Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
Eve
I stare at my phone. My father’s words still echo in my head. The screen glows like it’s accusing me as my fingers hover over the keys. I want to type something that would make him proud, but the words won’t come. The familiar weight of disappointment presses on my chest. It’s hard to breathe.
A knock pulls me from my thoughts. I look up. Carter stands in the doorway, his warm brown eyes full of concern.
“Everything okay, Eve?” His voice is soft and steady.
I try to smile, but it feels fake. “Just my dad being my dad.”
Carter steps into the room. His presence calms me. He sits on the edge of the bed, his subtle cologne reaching me.
“Want to talk about it?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not really. I just wish I could escape for a while.”
His eyes brighten with an idea. “That’s good. I have an adventure planned, if I can pry you out of this house.”
I raise a brow. “What kind of adventure?”
“It’s a surprise,” he says, grinning. “But it will help you forget. You in?”
I glance at my phone. Yeah, there is no way that I’m going to fix things between me and my dad this afternoon.
“You know what? I’m in.” The words spill out, unbidden.
Carter grins wider. “Great. Grab a jacket, some hiking boots, a water bottle, and some trail mix. We’re leaving in ten.”
As I start pulling together the things he listed, I feel a spark of anticipation. It’s not just the idea of an adventure. It’s him. He always seems to know just what I need. For the first time since my dad’s call, I can breathe.
I swap my loungewear for stretchy yoga pants and a hoodie. Nerves hum through me, but Carter clears my mind like no one else. When I step out of my room, he is waiting, keys in hand. His eyes have a mischievous glint.
“Ready to escape?”
I nod. “Lead the way, Professor Morgan.”
We head straight downtown, like we’re heading to Pike’s Place Market. But at the last minute, Carter swerves and we end up at the ferry terminal. The terminal buzzes with energy as we weave through the crowd. The salty breeze whips my hair, smelling like the sea and something new. I inhale deeply, feeling the tension in my shoulders begin to ease.
“Ever been to Bainbridge?” Carter asks, his warm eyes crinkling as he smiles.
I shake my head. “Never had the chance. I’ve only been here since the start of school.”
Carter raises his eyebrows. “Well, we can’t have that. Time to broaden your horizons, Dr. Moreland.”
I laugh as we board the ferry. “I’m not a doctor yet.”
“You will be,” he says with confidence. Warmth spreads through my chest. We find a spot by the railing. I lean into the wind, watching the water churn below us. The ferry horn blares as we pull away, and excitement races through me.
“Watch,” Carter says, pointing at the skyline shrinking in the distance.
I turn to see the city of Seattle fading behind us. The Space Needle stands tall, growing smaller with each passing second. My worries feel smaller too.
“It’s pretty,” I whisper. “It’s funny. All my worries seem less pressing.”
Carter’s hand brushes mine on the railing. His touch is steady. “Sometimes stepping away helps you see things more clearly.”
I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. The skyline blurs into a haze. The weight of expectations lifts. For this moment, I am not the dutiful daughter or the struggling med student. I am just Eve.
“Thank you for this,” I say. I turn to Carter. The wind tousles his hair, and his eyes shine. My heart skips.
He squeezes my hand. “Anytime. That’s what friends are for, right?”
Friends . The word echoes in my head. I wonder if that’s all we are, all we can be. The island grows closer, green and inviting, so I push the thought aside. For now, I’ll savor this freedom Carter has given me.
The ferry docks with a soft thud, and we step onto Bainbridge Island. Carter leads me confidently up the sloped ground toward a trailhead. Soon, we find ourselves on a path that’s framed by tall Douglas firs.
“Hope you’re ready for a workout,” he says, grinning as he gestures at the steep trail ahead.
I breathe in the pine-scented air. “Bring it on, Carter. I need it.”
We start climbing. My legs burn within minutes. The trail is rugged, filled with roots and rocks. It forces me to focus. It turns out to be exactly the distraction I need.
“You okay back there?” Carter calls, looking over his shoulder. He’s barely winded.
I huff and push harder to catch up. “Do you always hike like you’re running from bears?”
