Chapter 5 — Lena
Lena
Lena Brooks had planned for ninety-seven fundraiser disasters.
She had planned for missing volunteers.
She had planned for bad weather.
She had planned for donation app failure, tablecloth stains, silent auction confusion, hockey players mishandling glitter, and one very realistic possibility that Mason Cross would say something into a microphone and end up banned from university events until graduation.
She had not planned for Carter Hayes saying not yet when someone asked if she was his girlfriend.
Not yet.
Two words.
Casual.
The fundraiser noise swelled around her—applause, laughter, the puck booth bell ringing, donors congratulating Denise, children running with prize bags—but Lena was still standing beside the donation table, pretending she was not replaying Carter’s voice in her head like a woman with no pride.
Not no.
Not we’re just working together.
Not Lena? Clipboard girl? Funny story.
A door he had not slammed shut.
A door he had, in fact, left wide open in front of a woman in a red dress who had clearly known exactly what Carter Hayes looked like when he was not running a children’s activity booth.
Lena hated that she cared.
Carter stood beside her, watching the donation screen with a soft smile, the kind that looked almost private even in a crowded room.
She should have been thinking about that.
The money raised. The children’s wing. The hospital board. The weeks of planning that had somehow become worth it in one shining moment of success.
And she was thinking about Carter’s hand almost touching hers.
Deeply off-brand.
Mason’s voice suddenly boomed from the other side of the room.
“HELMUTS! HELMUTS! HEL—”
A donor couple laughed.
Lena closed her eyes. “I’m going to push him into the dunk tank.”
Carter leaned closer. “Do it for the Helmuts.”
The real one.
Warm and annoying and increasingly difficult to survive.
“You’re enjoying this,” she said.
“I’m enjoying several things.”
“Name one that won’t make me regret asking.”
“The fundraiser is doing great.”
“Good answer.”
“You’re doing great.”
Her pulse tripped.
“Dangerous answer,” she said.
His eyes moved over her face. “Still true.”
That had been happening all night. One second they were joking, the next the air tightened like a string pulled between them.
Lena glanced around, suddenly aware of how public they were. Donors. Teammates. Coaches. Children. Denise with her tablet.
“Carter,” she warned quietly.
He held up both hands, but his smile did not look innocent. “Behaving.”
“You’re thinking loudly.”
“I’ve been told that’s my gift.”
“It is not.”
He stepped slightly closer, just enough that his sleeve brushed her arm. “You sure? Because you seem to understand me pretty well.”
The clipboard had seen things tonight. It deserved hazard pay.
Before she could answer, Denise rushed over, heels clicking against the ballroom floor, eyes bright with relief.
“Lena,” she said, breathless. “We passed the goal.”
Lena nodded, suddenly pulled back into the event. “I saw.”
“By nearly thirty percent already. The hospital board is thrilled.”
“That’s amazing.”
“No, you’re amazing.” Denise surprised her by reaching out and squeezing her arm. “You really pulled this off.”
But tonight, after everything, it didn’t feel terrible.
It felt earned.
“Thank you,” Lena said.
Denise turned to Carter. “And you. The speech was excellent. The board chair asked who wrote it.”
Carter shifted beside Lena. “Lena did.”
Lena immediately turned. “Carter.”
“What?”
“You wrote the strongest part.”
“You edited the strongest part.”
“You came up with it.”
“You made it readable.”
Denise looked between them, lips twitching. “I’ll tell them it was a joint effort.”
Lena opened her mouth.
Carter said, “Good.”
Lena looked away first, but she couldn’t stop the smile.
Denise glanced at her tablet. “We’re going to announce the current total in ten minutes. Lena, I’d love you both back onstage.”
Lena nodded. “Of course.”
Carter’s eyebrows lifted slightly. “Both of us?”
“Yes,” Denise said. “You two are working well together. People are responding to that.”
Mason materialized from nowhere, as if summoned by the phrase working well together.
“They are responding very strongly,” he said solemnly.
Lena slowly turned her head.
Mason held up a cookie like a peace offering. “I’m leaving.”
“No, you’re not,” Denise said. “You’re needed at the puck booth.”
“I’m emotionally needed here.”
“You are physically needed there.”
Mason sighed. “Fine. But if anyone asks, I was part of the joint effort.”
“You contributed glitter water,” Lena said.
“And morale.”
“You caused morale to need medical attention.”
Mason pointed at Carter. “She’s funny when she’s in love.”
Horrifying.
Lena froze.
Carter froze beside her.
Denise’s eyes widened in the delighted way of a professional woman who absolutely should not enjoy student drama but definitely did.
Mason’s face went through five stages of regret.
“I meant…” He looked at Carter. “Not love.”
Lena’s face burned.
Mason looked at Denise. “Not that she isn’t lovable.”
