Page 38

Hunter

It’s the sight of her that does it.

Not the text. Not the call from campus security. Not even the message from Grayson that just says:

Rilee. Hospital. Minor fall. Now.

It’s the way she looks—soft, tired, small, and vulnerable—that guts me.

“I said I’m fine,” comes her voice, trying too hard to sound annoyed and not enough to hide the crack in it.

My legs move before my brain gives the green light.

She’s sitting up on the exam table, one ankle wrapped, hair a mess, hospital gown slumped off one shoulder. There’s a scrape on her cheek and a gauze bandage on her arm. The sight punches the air out of my lungs.

She looks up and freezes. “Oh.”

That’s all. Just oh —like she wasn’t expecting me.

Maybe she wasn’t. Caleb probably could’ve beaten me here, and Grayson knows how to play calm. I, on the other hand, ran a red light and nearly broke the driver’s side mirror parking like a lunatic.

“You fell,” I say. It comes out rougher than I meant.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, Hunter. People fall sometimes. Gravity is wild.”

“You fell during your clinical. At the hospital. Most likely because you’re overworked and not getting enough sleep.” I shoot a hard glare at my idiot roommates for keeping her up at all hours with their horny escapades.

Her expression hardens. “I said I’m fine. ”

“You’re not.” I walk in, then immediately regret it when I realize I don’t know what to do with my hands. I shove them into my pockets like that’ll keep them from shaking.

“I mildly sprained my ankle. It’s not exactly a near-death experience.”

“You could’ve hit your head. Or passed out. Or gotten stepped on by a code team, or—”

Her voice cuts in, soft. “Why are you here?”

I blink. “What?”

She tilts her head. “You don’t usually drop everything and show up. Especially not for me.”

That lands somewhere between my ribs and stays there. She’s not wrong. But it still stings.

I don’t tell her that the guys couldn’t get here in time, that they freaked out and needed me here. Because that’s only half the truth. The moment I heard she was in the hospital, I was already on my way.

I step closer. “You live in my house.”

“I live in your house , yes, but I’m not your problem .”

My jaw clenches. “You’re not a problem.”

She raises an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I want to say something. Something that matters. But all I can see is the way she looked the night she moved in—tired, messy, chaotic. Mine. Before I knew what that meant.

“You scared me,” I finally say.

It comes out low.

Her breath catches.

And now I can’t stop.

“You push so hard. You take care of everyone. You run yourself ragged trying to prove you can handle everything. But you don’t let anyone help. And it’s—” I shake my head. “It’s gonna break you, Rilee.”

She looks down at her hands. Doesn’t speak.

And that silence wrecks me worse than anything she could’ve said.

I step closer, slowly. Careful.

“I’m not good at this. Feelings. Talking. Saying things that… matter.” My throat tightens. “But I need you to know something.”

She lifts her eyes to mine, and it floors me—how vulnerable she looks. Like the wind just got knocked out of her.

“Do you understand how hard it is for me? Being the guy who watches you fall, but not the one who gets to pick you back up again?”

A beat of silence.

Then another.

“I didn’t know you cared,” she says the words softly, carefully.

“I didn’t either. Until I saw you fall apart and realized I couldn’t breathe.”

And then—she reaches for me.

Fingers curling into the front of my shirt, just enough to anchor herself.

I exhale and step into the space between us, cupping her cheek gently, like she might break.

She leans into it.

And everything tilts.

I kiss her. Slow, deliberate. Like the first deep breath after almost drowning.

She kisses me back.

Not cautious.

Not hesitant.

But real.

Raw.

The kind of kiss that answers every question I didn’t know I was asking.

I find Caleb in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a mug of something steaming in his hand.

The overhead light casts soft shadows across the tile, and outside the window, the yard is swallowed in dark.

The hush of the house is deceptive, like it’s holding its breath.

My chest feels the same. Too full. Too loud. And nowhere to put it.

“How is she?” I ask.

“Okay,” he says. “Tucked in for the night. Gray’s with her in case she needs anything.”

I nod. Makes sense. Gray’s got good energy—calming, steady.

“You’ve been weird all night,” Caleb says without looking up.

I lean against the counter, arms crossed. “I’m always weird.”

He smirks. “No, this is different. You’ve been brooding like a guy in a bad indie film.”

I hesitate, then sigh. “Saw you with her. Earlier.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. “Yeah. We don’t exactly keep it subtle.”

I’d stumbled on them in her room—despite her hurt ankle, she was kissing him like her life depended on it. “That a problem?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s not… her. It’s me.”

Caleb sets his mug down, giving me his full attention. “You like her.”

I shrug, trying to play it off, but the weight in my chest says otherwise. “Who doesn’t? She walks into a room and suddenly the air’s different. Like you’re awake for the first time in weeks.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I wasn’t supposed to. I told myself this was your thing. Grayson’s thing. Not mine.”

Caleb leans back, studying me. “It doesn’t have to be like that.”

“I don’t know how to do this. Share. I barely know how to want someone without turning it into a disaster.”

He chuckles softly. “Welcome to the club.”

I glance at him, searching for any sign of resentment or anger. “You’d be okay with that?”

Caleb’s expression turns serious. “Depends. You gonna treat her like she’s some phase you’ll regret later?”

“No.” I pause, the truth settling in. “She scares the hell out of me. Which probably means I’m already in too deep.”

He nods slowly. “Then yeah. I’d be okay with it.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the unspoken understanding hanging between us. The dynamics are shifting, and while the path ahead is uncertain, one thing is clear: Rilee isn’t just a fleeting connection. She’s becoming something more—for all of us.