He laughs. The sound echoes through the trees. “Only when I’m trying to impress beautiful girls.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. It’s not just from the climb. “Flattery will get you nowhere. Especially when I’m questioning my life choices on this uphill nightmare.”
“Ah, but it’s worth it for the view.” He stops and waits for me. When I catch up, he points through a break in the trees.
I gasp. Below us, the Puget Sound sparkles and glints in the sunlight. “Okay,” I admit. “That’s worth it.”
We keep climbing. The forest around us is a vibrant mix of greens and browns. I feel my earlier frustrations leave me with every step.
“So,” Carter says, ducking under a branch, “how’s school? On a scale of one to ‘I’m dropping out to herd goats.’”
I laugh, surprised by how light I feel. “Let’s just say I’ve googled ‘quaint mountain villages seeking shepherds’ more than once this week.”
“That bad, huh?”
I sigh and step over a rocky patch. “It’s not the work. It’s the pressure. Sometimes it feels like I’m drowning.”
Carter stops. He turns to face me. His expression softens. “Eve, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone but yourself.”
I meet his gaze. His sincerity catches me off guard. “Easy for you to say. You’ve already made it.”
He shakes his head, his smile wry. “Imposter syndrome never goes away. But you learn to silence it. You learn to trust yourself.”
We keep climbing, his words lingering in my mind. Even someone like Carter struggles? Seems impossible. Knowing that makes my fears feel smaller.
“All right, Professor Wisdom,” I tease, “what’s the secret to balancing it all?”
Carter strokes an imaginary beard. “The key is... dance parties in your living room.”
I trip over a root. “I’m sorry, what?”
He grins, that boyish charm in his smile making me laugh. “Nothing beats stress like dancing to your favorite songs. Bonus points if you crank the music up so loud that the neighbors complain.”
The mental image of Carter doing this sends me into giggles. Or it would, if I could breathe that easily. “Please tell me there’s video evidence.”
“Absolutely not,” he says, mock-serious. “Classified information.”
Our laughter fills the forest as we reach the ridge, and the view takes my breath away. We move toward the clear spot in the tree line. Carter’s hand rests lightly on my back as we climb down onto the rocky outcropping. Below us, the Puget Sound stretches endlessly. The water shimmers in the late afternoon sun, painted gold and pink. In the distance, Seattle’s skyline looks small and fragile.
“It’s incredible,” I whisper.
Carter smiles. There’s warmth in his eyes that makes my chest tighten. “This is my favorite spot. I come here when I need to reset.”
We sit on a flat rock, our legs dangling over the edge. The scent of the sea mixes with the earthy smell of the forest. It feels like the world has stopped. Only the sound of seagulls and waves fills the air.
“My dad used to bring me here,” Carter says quietly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. I glance at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice. “Before he left, I mean.”
I want to comfort him, but I stay quiet, sensing that he needs to speak.
“He was gone more than he was around,” Carter says, his jaw tightening. “Always chasing the next big deal. But when he did take me hiking… those were the best days of my childhood.”
“What happened?” I ask softly.
He runs a hand through his hair. “He died a few years ago. It was a heart attack, totally out of the blue. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye or anything.”
I ache for him. Without thinking, I take his hand. “I’m so sorry, Carter.”
He squeezes my fingers and gives me a small, sad smile. “It’s okay. I’ve made peace with it. Mostly. But being here… it’s like he’s still with me.”
I nod, understanding the bittersweet pull of memories.
“Sometimes I wonder if I’m living up to his legacy,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “He was larger than life. Always pushing boundaries. And here I am, playing it safe.”
“Hey,” I say firmly, turning to face him. “You inspire future doctors. That’s not playing it safe. That’s making a difference.”
Carter looks at me, gratitude softening his expression. “Thank you, Eve. I needed to hear that.”
We sit there as the city fades into the distance. His hand stays in mine, a comforting presence. For the first time in a long time, I let myself see him. Not just as my professor, but as a man with his own fears and dreams. And in that moment, overlooking the Sound, I realize I’m falling for him. Hard and fast.
