Page 21 of Well That Happened

“I should probably go get dressed,” she says, voice quieter now. “Before I end up late.”

I nod. But I don’t move.

She doesn’t either.

And for one long second, we just exist in the silence. The air thick between us. Her hip still brushing my thigh. My pulse hammering way too hard for something this simple.

Then she steps back. “See you later, Maddox.”

She walks away.

I stay exactly where I am. Hands still gripping the counter. Jaw clenched.

Hunger isn’t the word for it.

It’s need.

And I’m not allowed to have it.

Chapter Six

Caleb

The living room smells like sweat, pizza, and hockey tape.

Half the team’s sprawled across the couches, chairs, and floor. Someone’s got an ice pack on their shoulder. Someone else is halfway through a story about puking in his helmet. Hunter’s pacing in front of the coffee table, jaw tight, arms crossed—full Captain Mode.

I’m trying to listen.

Really, I am.

But my eyes keep drifting to the front door.

She should’ve been home by now.

The second the thought lands, the door swings open.

And there she is.

Rilee walks in like a hurricane that’s forgotten how to be subtle—scrub pants, sneakers, a messy ponytail, and that exhausted half-glare she saves for people trying to talk to her after a long shift. She freezes in the doorway, blinking at the crowd of hockey guys packed into the room.

“Oh,” she says flatly. “A herd.”

The room goes quiet for a beat—then someone chuckles, and another guy nudges his teammate.

“Hi,” she says, blinking again. “I live here?”

“Team meeting,” I say, waving her over. “Come sit.”

“I don’t think there’s room,” she says, looking weary.

“We’ve got pizza,” I offer. “And a judgment-free zone.”

She groans. “I need a shower. A bed. And possibly a lobotomy.”

I grin, scoot over, and pat the couch cushion next to me. “Or… you could sit for five minutes, eat a slice, and make the living room 500% better.”

She hesitates.

---