Chapter 11 — Lena
Lena
Lena Brooks slept for three hours and woke up with Carter Hayes in her chest.
Not literally.
Obviously.
Literally would have required a medical explanation she was too exhausted to provide.
But emotionally?
Emotionally, he was there.
Somewhere between her ribs and her throat, wrapped around every memory from the night before.
The arena lights.
Lena stared at her dorm ceiling, her body heavy with exhaustion and her mind wide awake.
Paige was asleep across the room, one arm flung over her face, her textbook still open upside down on the floor like it had lost a fight.
Lena turned her head toward her phone.
Carter was at the hospital with his parents. He had promised to text after cardiology, and he would.
More than she had planned to believe anyone who looked like Carter Hayes and smiled like danger with dimples.
Carter: Cardiology came by. Still reassuring. They want one more test, but Dad is making jokes about hospital oatmeal, so morale is stable.
Lena: That’s good. Really good. How are you?
Carter: Tired. Better. Still scared, but less frozen.
Lena pressed the phone lightly against her chest.
No deflection, except maybe the oatmeal.
Lena: That sounds reasonable. Eat something real today.
Carter: Are muffins real?
Lena: Three hours. Paige is unconscious beside a dead textbook.
Lena laughed softly into the quiet room.
Paige stirred. “If that’s hockey boy, tell him I’m judging him for making you giggle before noon.”
Lena froze. “Go back to sleep.”
Paige rolled over, eyes barely open. “Did he text?”
“Yes.”
“Dad okay?”
“Better. More tests, but reassuring.”
Paige’s face softened. “Good.”
Then she squinted. “Did you say hockey boy how are you, or did you immediately make a list of action items?”
Lena looked at her phone.
Paige groaned. “You told him to eat, didn’t you?”
“That is a valid concern.”
“Lena.”
“You stayed in a hospital all night with him. You can flirt before prescribing breakfast.”
“I flirt.”
“You administrate with cheekbones.”
Lena threw a pillow.
Paige caught it against her chest and sat up, hair everywhere. “Look, I support your responsible romance era. But maybe today you let him know you want to see him because you want to see him, not because his electrolyte intake concerns you.”
“I don’t do that.”
Paige stared.
Lena looked back at her phone.
Carter: Also, Mom asked if you made it home safely. Dad asked if you’re single, then Mom hit his arm. His vitals survived.
Lena’s cheeks heated.
Paige leaned forward. “What? Face. You have a face.”
“His parents are dangerous.”
“Oh, they like you.”
“I met them during a medical emergency.”
“Trauma bonding. Efficient.”
“Do not call it efficient.”
Paige grinned. “You liked that I did.”
She looked back at Carter’s message, thumbs hovering.
Lena: Tell your dad I’m unavailable to anyone who doesn’t eat real food after a hospital scare.
Carter: So I still have a chance if I upgrade from muffins?
Carter: You want to see me today? After I get Dad settled?
Lena typed before she could turn the answer into a committee meeting.
Carter: Not because I need something. Just because I want you.
Lena stopped breathing.
Paige’s eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
Lena locked her phone and pressed it to her chest.
“Nothing.”
“Oh my God, it was something.”
“It was private.”
“Private something means good something.”
Carter: I’ll text you. Sleep more first. That’s an order.
Lena smiled so hard Paige groaned.
“Disgusting,” Paige said, falling back onto her bed. “I preferred you emotionally unavailable.”
“I was never emotionally unavailable.”
“You owned three planners and called spontaneity a structural threat.”
Lena stared at the ceiling again, phone warm in her hand, Carter’s words warmer in her mind.
By late afternoon, Lena had slept two more hours, showered, finished the donor thank-you email draft, and pretended not to check her phone every seven minutes.
Carter: Dad’s test went okay. They’re keeping him one more night because hospitals are clingy, but he’s stable. Mom ordered me to leave for a few hours and shower because apparently I look haunted.
Carter: She also said to take you to dinner. Suspiciously specific.
Carter: She likes you more than me right now.
Carter: Harsh. True. Are you free in an hour?
Carter: I’ll pick you up at 5:45. Real food. No hospital eggs.
Lena set her phone down, then immediately picked it up again because her hands did not know what to do.
Paige watched from her bed, where she was highlighting a textbook with the focused aggression of someone punishing academia.
“Date two-point-five?” Paige asked.
“Meaning you’ll panic and choose between four versions of casual.”
The final choice was jeans, a soft green top, and sneakers. Comfortable. Simple. Not trying too hard.
Lena found him outside the dorm entrance in faded jeans and a Ridgeview hoodie, hair damp from a shower, face tired but brighter when he saw her.
He looked like he had been through a long night and still decided to show up with whatever he had left.
