Chapter 7
Carter
Icall her within the first fifteen minutes of being awake.
Coffee in one hand, phone in the other, the sun barely slanting through the kitchen blinds.
I lean against the counter and wait for her to answer.
She picks up after the third ring, which means I probably woke her up.
Yeah, she was asleep. I could hang up next time, you know, be considerate, let her sleep like a decent human being but no, I sit here and wait it out like I need to hear her voice right now. Which… yeah, I guess I do.
“Morning,” she says, her voice is soft, scratchy with sleep.
God, I love that sound. I tip my head back and close my eyes for a second, just letting her voice echo through me. It’s stupid how easy it is, how fast I can fall into the rhythm of her. One sentence and I’m thinking about the first night I found her stream.
She was cursing out campers with that half-laugh in her voice, hands flying across the keys.
I called her sweetheart in chat, it just slipped out.
She paused, just for a second—then smirked like she knew exactly what it did to me and kept playing.
She never let me try to take it back. That was it, that was the moment I knew I would fall hard for her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I murmur, smiling like an idiot into the phone. “Did I wake you?”
“Kind of, but I’m not mad about it.”
I take a slow sip of my coffee, the warmth not doing nearly as much for me as the sound of her voice does. “Just wanted to hear you before your day got crazy.”
“You’re sweet.”
Sweet. Okay. Yeah. That’s… safe. Easy. I don’t know if I like that or if I’m just glad she’s saying anything at all. Could be both. Probably both. “Dangerously so,” I tease. “I caught your stream yesterday. You looked… unstoppable.”
She’s quiet for a second. “Thanks, that means a lot coming from you.”
I hesitate, letting the silence stretch for a second. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” she says. I can tell it’s the kind of “yeah” that means not really.
“Just a little overwhelmed. Tournament’s creeping up fast.”
“You have been under a lot of pressure,” I say.
“And I’m really good at massages. Picking out the best snacks, y’know being totally whipped for you.
I was thinking,” as casually as I can manage to sound, “I could drive out. Maybe spend a couple days with you before the tournament kicks off.” Okay, that came out fast. Didn’t plan that.
Definitely didn’t think that through all the way before saying it out loud.
But it makes sense, right? I want to see her, she’s stressed, I can be there—yeah, no, it makes sense. I’m sticking with that.
There’s a moment of silence. “Wait, really? That soon?”
I smile, biting back the way my heart just fucking leapt. “If you want me to.”
“I do. God, Carter, yes.”
The rush that hits me is instant. I can hear it in her voice, the excitement, the relief. Like maybe I’m her calm in all of this chaos. Then she hesitates. “Is… Tate coming too?”
I tighten my grip on the cup in my hand. “I’ll figure it out.” Translation: I have no idea yet. I’ll deal with it later. Which, yeah, not ideal, but it’s where I’m at.
After our last visit to her, Tate went into shut down mode again, scared he’ll somehow fuck all of this up still.
She hums softly, like she’s processing that. Not upset, just… thinking.
“I’d love to see you both,” she says, voice quieter. “But even just you? That would be more than enough.”
I hope so. I hang up the phone, smiling like an idiot. I glance toward the hallway and sigh, because I know what I need to do.
I find him upstairs, the bass from whatever he’s playing vibrating faintly through the walls. He’s leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk, a red bull balanced on one thigh and a headset looped around his neck.
“Hey,” I say, knocking once before pushing the door open fully. “You busy?”
He shrugs. “Just wiping the floor with some cocky streamer who thinks strafing counts as skill.”
I raise a brow. “So… not actually busy.”
He sighs dramatically. “What?”
I cross my arms, leaning against the doorframe. “I just talked to Haven.”
That gets his attention. His head tips slightly, just enough to show me he’s interested even if he won’t admit it.
“I told her I’d come see her before the tournament starts.”
He nods once, slow and unreadable. “Yeah, makes sense.”
“She asked if you were coming too.”
