Chapter 20
Haven
Iknow the second I log in that it’s going to be a rough stream, the bracket is stacked and the chat is insane.
My DMs are worse, people are speculating, screenshotting and posting clips with captions to set me off.
I thought I could handle it. But tonight? It all feels like too much.
My head’s pounding halfway through the first round. I lose a stupid fight because my hand slips on the mouse, and someone in chat immediately types.
[XShotgunBabyX]: looks like ghost needs to carry u again lol
My jaw clenches, and I force a smile. I try to laugh it off, try to focus and try to not let the heat crawling up my throat win. The next round’s worse. Sloppy, I rush my plays and miss the objective. People are not kind about it. Carter messages me privately. You good? Tate DM’s me a skull emoji.
By the fourth round, I can’t take it. “Okay,” I stutter out, yanking off my headset mid-stream. “That’s enough. I’m out.”
The chat floods with confusion, lines of text blurring across the screen like static. What happened? You okay? Don’t quit now! I don’t care, I hit END brOADCAST and slam my headset down. My hands are shaking.
The rage is hot and sharp but underneath it, there’s this cold, hollow panic that feels like failure.
Like I’m disappointing them. Like the second I let my walls drop, I stopped being good enough. I feel like I need to prove that I’m still good enough that I didn’t get lucky, that I belong here.
I stand up fast, too fast. The room tilts, before I can spiral further, I hear footsteps. The bedroom door creaks open, I don’t look up.
The first words out of his mouth are soft. “Shower?”
I nod at Carter, my eyes burning. “I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I shouldn’t have rage-quit. That was so unprofessional.”
His hand finds mine, leading me to the bathroom. “You’re human. You get to have limits.”
“I don’t want to ruin this.”
“You won’t, I’ve got you,” he says as he presses a kiss to the crown of my head. My forehead rests against his collarbone, and for a long moment, I just let myself exist in the circle of his arms. There’s nothing performative here. Just skin and breath and the weight of him holding me together.
His thumbs stroke my waist. His lips trail slowly down to my temple. “I hate seeing you like that,” he whispers. “I know you can handle it but I wish you didn’t have to.”
I exhale a soft laugh. “You and Tate always say the quiet part out loud.”
“That’s because I’d rather say it than watch it eat you alive.”
The bathroom door opens. My chest tightens before I can even catch it. My hands tremble, breath stuttering in quick, shallow bursts. “Tate…” I rasp, voice breaking. “I… can’t…”
His hand is on mine before I even realize I’m reaching for it. “Hey. Look at me,” he says. “Breathe with me. One… two… three…”
I try to follow, but my lungs feel too small. He doesn’t push, just holds my gaze, letting me anchor onto him, letting me hear the calm in his tone.
“You’re okay,” he says again, thumb rubbing the back of my hand. “I’m here, Carter’s here. You’re not alone. None of this can touch you while I’m right here.”
My body shakes, and I press my forehead against his shoulder, muffling a cry. “I feel… I feel like I can’t…”
“You can,” he whispers, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from my face. “You’ve got me. Right here. You’re strong enough to ride this out. I won’t let go.”
He guides me to a slow rhythm until I feel my breaths start to lengthen. The panic is still there, edges jagged, but I can manage it because he is the center of it, because he’s solid.
I take a shaky breath, letting the tension in my shoulders ease just a fraction. The sound of clothing hitting the tile follows. Tate slides behind me first, guiding me toward the shower.
Carter moves to the other side, and suddenly I’m caught between two sets of hands, two bodies pressing against mine, two very different energies surrounding me.
I let my fingers trail over the edge of the curtain, Tate’s chest presses against my back, Carter’s in front, and I can’t stop the shiver that runs through me. The soft hiss of running water starts suddenly, steam curls around us, and the sound of it hitting the shower floor is almost hypnotic.
“You gonna tell me what really set you off, pretty girl?” Tate murmurs, dragging his hands up my sides firm, pinning me between them.
“I just…” My throat tightens. “Everything felt too loud.”
“Then let me give you something else to focus on.”
Carter’s hands slide to my waist as he kisses my cheek. “Let us take care of you,” he whispers.
Tate’s mouth brushes against my neck while his hand slips between my thighs. “You don’t have to think,” he groans. “Just feel.” His mouth is at my neck before I can catch my breath. “You don’t even need to talk.”
His lips continue to drag along the edge of my jaw, hot and unrelenting, while Carter tilts my chin with one hand, kissing me like I’m made of breakable things.
My body jolts when Tate’ s fingers slide down. He parts me with two fingers, dragging them through my pussy.
“Fuck, did the stream piss you off this much? Or is this just for us?”
My answer is a whimper.
He slips one finger inside me and then another—slow at first, then faster, curling just right. I shudder between them, my legs wobbling. Carter’s hands grip my hips tighter to keep me steady, his breath trembling against my forehead.
“Let me help too,” he says softly, fingers brushing over my stomach, then lower.
Tate grins against my neck. “Then do it, golden boy.”
Carter kisses me again while Tate fucks me harder with his fingers, thumb teasing tight circles until my knees buckle.
“Tate —Carter—” My voice breaks. “I-I can’t—”
“Yes, you can,” Carter whispers, his thumb finding my clit too now, gentle and sure, while Tate groans into my shoulder.
“Come for us,” he rasps. “Right here, right now, against the fucking wall.”
The world snaps white.
My mouth falls open as I collapse forward into Carter’s chest as the orgasm crashes through me, as Tate doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down until I’m sobbing into Carter’s neck from the overload.
After a long, shuddering exhale, I step back from the spray, letting the last of the warm water cling to my skin. Steam curls around us, fogging the glass and hanging heavy in the air.