That mattered more than polished.
“Hey,” he said.
“You look beautiful.”
She smiled. “You say that when I’m in jeans, dresses, hospital lighting, and post-event collapse.”
“Because I have range.”
“Or low standards.”
His smile softened. “Not with you.”
His face lowered into her hair, and he exhaled like he had been carrying the whole hospital in his chest and could finally set some of it down.
Lena closed her eyes.
“You okay?” she whispered.
“Your okay or mine?”
For a moment, they just stood like that outside the dorm with students walking past and late-afternoon sun warming the sidewalk.
No jokes.
No rush.
Then Carter pulled back enough to look at her.
“Thank you for last night.”
“You don’t have to keep thanking me.”
“I know. I’m going to anyway.”
She smiled.
He took her hand. “Come on. I promised real food.”
“Where are we going?”
“No. My parents’ favorite place near the hospital. My dad says the meatloaf tastes like regret, but he orders it every time.”
“That is either a terrible review or a strong endorsement.”
Lena buckled in and glanced at the back seat. “Do you live out of this car?”
He looked at the back seat.
“Partially,” he amended.
“That shoe has questions.”
“That shoe has seen things.”
Full, but gentle.
Carter eventually glanced at her. “My dad liked you.”
“I’m not surprised he liked you. I’m surprised he was awake enough to start recruiting.”
“Recruiting?”
“You know. To the family.”
Lena’s stomach flipped.
Carter seemed to realize what he had said a second too late.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “That was—”
“It’s okay.”
His eyes flicked to hers. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She squeezed his hand. “Your parents were kind to me.”
Inside, Maggie’s smelled like coffee, gravy, and old vinyl booths.
It was perfect.
A waitress with silver hair and sharp eyes looked up from behind the counter. “Carter Hayes. Your mama finally kick you out of the hospital?”
Carter smiled. “Hi, Maggie.”
Lena looked at him. “You know everyone?”
“Everyone important.”
Maggie’s gaze landed on Lena, then their joined hands.
“Well, well,” she said.
Carter sighed. “Please don’t.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
“You said well twice.”
“And I meant both.” Maggie grabbed two menus. “Booth?”
Maggie led them to a corner booth and winked at Lena before walking away.
Lena slid into the booth. “Everyone in your life is subtle.”
Carter sat across from her, looking more relaxed than he had since the phone call.
That alone made the trip worth it.
They ordered coffee, burgers, fries, and absolutely not the meatloaf despite Carter insisting his dad would respect them less.
When Maggie left, Carter leaned back. “So.”
“This is where my parents used to take me after tournaments when I was a kid. If we won, fries. If we lost, fries.”
“I like it.”
“They always said food after a game was for talking only if I wanted to talk.” He looked down at the table. “Sometimes I didn’t. My dad would just sit there eating terrible meatloaf and not make me explain why I was mad.”
Lena softened. “That sounds like love.”
Carter nodded slowly. “Yeah. It was.”
The past tense made her heart pinch.
“Is,” she said gently.
His eyes lifted.
“It is love,” she said. “He’s still here.”
Carter swallowed.
“Yeah,” he said roughly. “He is.”
Mason, who had apparently texted Carter a poorly edited photo of himself in the dunk tank with the words BAPTIZED BY FUNDRAISING across the top.
Lena laughed so hard she nearly dropped a fry.
Carter watched her like her laugh had fixed something.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You have a face.”
“I like when you laugh.”
Her cheeks warmed.
“You’re getting too good at that.”
“At what?”
“Saying things that make me not know what to do.”
His smile softened. “Good.”
She rolled her eyes, but under the table, her foot brushed his.
Lena’s breath caught.
His mouth curved just slightly.
“Brooks,” he said, voice low.
“Hayes.”
“You flirting under diner furniture?”
“I’m stretching.”
“Liar.”
“You love that word.”
“Mostly when it makes you blush.”
“I am not blushing.”
Maggie passed by with a coffee pot. “Honey, you are absolutely blushing.”
Carter dropped his head back and laughed.
Lena covered her face. “I hate this diner.”
“No, you don’t,” Maggie said, refilling Carter’s cup. “You hate being obvious.”
Carter was grinning.
“Not,” she said, pointing at him, “one word.”
His grin remained unbearable.
They finished dinner, and Carter paid before Lena could argue by handing Maggie his card when Lena was distracted reading the dessert board.
“Sneaky,” Lena said as they stepped outside.
“Strategic.”
“I was going to pay for coffee.”
“You paid last time.”
“For coffee. You bought dinner.”
“Then you can pay next time.”
Just assumed.
Lena liked it too much.
“Next time,” she said.
Carter’s expression softened. “Yeah?”