Page 152 of Well That Happened

I blink. “All of us?”

He nods, a little more serious now. “It’s a big deal for my family. My mom goesall in—I’m talking cookies, lights, eight different versions of hot chocolate. The works. And I want you there.”

Hunter raises an eyebrow. “How’s that gonna work, exactly?”

“Same as with Fletcher,” Caleb says, sliding into the armchair across from us. “Rilee’s my girlfriend, and you two are just crashing with us because you had nowhere else to go for the holidays.”

I snort. “Your mom’s gonna buy that?”

“Sheloveswhen I bring people home,” he says. “She’ll believe anything if there’s tinsel and baked goods involved.”

Grayson’s gaze is full of questions. “You sure it won’t be… weird?”

“I’m sure,” Caleb says, looking at me now. “I want them to meet you. All of you.”

Hunter doesn’t say anything, but I feel his hand tighten slightly around my knee under the table. He exhales slowly, like he’s working something out in his mind.

Grayson shrugs and digs into his lasagna.

And Caleb?

He’s already texting his mom; I can see it from here—smiling like he just got everything he wanted for Christmas.

Chapter Forty-Four

Grayson

The moment we pull into the driveway, I know Caleb was wrong.

It’s weird.

Not in a horror-movie way. Just in that way where everything feels too wholesome, too bright, toonot designed for a poly-tangle of sexual chaos.

The house is picture-perfect suburban: red brick with white trim, a wreath on the front door, fairy lights along the gutters. It smells like cinnamon and nostalgia before we even make it inside—his mom is already humming carols in the kitchen, a tray of something sugar-dusted and warm cooling on the counter.

Caleb’s beaming like hebelongshere.

Of course he does.

This is his natural habitat. And he’s at peak golden retriever in human form.

He hugs his mom like he hasn’t seen her in years (it’s been a month) and then gets into a five-minute discussion with his dad about the latest college hockey rankings while we unload our bags.

We’re introduced as “just teammates who didn’t want to be alone for Christmas.” And technically that’s true. If you ignore the fact that all three of us have made Rilee come so hard she forgot her own name.

Sierra—Caleb’s younger sister—is already circling like a shark in a sweater dress. She zeroes in on me with a smile that’s way too confident for a girl who’s still in high school.

“So,” she says, cornering me near the entryway, “You single?”

I lift a brow. “It’s complicated.”

“Is it, though?”

“Yes,” I say, letting my tone go flat. “Very.”

She doesn’t take the hint. But that’s fine. I’ve got years of experience dodging interested party guests and cousins of exes. I politely retreat toward the kitchen where Caleb’s mom is offering hot cider and unsolicited life advice.

Meanwhile, Rilee’s doing her best not to combust. She keeps sneaking glances at Hunter like she wants to climb him. Which is fair—he’s brooding in the corner like he hates the twinkle lights and maybe Christmas as a concept.

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