Tate grabs one of his shirts and slips it over me, letting it drape comfortably. Carter moves ahead to the living room, grabbing a couple of blankets. “Movie night on the couch?” he calls back.
I pause at the bathroom doorway for a moment, catching my breath and letting the heat from the shower settle into me. The world slows just a little while they set up the living room. When I finally follow, the couch is piled with blankets, and the soft glow of the TV fills the room.
Carter hands me the popcorn with a grin. “We’re gonna fall asleep in the next twenty minutes.”
“Good.” settling between them. “Maybe I’ll dream about shutting down my chat with a flamethrower.”
Tate grins. “Hot.”
I’m curled between them on the couch, Carter has one arm around my waist, his fingers tracing lazy circles into my hip.
Tate’s legs are stretched out beside me, a blanket tossed over his lap, one of his hands resting behind my neck, occasionally brushing his knuckles along the nape of my neck like he can’t not be touching me.
Carter shifts slightly and lets out the gentlest sigh, like he’s the most content he’s ever been.
The movie flickers blue light across the room and Tate’s voice cuts through the softness low and not meant for Carter. “You gonna tell me what they said to you?”
I shake my head, eyes fixed on the screen. “Does it matter?”
“It does to me.”
I glance sideways. He’s watching me the way he watches corners in a high-stakes map like I’m the only point of danger worth defending.
“I don’t want to give them space in my head,” I admit.
“Then give them to me,” he says. “I’ll hold the names.
” His hand squeezes mine under the blanket.
The volume of the movie dips for a quiet scene, and I realize my eyes have started to slip shut, lulled by their warmth, the steady sound of their breathing, the way I feel right now held and whole and safe.
Tate shifts beside me and lets out a low groan. “Alright. I’m tapped out.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“No offense,” he says, voice flat but teasing, “but two six-foot-tall dudes on a couch with you? Not exactly my idea of a restful night.”
Carter yawns and raises a brow. “So you’re finally admitting you don’t like cuddling me?”
Tate glances at Carter, a brief smirk tugging at his lips. “I’ll cuddle Haven,” he says, voice flat, “but you? Not unless someone’s paying me.”
I laugh softly, tugging the blanket tighter around my shoulders. Carter shakes his head at him, “You’ll cave eventually,” he says, and I can see Tate’s smirk falter just a fraction.
“Not a chance,” he mutters, pushing off the couch. He stretches, muscles flexing under his shirt, and starts down towards the bathroom.
Carter and I exchange a quiet look, a little smile passing between us. “Goodnight, menace,” he calls after him.
The silence hangs for a moment, heavy but comforting. I stretch on the couch, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. “Movie’s over anyway,” I say, glancing at Carter.
Once inside my room, I close the door and take a moment to breathe, Carter leans against the bed frame, watching me with that soft, golden retriever grin, and I start braiding my hair with the elastic band looped around my wrist.
Carter’s gaze follows the movement. “You really always braid it before bed huh?”
I nod. “Unless I want to wake up looking like I got into a fight with the pillowcase.”
“Can I… do it?”
My brows lift. “You want to braid my hair?”
He shrugs, but there’s a bashful flush rising to his cheeks. “I wanna learn.”
I twist around and hand him the brush. “Okay. First step is detangle, gently.”
He laughs under his breath as I scoot forward on the bed, settling between his knees, facing away from him. He starts brushing carefully.
“You’re doing good.”
“I’m terrified,” he whispers back. “Your hair is magic. If I mess it up, Tate will probably hex me.”
His fingers slow as he finishes brushing. I reach back and grab three small sections, holding them up over my shoulder. “Okay. Take these. Left, middle, right. You start by crossing the right one over the middle. Like this—”
He mirrors me carefully. “Got it.”
“Now the left over the new middle. Keep alternating, and keep them tight or it’s gonna fall out like my will to live during a ten-hour stream.”
Carter snorts. “You’re so dramatic.”
“Says the guy who full-body sighs when he loses in casual.”
I feel him smile against the back of my neck. “You’re distracting me.”
“Good. Now focus.”
His fingers are a little clumsy at first, but he gets the rhythm. His hands settle, warm and confident. He leans in slightly as he works, his breath soft against the shell of my ear. He finishes the braid with a final twist and ties the band around it. “Okay. Done. I think.”
I reach up and feel it, it’s slightly uneven, a little loose, but definitely recognizable. I twist around to face him. “Not bad for a first try.” He beams.
For a long second, we just sit there like that. Then he tugs me into his lap, tucking my legs over his, arms around my waist. “Come on, baby,” he murmurs against my temple. “Let’s go to sleep now.”
He pulls me close without a word, one arm snug around my waist, the other tucking under the pillow. His breath is warm against the back of my neck, his chest pressed to my spine.
“You sure you’re okay Haven?”
“I don’t know,” My fingers curl around his forearm where it rests against my stomach. “It’s all starting to feel… big. Bigger than me. The tournament, the fans, the rumors, the expectations.” I swallow hard. “I didn’t think it would get this far. I didn’t plan for this.”
His nose brushes the back of my shoulder, a soft kiss following. “You don’t have to carry it alone.”
“I know.” My voice is quieter now. “But I also don’t want to let you down., or Tate. Or everyone watching.”
Carter shifts, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at me. His hand finds my cheek, thumb brushing gently along my jaw. “Haven. You’ve already made us proud. You don’t need to prove anything to anyone.”
I blink up at him in the dark. “Even if I choke?”
He smiles. “Especially if you choke.”
A shaky laugh bubbles out of me. “You’re the worst at pep talks.”
“Am not. You just hate being reminded that you’re human.”
I roll into him, tucking my face into his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart slow mine down. “I don’t want to screw this up.”
“You won’t, and even if you did, we’d still be here.”