Chapter 8 — Carter
Carter
Carter Hayes had officially learned that taking things slow was a terrible idea.
Not morally.
Morally, it was excellent.
Respectful. Mature. Healthy. Probably endorsed by therapists, campus advisors, and mothers everywhere.
Practically?
It was killing him.
Because he had taken Lena Brooks on one real date, kissed her under park lights like he was the hero in a movie he had absolutely no business starring in, walked her back to her dorm like a decent human being, and then left.
Left.
A noble idiot.
A suffering noble idiot.
And now it was Saturday morning, and he was supposed to focus on hockey.
The locker room buzzed around him with pre-practice noise. Tape ripping. Music playing from Mason’s speaker. Sticks knocking against benches. Logan Reeves silently looking like he had woken up angry at gravity.
Carter sat at his locker, staring at his phone.
Lena had texted him exactly thirteen minutes ago.
Lena: Good luck at practice. Try not to start any fights with stationary objects.
Like she wanted him to show up again.
Like this thing between them had moved from accidental heat to intentional risk.
And Carter had never wanted to show up for anything more in his life.
Mason dropped onto the bench beside him. “You’re doing the phone thing again.”
Carter locked his screen. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re smiling at it like it gave you playoff tickets and emotional validation.”
“Maybe it did.”
“Oh my God.” Mason leaned back, clutching his chest. “He admits emotional validation.”
“I said maybe.”
“Growth.”
“Shut up.”
Mason pointed toward Carter’s phone. “Second date?”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “How do you know?”
“Because yesterday was first date, and you came back looking like a man who had discovered outdoor kissing and moral restraint at the same time.”
Jonah snorted from across the aisle.
Tank looked up. “Outdoor kissing sounds peaceful.”
Logan, taping his stick without looking up, said, “Until Mason finds out.”
“Excuse me,” Mason said. “I am a romantic ally.”
“You’re a romantic hazard,” Carter said.
Mason grinned. “Both can be true.”
Carter shoved his phone into his bag before he could check it again. “Can we practice now?”
Coach Harlan’s whistle shrieked from the hallway like an answer from heaven.
“On the ice in two,” Coach barked.
Mason stood. “Great. Carter can work out his feelings through controlled skating.”
Carter pointed at him. “Keep talking and I’ll work them out through you.”
“See? Romance has made him playful.”
“Romance has made me dangerous.”
His gaze moved over Carter’s face, sharp and unreadable.
“Don’t bring distracted into tonight’s game,” Logan said.
Not because Logan was captain.
He wasn’t.
But when Logan Reeves said something in that low, flat voice, people listened.
Carter’s jaw tightened. “I won’t.”
Just enough pressure to remind Carter that the season did not pause because he had discovered feelings.
Ridgeview had a home game against Briarwood, and while Briarwood was not Lakeview State, they played cheap, chirped constantly, and had a winger named Miles Decker who loved getting under skin.
Carter: I’ll leave you a ticket. Wear Ridgeview blue so I know who to show off for.
Lena: I thought you were playing for the team.
Of course he noticed.
“Careful with the lace, Romeo. It didn’t hurt you.”
Carter stood. “Ice. Now.”
The second Carter stepped onto the ice, his body remembered what to do. Skate hard. Cut clean. Keep his head up. Move the puck. Finish through the drill.
Coach pushed them through a fast practice, more tune-up than punishment. Breakouts. Power play. Defensive-zone coverage. Short shooting lanes.
Carter scored twice in drills and heard Mason shout, “For love!” before Coach made him do a lap.
Worth it.
Mostly.
When practice ended, Coach pulled Carter aside near the boards.
“Better,” Coach said.
“Was there concern?”
“There’s always concern with you.”
“Comforting.”
Coach’s mouth twitched. “Keep your head tonight.”
“I will.”
“I mean it. Briarwood likes baiting penalties.”
Miles Decker had chirped him into a stupid shove last season, and Carter had spent two minutes in the box while Briarwood scored on the power play. Coach had not forgotten.
Neither had Carter.
“You’re playing well,” Coach said. “Don’t hand them momentum because you feel something and don’t know where to put it.”
Carter looked at him sharply.
Coach stared back, unbothered.
“That was about hockey?” Carter asked.
“That was about everything.”
“Subtle as always.”
“Subtle doesn’t work on you.”
Fair.
Coach tapped the boards. “Shower. Rest. Eat. Be back by five.”
Carter: Puck drops at 7. Come by 6:30. I’ll leave the ticket under your name.
