Page 127 of Well That Happened

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. “Youcancook?”

“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.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Rilee

“Okay, whose idea was this?” I mutter, dodging a rogue spatula flying across the kitchen.

Caleb, standing shirtless in an apron that saysLet’s Get Basted, grins like he’s Gordon Ramsay’s hotter, more chaotic little brother. “You said ‘Friendsgiving.’ I took it as a personal challenge.”

“I said potluck.Potluck, Caleb. That’s where everyone brings a dish. Not attempts to deep-fry an entire bird in our garage like it’s a Food Network special.”

Grayson strides in, cradling a bowl of scratch-made cranberry sauce like it’s a newborn. “Turkey’s at 160. No explosions. Yet.”

In the background, someone—probably Nate from the lacrosse team—screams, “FIRE!” followed by the sound of a fire extinguisher being discharged.

I drop my forehead to the counter. “I hate it here.”

“You love it here,” Caleb corrects, trailing flour-dusted fingers across my lower back as he passes.

I glare at him. “Did you just touch me with your raw-dough hands?”

“I touched you with love,” he says.

Grayson, nonplussed, offers me a spoonful of his sauce. “Taste.”

I do.

Then blink. “Wait. This is… actually good?”

He shrugs. “I like to cook.”

Caleb leans over my shoulder. “That was dangerously hot. Say it again.”

Grayson just smirks and walks away.

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