Carter muttered, “Stop digging.”
Mason looked at Lena. “Not that you’re in love. I mean, you might be. None of my business.”
“Mason,” Lena said.
Her voice sounded calm.
Deadly calm.
Mason swallowed. “Puck booth?”
He ran.
Denise pressed her lips together like she was physically restraining laughter. “I’ll see you both onstage in ten.”
Then she walked away.
Lena stared at the clipboard.
Carter stared at Mason’s retreating back.
A joke.
Except Lena’s heart had reacted like it had heard its name called.
Carter cleared his throat. “For the record—”
“Do not.”
“I wasn’t going to make a joke.”
He looked strangely serious.
Her stomach dipped.
“Then what were you going to say?”
Then his mouth curved faintly, but not in the old way. Softer. Almost nervous.
“I was going to say Mason is an idiot.”
Disappointment.
Both, which was annoying.
“Yes,” she said. “He is.”
Carter glanced toward the stage. “Ten minutes.”
“Plenty of time for three more disasters.”
“At Ridgeview? Four.”
“You’re learning.”
“I have a good teacher.”
Before either of them could say anything else, a loud splash erupted from the dunk tank area outside the ballroom doors, followed by wild cheering.
Lena’s head snapped toward the sound. “The dunk tank wasn’t supposed to open until after the announcement.”
Carter winced. “Mason?”
Outside, the courtyard had transformed into full fundraiser chaos.
The dunk tank sat under strings of lights, surrounded by students and donors. A soaking wet Logan Reeves sat in the tank wearing a black Ridgeview Hockey T-shirt that clung to his shoulders, his expression flat enough to freeze water.
Mason stood near the throwing line, arms raised like a champion.
“I regret nothing!” he shouted.
Logan slowly pushed wet hair out of his eyes.
Everyone quieted.
Mason’s arms lowered. “I regret some things.”
Lena marched forward. “Why is the dunk tank open?”
Mason pointed to a group of children. “For the children.”
A little boy held up a softball. “I paid five dollars.”
Students, families, even two professors were holding tickets.
Carter leaned down near her ear. “I hate to say it, but this is making money.”
“I don’t care if it’s making—”
The donation volunteer at the table called, “We’ve made four hundred dollars in six minutes!”
Lena closed her mouth.
Carter’s shoulder shook beside her.
She turned her head slowly. “Do not laugh.”
Logan pointed at Mason from inside the tank. “You’re next.”
Mason shook his head quickly. “I’m better on land.”
A girl in sparkly shoes threw a softball. It missed the target by three feet and hit the backdrop with a sad thud.
Logan clapped once. “Good arm.”
Lena’s irritation faltered.
Carter noticed.
“See?” he said softly. “Controlled disaster.”
“Nothing involving Mason is controlled.”
“True. But it’s working.”
She watched another kid step up, face serious with concentration. Logan adjusted his posture in the tank, looking terrifying and patient at the same time.
The banner had been misspelled. The glitter had migrated into beverages. The dunk tank had opened early. Mason was one poorly timed comment away from being sealed in a storage closet.
Money was pouring in.
The hockey players were showing up.
Carter was showing up.
Maybe not everything had to follow the plan exactly to work.
That thought felt personally offensive.
Carter looked at her like he knew.
“You’re having a growth moment,” he said.
“I am not.”
“You’re realizing improvisation has value.”
“I will deny this in court.”
Then the crowd roared as the next throw hit the target.
Logan dropped into the water with a massive splash.
Mason shouted, “Ridgeview legend!”
Logan surfaced and pointed at him again. “Cross.”
Mason backed up. “I’m needed indoors.”
Lena turned to him, unable to stop watching the way his face opened when he laughed for real. Not the performance laugh. Not the charm laugh.
Her heart did something incredibly inconvenient.
Again.
Carter caught her looking.
His laughter faded into a smile.
The courtyard lights reflected in his eyes, and for a second the noise around them disappeared. The line of students, the dunk tank, Logan plotting Mason’s death, all of it blurred.
“You okay?” he asked.
The question was simple.
But his voice was not.
Lena nodded. “Yeah.”
He stepped closer, hands in his pockets like he was trying very hard not to touch her. “You sure?”
Not about how one fundraiser had turned Carter Hayes from a flirt she could manage into someone she wanted to trust.
But she knew one thing.
She was tired of pretending she didn’t feel it.
“No,” she said softly.
Honest.
Immediate.
“Lena.”
“I’m okay,” she clarified. “I’m just not sure.”
Too soon.
But also already there.
He took one slow breath. “That’s fair.”
“Yeah.” His mouth curved faintly. “I’m not sure about us either.”
Her chest tightened.
He stepped closer.
“But I want to find out.”
Lena stared at him.