Lena: Do I need to know anything about hockey?
Carter: Cheer when I do something impressive. Boo when Briarwood breathes.
Carter: Yes. She can supervise Mason from the stands.
Lena: Me too.
Carter smiled down at his phone like an idiot.
From behind him, Mason said, “Disgusting.”
Game nights at Ridgeview felt like a storm being built on purpose.
By six-thirty, the arena was already filling. Students packed the lower section in blue and silver. Parents found seats near center ice. The band warmed up too loudly in the corner. The smell of popcorn, cold air, and old rubber mixed into something Carter had known for years.
He stood in the tunnel with his helmet tucked under one arm, scanning the student section through the gap by the bench.
He told himself he was not looking for Lena.
Cream sweater under a Ridgeview blue jacket. Hair down. Paige beside her, already looking suspicious of the entire arena. Lena’s eyes searched the ice, and when they found him near the tunnel, her whole face changed.
He felt it like a shot of heat straight through his chest.
Mason followed his gaze and sighed. “There she is.”
“Don’t make it weird.”
“I make everything better.”
“You absolutely do not.”
Mason lifted his glove and waved dramatically toward Lena and Paige.
Paige squinted.
Then waved back with two fingers, like she was acknowledging a suspect.
Mason gasped. “She fears me.”
Carter stepped onto the ice, and the game swallowed him whole.
Briarwood came out aggressive, but Ridgeview matched them. Logan crushed a winger along the boards so hard the crowd stood up. Jonah won faceoffs. Mason almost scored on a rebound and then looked personally betrayed by the goalie.
Carter skated his shifts with a strange kind of focus.
Late in the first period, Carter picked off a sloppy pass at center ice and broke in with Mason on his left. The Briarwood defenseman backed up too fast, giving Carter a lane.
The arena exploded.
Mason slammed into him first, yelling, “FOR LOVE!” directly into his cage.
“Stop saying that,” Carter yelled back, laughing.
The rest of the line piled in.
But Carter looked toward section 104.
Paige stood beside her, clapping with what looked like reluctant approval.
Carter’s heart nearly knocked him over harder than Mason had.
Then Miles Decker skated by and ruined the moment.
“Cute,” Decker said. “Did your little girlfriend enjoy that?”
Carter’s smile dropped.
Decker grinned through his cage. “Aw. She did. That’s adorable.”
Not tonight.
Decker followed for half a stride. “Heard you’re all mature now, Hayes. Charity boy. Got yourself a clipboard girlfriend and everything.”
He lined up on the wing.
Decker kept talking.
“She looks too smart for you.”
Carter stared at the puck in the linesman’s hand.
Breathe.
“Probably gets bored when you try to read,” Decker added.
He exploded off the line and drove Decker straight into the boards with a clean hit.
Decker hit the ice, popped back up, and shoved Carter in the chest.
The ref’s whistle chirped.
Coach’s voice cut through the noise from the bench. “Hayes!”
Barely.
Logan appeared between them like a dark wall.
Decker laughed. “Need your guard dog?”
Decker’s laugh faded.
Carter skated back to the bench, breathing hard.
Coach leaned over as Carter stepped in.
“Head,” Coach snapped. “Keep it.”
His eyes flicked to Lena before he could stop himself.
Close enough that Carter felt the old version of himself under his skin.
That was also the point.
Mason dropped beside him on the bench. “Decker’s baiting you.”
“Then stop nibbling.”
Carter shot him a look.
Mason shrugged. “What? I know sports metaphors.”
“You mixed fishing with hockey.”
Smarter.
Decker kept chirping, but Carter answered with speed. He drew a penalty instead of taking one. On the power play, he assisted Logan with a cross-ice pass that gave Ridgeview a 2–0 lead.
When he returned to the bench, Coach nodded once.
Good.
But Carter didn’t feel settled until he looked at Lena.
The final horn sent the student section into chaos. Sticks tapped ice. Gloves bumped. The team crowded around their goalie, then headed toward the tunnel with the roar of the crowd still chasing them.
Carter was sweaty, sore, and more relieved than he wanted to admit.
He showered fast, changed into jeans and a Ridgeview hoodie, and ignored Mason making exaggerated kissy noises until Logan shoved Mason into a locker without looking.
By the time Carter emerged from the arena side exit, Lena and Paige were waiting near the railing outside.
Lena turned when she saw him.
He felt embarrassingly seen.
Paige stood beside her with crossed arms. “Congratulations on the ice violence.”