God, I need to pull it together. Say something, anything that doesn’t hint at the turmoil inside.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” I say softly, the words slipping out before I can stop them. “My mom died, too. She understood me in a way no one else did. When she was gone… it felt like this huge void opened up. My dad tried, but we couldn’t connect the same way.”
“Do you miss her a lot?” he asks.
I bob my head. “It’s like I’m carrying her with me.” My voice lowers. “…sometimes I wonder if she’d be proud of me.”
Carter reaches into his backpack, pulling out a small packet of paper and a pen.
“That’s one of the reasons I brought you here. I figured you had some pent-up feelings that needed releasing.”
I look at him, surprised. “Oh?”
“This helped me after my dad died,” he says. He hands me a delicate sheet of rice paper. “Write down your hopes, your dreams, whatever you’re carrying. Then fold it into an airplane and let it fly.”
I take the paper, its texture soft against my fingertips. “What should I write?”
“Anything,” Carter says. “There’s no wrong answer.”
I pick up the pen, the weight of it feeling heavier than it should. As I write, each word feels like a release. The tightness in my chest starts to ease. When I finish, I watch Carter fold his paper with care, his large hands moving deftly.
“It’s a way to let go of pain and still look forward,” he explains.
Together, we walk to the edge of the cliff. The wind whips my hair as we stand side by side.
“Ready?” Carter asks, his voice calm.
I nod. We pull back our arms and release the planes. They catch the breeze and soar out over the Sound. My eyes follow them as they glide toward the water below.
“They’re beautiful,” I whisper.
“So are you,” Carter murmurs.
I turn to him, my heart pounding. His eyes meet mine, steady and sure. For a moment, the world falls away.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice trembling. “For this.”
He squeezes my hand gently. “Eve, you don’t have to thank me. Being here with you means everything.”
The warmth spreading through me is unlike anything I’ve felt before. It’s more than gratitude. It’s something deeper, something I can’t ignore.
I tilt my head up, meeting his gaze. “I’ve been scared to let people in,” I admit. “But with you, it feels different. It feels safe.”
Carter’s hand tightens on mine. “You make me feel the same way, Eve. Like I can finally be myself.”
The sun dips lower, painting the sky in deep purples and blues. The stars begin to emerge. We sit in silence, watching as the world shifts into night. The moment feels endless, yet fragile, like something I need to hold onto but can’t.
As we leave the ridge and head back to the ferry, the air between us hums with unspoken words. On the ferry ride back, we sit by the railing again, but the mood has shifted. The excitement from earlier is gone, replaced by a quiet tension.
“Did you have a good time?” Carter asks after a long pause.
“I did,” I say honestly. “Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You seemed like you needed it,” he says, his lips curving into a small smile.
“I did,” I admit. “More than I realized.”
The ferry’s engine hums softly, blending with the sound of the waves. I turn to look at the water, the city lights growing closer.
“It feels different now,” I say quietly.
“What does?” Carter asks, his voice cautious.
I hesitate. “Everything. Like something shifted.”
Carter doesn’t respond right away. When he does, his voice is low. “Maybe it has.”
I glance at him, my heart pounding. His gaze is steady, unwavering. “I don’t want to make this harder for you,” he says. “But I can’t pretend this doesn’t mean something.”
“It does mean something,” I admit. My voice is barely above a whisper. “But I’m scared, Carter. Scared of what this could cost us.”
He looks away briefly, his jaw tightening. “Me too.”
The ferry horn blares, breaking the moment as we dock. Carter drives me back to campus in silence. The tension between us hangs heavy in the air.
When we pull up in front of my building, he turns to face me. “Eve?—”
“Goodnight, Carter,” I say softly, cutting him off.
His expression tightens, then softens. “Goodnight, Eve.”
I step out of the car, feeling the cold air sharp as a knife against my skin. As I walk toward my house, I glance back. Carter is still there, watching me. For a second, I consider going back. Saying something. Anything.
But I don’t. I keep walking, my thoughts spinning. When I reach my room, I collapse onto my bed. My chest feels tight, my heart heavy. I don’t know what’s happening between us. All I know is that it’s bigger than anything I’ve felt before.
I think I’m in love with Carter Morgan. And I don’t know how much longer I can keep it locked away.