Page 36

Rilee

“I still can’t believe I let you drag me out,” I mutter. I’m tired and behind on studying, and to be honest, was not in the mood for a girl’s night out. But it’s Lexi, so of course I caved. I’ve missed her.

Lexi grins, swirling the straw in her dangerously pink cocktail. “Well, it was overdue. I needed proof of life. I also need updates.” She grins wickedly.

We’re tucked into a high-top at The Elm, the new bar off-campus that smells like coconut rum and questionable choices. There’s a guy at the pool table who keeps pretending not to look at Lexi, and another who straight-up walked into a stool trying to stare at her while sipping his beer.

She hasn’t noticed either.

I, on the other hand, am mid-crisis.

“So…” she says, setting her drink down and resting her chin on her hand. “Are we gonna talk about the fact that you’re living in a hockey sex compound now or nah?”

I groan and slump forward, my forehead hitting the table.

“That bad?” she teases.

“That confusing,” I correct, muffled by woodgrain. “It’s like living inside a hormone tornado.”

Lexi arches a brow. “So the night you texted me ‘do not disturb unless I text a safe word’—that was about Caleb and Grayson?”

I lift my head, cheeks flushing. “I didn’t even have time to think of a safe word.”

She whistles. “Damn. You’ve been busy.”

“It wasn’t planned. It just… happened.”

“And now?”

“And now Grayson looks at me like I’m breakable, Caleb keeps checking if I’ve eaten like he’s my hot Italian grandmother, and Hunter—well, he’s Hunter. Which means he alternates between glaring at me and looking like he wants to throw himself into traffic.”

Lexi sips her drink, eyes dancing. “Girl. That is not a triangle. That is a goddamn love pentagram. I am obsessed.”

“I’m not,” I whisper. “I’m overwhelmed.”

Lexi leans closer, like we’re sharing state secrets. “Okay, but be real. Was it good? Like, life-altering, can’t-wear-normal-jeans-anymore good?”

I pause.

Then nod.

She lets out a victorious gasp and does a quiet little shimmy. “YES. Rilee Jameson, my tiny tornado of self-denial—you have been converted.”

“I have not!” I hiss. “I’m still me. I still have finals and emotional baggage and a healthy fear of intimacy.”

“Yeah, but now you’ve got orgasms, too. Which, let’s be honest, are like emotional support fireworks.”

I choke on my drink, coughing as it goes down the wrong pipe.

She grins and leans back. “So what’s the problem?”

I hesitate. Then glance around and lower my voice.

“I haven’t told them yet.”

Lexi frowns. “Told them what?”

“That my brother is coming to stay. For a few days.”

Lexi freezes mid-sip. “You mean Fletcher? Your super-fragile, ultra-protective, formerly-bestie-with-Hunter, Fletcher?”

I nod. Slowly.

Her eyes widen. “Does he know you’re sleeping with a couple of his ex-teammates?”

“Nope.”

“Does he know two of them have seen you naked?”

“Absolutely not.”

She cackles. “Oh girl. You are in so much trouble.”

“I know,” I groan. “I just—I panicked. He called and he seemed so excited. The idea of him picking up on something, which let’s be honest, he will pick up on something and then a fight breaking out in the living room is a very real fear.

Or who the hell knows, maybe Hunter will come right out and tell him. Either way, I’m doomed.”

Lexi’s already pulling out her phone. “I need to stock up on popcorn. And possibly film the next few days for science.”

“Lex—”

“You’ve got a house full of secrets, an incoming sibling explosion, and enough unresolved tension to power the national grid. This is better than Netflix.”

I groan again, burying my face in my hands.

Because she’s right.

And I have no idea how I’m going to survive his visit.

“What are you doing for Thanksgiving, by the way?” she asks.

“Just sticking around…hopefully load up on carbs. What about you?”

Lexi hums into her drink. “Both of my parents’ houses—separately. It’s a whole thing.”

I nod slowly, then toy with the edge of my napkin. “At least you’ve got two to go to.”

She glances at me, frowning slightly. “Ri…”

I wave it off, trying for a casual shrug that doesn’t quite land. “It’s fine. I mean, my mom’s gone. I don’t even know where my dad is. Fletcher’s in rehab. So… you know. Me and microwave mashed potatoes. A Hallmark movie if I’m feeling festive.”

