Page 207 of Well That Happened

When I finally fall back, trembling and flushed, they don’t let me go. Caleb wraps his arms around me like I’m something precious. Hunter kisses the inside of my thigh with a murmured, “So fucking worth it.” Grayson presses a kiss to my shoulder and rests his forehead there, his breath warm and steady.

And just when I think I might actually float away from all of it—the emotion, the ridiculous intimacy of the moment—Hunter’s phone alarm goes off.

We all groan in unison.

“Time’s up,” he says, muffled against the blanket.

“Five more minutes?” Caleb pleads, sounding far too hopeful.

“Absolutely not,” Hunter says. “She’ll come up here. With a broom.”

Right on cue, his grandmother’s voice floats up the stairs.“I hope everyone’s decent! Cinnamon rolls are getting cold!”

We scatter. Or try to. There’s a lot of limbs. And laughter. And Caleb somehow getting stuck in the blanket like a human burrito.

“Okay,” I say, trying to smooth my hair while Hunter throws a hoodie at me. “Everyone act natural at breakfast.”

“Natural,” Grayson repeats, entirely deadpan.

“We’re so doomed,” Hunter mutters, but there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

As we finally manage to make ourselves somewhat presentable and start for the stairs, Caleb catches my hand.

“Worth it?” he asks quietly.

I glance at all of them—rumpled, flustered, and completely mine.

“Always,” I say.

And I mean it. With every inch of my messy, overfull heart.

Another set of footsteps get closer.

“Everyone look platonic!” I hiss, frantically fixing my hair.

“How does one look platonic?” Caleb asks, genuinely curious.

“Not like that!” I gesture at his general state of shirtless contentment.

The door opens again. Mrs. Maddox, Mr. Maddox, and Grandma, (grinning like she just won the lottery.

Everyone freezes.

Mrs. Maddox’s mouth opens. Closes. Opens again.

Mr. Maddox looks like he’s doing very complicated math in his head.

Ellie’s practically vibrating with glee.

And Grandma?

Grandma takes one look at all of us, smiles serenely, and says, “Patricia, you owe me twenty dollars.”

“Mother!” Mrs. Maddox gasps.

“What? I told you they were sharing. Though I expected them to last at least two nights before ending up like this.” She peers at me over her glasses. “Dear, that’s a very small bed for four people. Hunter’s room has a king.”

“GRANDMA,” Hunter groans, covering his face with a pillow.

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