Carter nodded solemnly. “Thank you. We train hard.”
“I could tell. A man hit another man into glass and everyone applauded.”
“That was Logan. He’s part bear.”
Paige glanced past him. “That makes sense.”
Carter looked at Lena.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey.”
“Did you like the game?”
“I understood maybe forty percent of it.”
“Strong start.”
“But I knew when you scored.”
“Because of the horn?”
“Because you looked at me.”
His chest tightened.
Paige made a choking sound. “I am too single for this.”
Carter smiled, but it softened when he saw the concern still in Lena’s eyes.
Paige noticed too, because she suddenly straightened.
“I’m going to go find Mason and ask why he yelled ‘for love’ after the goal,” Paige said.
Lena looked horrified. “Please don’t encourage him.”
Carter pointed toward the lobby. “He’s probably near the vending machines, pretending protein bars are a food group.”
Paige nodded and walked off, muttering, “For love. Ridiculous.”
A crowd of students streamed past, but the little space near the railing felt separate enough.
Carter leaned one hip against the wall. “You’re looking at me like you have notes.”
“I always have notes.”
“Fair.”
“You almost fought that guy.”
He exhaled. “Yeah.”
“Because he said something?”
Carter looked away.
She stepped closer. “Carter.”
His name in that voice.
The one that did not let him hide.
He glanced back. “He brought you up.”
Her face changed.
“Oh.”
“I didn’t like it.”
“I could tell.”
“I didn’t hit him.”
“You hit him.”
“Legally.”
“That is such a hockey sentence.”
He laughed once, but it faded quickly.
Lena watched him carefully. “I’m not mad.”
“No. But I don’t want to become the thing people use to make you lose control.”
His chest squeezed.
“You won’t.”
“You can’t promise that.”
“No,” he said. “But I can promise I’ll keep working on it.”
He was getting better at those.
She stepped closer until there was barely any space between them.
“You played really well,” she said.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her mouth curved. “Even with the legal violence.”
“I scored for you.”
Her brows lifted. “For me?”
“I mean, for the team. For Ridgeview. For the integrity of sport.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“And also maybe a little for you.”
Her smile widened.
“That was very subtle, by the way,” she said.
“My glove lift?”
“Extremely subtle. Nobody could tell.”
“Good.”
“Except everyone.”
He grinned. “Worth it.”
Crowd noise moved around them, but Carter only saw her.
Lena rose onto her toes and kissed him right there outside the arena.
It was brief at first.
A sweet congratulations kiss.
Then Carter’s hand slid to her waist and the kiss deepened just enough to make his entire body forget the game, the crowd, the bruise on his shoulder, everything.
Mason, obviously.
“FOR LOVE!” he shouted from near the vending machines.
Lena broke the kiss, laughing against Carter’s mouth.
Carter turned his head. “Cross!”
Mason stood beside Paige, grinning like a menace.
Paige looked amused despite herself.
“I asked,” Paige said. “He answered with interpretive shouting.”
“Truly a gift,” Mason said.
The move was so natural, so small, so intimate, that Carter went still.
And again.
Lena pulled back slightly. “You should check that.”
“It’s probably Mason sending me a photo of himself being stupid.”
“I’m standing right here,” Mason called.
His stomach dropped.
Lena saw his face change immediately.
“What is it?” she asked.
“Carter, honey.” Her voice was tight. Trying to be calm and failing. “Your dad’s okay, but he’s at urgent care. He had chest pain during dinner.”
“They think it might be nothing. Maybe reflux. Maybe stress. They’re sending him for more tests.”
Carter’s grip tightened around the phone. “Where are you?”
“St. Anne’s urgent care. They may transfer him to the hospital just to be safe.”
“I’m coming.”
“Carter, you don’t have to—”
He hung up before she could argue.
Lena stood in front of him, face pale with concern.
“Your dad?” she asked.
“Chest pain. Urgent care.”
“Oh my God. Go.”
“I have to—” He looked around like he had lost something. Keys. Bag. Brain. “I need my keys.”
“I’ll drive,” she said immediately.
His eyes snapped to hers. “What?”
“You just played a full game. You’re shaken up. I’ll drive.”
“You don’t have to.”
It gave you something to lose.
But it also put someone beside you when the floor dropped.
He swallowed hard. “Lena.”
She reached for his hand. “Come on.”
Mason had gone quiet now. Paige too.
Carter barely noticed.
He let Lena pull him toward the parking lot.
For once, he didn’t try to make the fear smaller.
He just held her hand and let her lead.