Lexi’s face softens, the kind of look that says she knows what I’m doing—dodging the ache with sarcasm. “You could come with me.”

“Thanks, but I’ve done the divorced holiday tour before. All tension and gluten-free stuffing and awkward step-uncles asking if I’m dating anyone.” I smile tightly. “Hard pass.”

She nods. Doesn’t push. Just lets it breathe.

The music from the bar swells, and around us, the world keeps moving. But I’m stuck in this little pocket of stillness, this hollow reminder that some people have places to go. People who notice when they’re missing.

“I used to love the holidays,” I admit, voice quieter now. “When we were younger, me and Fletch would always sneak extra rolls and try to beat each other at the wishbone thing. I didn’t care if the rest of the day was a mess. As long as we were together, it felt… like something.”

We’d always eat too much and he’d beg me to play touch football in the backyard. I would, and then I’d end up hurt.

Lexi reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.

And that’s when it hits me.

A small idea. A maybe.

“What if…” I trail off, already nervous. “What if I cooked something? For the guys. If they’re staying. We could do, like, a fake Thanksgiving. Or a real one. I don’t know.”

Lexi perks up. “Now that’s a show I’d watch.”

I smile, a little more real this time. “You think they’ll go for it?”

She leans back, arms crossed, grin wicked. “Rilee, you live with three hockey players who worship the ground you walk on. If you suggest cooking them a full meal, they will marry you on the spot.”

I snort. “Tragic. Guess I better learn how to roast a turkey without burning down the house.”

She winks. “You better. On second thought, maybe grab a fire extinguisher.”

I lean back in my chair, warmth blooming in my chest.

Maybe this won’t be the kind of holiday I used to know.

Maybe it’ll be something new.

Something mine.

Which is why, when I get home, I immediately call a house meeting.

“You’re home.” Caleb grins, crossing the room in two easy strides and gathering me up in his arms like I’ve just returned from war instead of a casual bar night with Lexi.

“I was gone three hours,” I say, laughing against his chest.

“Felt like three days,” he murmurs into my hair, squeezing just a little tighter before letting go.

Grayson looks up from the couch, where he’s been sketching in that mysterious notebook I keep pretending not to be curious about. “What’s up?”

Hunter leans against the table, scrolling on his phone.

I settle onto the arm of the sofa. “House meeting. Right now.”

Caleb salutes and flops onto the couch beside Grayson. Hunter groans but joins us anyway, grumbling the entire way.

“I just realized Thanksgiving is next week,” I say. “And before anyone tells me they’re going home or flying off to some fancy family retreat—”

“We have a game,” Grayson interrupts. “That Friday.”

“Coach is keeping us in town,” Hunter confirms. “Scrimmage Thursday morning, light skate Friday.”

I blink. “Wait. So… none of you are going home?”

Three heads shake.

Caleb tilts his head. “Why?”

“Because,” I say slowly, “I was thinking we could do something. Like… I don’t know. A Friendsgiving?”

There’s a pause.

Then Caleb perks up like I just offered him a lifetime supply of pie. “With actual food?”

“And dessert,” I add. “Something casual—chill.”

Hunter squints. “You’re volunteering to cook for three athletes with bottomless stomachs?”

“Correction,” I say. “ We cook. Together. Or at least try to.” They don’t need to know I’m absolutely planning to buy microwave mashed potatoes, simply because I like them more.

Grayson smiles. “I’m in.”

Hunter sighs. “As long as no one deep fries anything inside the house.”

“Noted,” I say. “We’ll survive on casseroles and teamwork.”

Caleb reaches over and links his pinky with mine. “You just made this the best holiday we’ve had in years.”

My heart does something warm and embarrassing.

Hunter mutters, “Fine. I’ll make stuffing.”

I blink. “You can cook?”

“I can stuff,” he says darkly. “Don’t push it.”

I glance around at all three of them, unexpectedly emotional. “So we’re doing this?”

Grayson nods. “Yeah. We are.”

And just like that, I feel it again—this quiet, unexpected thing building in our weird little house.

Not just tension.

Not just chaos.

But something that feels suspiciously like family.