His eyes shoot to mine, but he doesn’t say anything right away. Just leans forward, rubbing a hand over his mouth like he’s thinking about something way too complicated for how simple the question is. “And?” he finally mutters.
“I said we hadn’t talked about it yet,” I say. “So, now we are.”
Another pause. He spins the Red Bull can slowly between his palms. “What are you asking me Carter?”
I sigh. “Do you want to come with me or not?”
He leans back again, jaw working, like he’s trying to find the line between giving a shit and pretending he doesn’t. “She want me there?”
That’s not really what he’s asking. I mean, it is—but it isn’t. He wants to know where he stands. I get that. I just wish he’d say it straight. “She didn’t say it like that,” I answer. “But yeah. She wants to see you. Us.”
He’s silent for a moment too long, I swear just to be extra dramatic before he mumbles out an “Alright.”
“Alright?”
“I’ll come.”
There’s a note of something in his voice, barely visible beneath all the armor. I nod, push off the doorframe, and turn to go.
“You’re driving,” he calls behind me. “And I’m not listening to any of your stupid-ass road trip playlists.”
I grin. “No promises.”
It’s not the first time we’ve road tripped together. Last time, we fought over the aux for a solid twenty minutes before I just played Lana Del Ray’s entire discography to see how long it would take him to crack.
He lasted seven songs. “You touch the playlist this time,” he warned, dead serious, “and I’ll throw your phone out the fucking window.”
I’m definitely touching the playlist again. I head back to my room, the second the door closes behind me, I grab my overnight bag from under the bed.
Not because I’m desperate. Okay, maybe a little. Not in a bad way just enough that I notice it. Enough that I feel the need to say I’m not, which probably means I am.
But she said she wants to see me, and that’s all it takes. I toss in a couple T-shirts, clean sweats, backup charger, deodorant and I throw in a hoodie too, just in case she wants to steal it.
When I finally convince myself I have everything I need I zip the bag up, I’m grinning like an idiot and completely failing at pretending I’m not already in road trip mode. I grab my phone and open the group chat.
Me: good night, don’t forget to pack a toothbrush Tate
Haven: wait, Tate’s coming too?
I pause mid-text, waiting for him to answer. It takes a second.
Tate: am i allowed to bring rope or is that gonna ruin the “supportive visit” vibe
Me: rope??
Haven: oh my god
Tate : that’s not a no
Me: goodnight, both of you
Haven: sweet dreams
Tate: mine will be
I groan, flip my phone face-down on the nightstand.
God help me. I shut off the lamp, but I can’t sleep, so I lay there in the dark, one arm folded behind my head, the other clutching my phone as if it might steady the nerves crawling just beneath my skin.
The screen stays dark, no new messages, just the faint tick of my clock and the soft whoosh of night air filtering through the cracked window.
Tomorrow, I’ll see her again. It’s only been a few weeks, not a long time in the grand scheme of things.
Truthfully somehow, it feels like longer.
Like we hit pause, and I’ve been hovering in the loading screen, waiting for whatever comes next.
Here’s the truth—the part I haven’t said out loud.
I’m scared. Not of the drive, not of Tate act like a cryptic in the passenger seat for fifty miles.
I’m scared that something’s changed. That being with us, with me, in person again will feel different now.
Too big and too complicated. Time has a funny way of twisting things.
I’m scared she’ll look at me and realize she doesn’t need me the way I need her.
God, I hate that thought. I squeeze my eyes shut, try to let it go.
Count backwards from ten. Try to breathe like a normal person.
This is dumb. I know it’s dumb. I’m getting worked up over something that hasn’t even happened yet.
I’ve had a lot of people drift in and out of my life, Haven crashed into it like a fucking comet. Bright and unpredictable. I roll onto my side, staring at the faint moonlight crawling across the floorboards.
My chest tightens. I’ll be fine. I always am, I just hope when I see her, she smiles at me the way she did the first time we met.