on their couch, I’ll be right at home there. They’re treating you alright?”

My brain scrambles as visions flash before my eyes. Caleb’s close inspection of me post-sex. Grayson’s appraising frown. Hunter’s tortured look.

“Yep!” I squeak.

Fletcher chuckles. “Good. Because if I found out they touched one hair on your head, I’d fucking end them.”

My stomach bottoms out.

“Riles? Still there?” he asks at my sudden silence.

“Yeah. Sorry.” My hands shake, and I set down the knife, abandoning a snack I’m no longer interested in eating.

“It’s okay. Look, I’ve gotta go. But I’ll see you next weekend, okay?”

We exchange goodbyes, and I hang up, already internally panicking about having my brother here.