Chapter 11 — Lena #2
The sun had gone down, leaving the parking lot washed in diner neon and early summer dusk. The air smelled faintly like rain again, though the sky was clear.
Carter leaned against the passenger door, facing her.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You keep asking dangerous questions.”
He looked down, then back up. “Did last night scare you away at all?”
Her chest tightened.
“No.”
“Not even a little?”
She stepped closer. “It scared me. But not away.”
His eyes searched hers.
“I don’t want my life to be drama,” he said.
“I know.”
“I don’t want you thinking being with me means hospital waiting rooms and messes and my family trauma before we’ve even figured out what we are.”
“Carter.”
“I know that’s not rational.”
“It’s not,” she agreed.
His mouth twitched. “Thanks.”
“But I understand it.”
She reached for his hand.
“Last night didn’t make me want to run,” she said. “It made me see you clearer.”
His throat moved.
“And?” he asked.
Her voice softened. “I still want to be here.”
The vulnerable hope in his face nearly undid her.
Then he tugged her gently closer, his hand sliding to her waist.
“Here?” he asked.
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Closer.”
It always seemed to start that way now, like Carter was asking before taking anything, like he wanted her to know she could still step away.
Her hands slid up his chest, and Carter’s fingers flexed at her waist. His mouth moved over hers, slow and warm, and the kiss deepened under the neon glow of Maggie’s Kitchen like they had all the time in the world.
Carter made a low sound against her mouth when she curled her fingers in the edge of his hoodie, and the heat of it traveled through her whole body.
His forehead rested against hers.
“I’m trying to be respectful in public,” he murmured.
“You keep saying that like I’m helping.”
This one was shorter.
Still enough to leave her dizzy.
When they pulled apart, Carter brushed his thumb once along her cheek.
“Come with me somewhere?” he asked.
“Now?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
Her expression must have changed, because he hurried on.
“My dad asked if you’d come by. My mom did too. No pressure. You can say no. I just thought…” He exhaled. “I want them to see I’m okay. And I think I look more okay with you.”
That was unfair.
Tenderly unfair.
“Yes,” she said.
At the hospital, visiting hours were technically ending soon, but Anne met them near the entrance with visitor stickers and the kind of determined smile that suggested she had already negotiated with at least one nurse.
Michael looked better.
Still tired. Still pale.
But sitting up, with a tray of untouched hospital food in front of him and a baseball game muted on the television.
His face brightened when Carter walked in.
Then brightened more when he saw Lena.
“There she is,” Michael said. “The woman who got my son to eat eggs.”
Lena smiled. “I can’t take full credit. He complained the entire time.”
“Good. That means he’s alive.”
Carter sat in the chair beside the bed. “I’m right here.”
“We know,” Anne said, handing Lena a coffee from a paper cup. “This is for you.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
Carter looked at his mom. “Where’s mine?”
Anne gave him a look. “You’re already twitchy.”
Michael pointed at Carter. “She’s right.”
“Medical betrayal,” Carter muttered.
About hockey. About Maggie’s. About the fundraiser. About the fact that Mason had apparently sent Michael the dunk tank meme and Michael had replied with needs more dignity, which Mason misinterpreted as encouragement.
How Lena, who was always careful, seemed less guarded with them than he expected.
Michael held out a hand, and Lena took it.
“Thank you for staying with him last night,” he said, softer than before.
Lena’s expression changed.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Yes,” Michael said. “I do.”
Too much.
His dad squeezed Lena’s hand. “He acts tough, but he’s always been the kid who felt everything. He just learned to skate fast enough that people stopped noticing.”
He could not look at her yet.
Not with that sentence hanging open in the room.
“Dad,” Carter said quietly.
Michael nodded, understanding.
“Yeah,” he said. “All right.”
In the hallway, Carter walked beside Lena in silence.
Lena reached for his hand.
He took it immediately.
“Your dad is wonderful,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“He loves you a lot.”
The hallway stretched ahead, quiet and pale.
He looked down at their hands.
“That’s the hard part,” he said.
Lena turned toward him.
“I think that’s why I joke so much,” he admitted. “People seeing the fun version is easy. It doesn’t cost anything. But my parents…” He swallowed. “They see all of it. Coach sees more than I want. You see too much.”
“I don’t want to make you feel exposed.”
“You don’t.” He looked at her then. “You make me want to stop hiding. That’s worse.”
Her eyes softened.
“Worse?” she asked.
“Scarier.”
She stepped closer. “But not bad?”
He shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Not bad.”
For a second, neither moved.
Then Lena wrapped her arms around him right there in the hospital hallway.
“I don’t want to run from you,” he whispered.
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
“I might mess it up.”
He let out a surprised laugh.
She smiled gently. “So might I. That doesn’t mean we stop trying.”
He touched her cheek.
“I really want to kiss you,” he said.
“We are in a hospital hallway.”
“I am aware.”
“Your parents are twenty feet away.”
“Also aware.”
“Your mother already told you to marry me.”
His mouth twitched. “Technically, my dad did.”
She stepped closer, eyes glinting. “Maybe not here.”
His hand slid to her waist. “Parking lot?”
“Carter.”
“What? We have a theme.”
Heavy with everything unsaid.
Lena looked over. “Text me when you get back to the hospital?”
“I’m going home first. Mom ordered me to sleep in a bed tonight or she’ll call Coach.”
“Good.”
“Bossy women have formed an alliance.”
“We have a group chat.”
He smiled.
Then the smile faded into something softer.
“Thank you for today.”
“You’re welcome.”
“And yesterday.”
“Carter.”
“And the hospital. And the cafeteria muffin. And not running when my dad accidentally tried to emotional damage both of us.”
Her face softened.
“You can thank me by sleeping.”
“I can do that.”
“And eating breakfast tomorrow.”
“Demanding.”
“And texting me updates.”
His smile returned. “There it is.”
“What?”
“The list.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. No list.”
“No,” he said quickly, reaching for her hand. “I like the list.”
She looked at him.
“I like that you care enough to make one,” he said.
Exactly enough to make him want more and not enough to make him ask.
When she pulled back, her eyes stayed on his.
“Goodnight, Carter.”
His name in her voice.
Still his favorite thing.
“Goodnight, Lena.”
As he drove back to his apartment, Carter realized something that should have scared him more than it did.
He did not just want Lena when she was laughing, flirting, kissing him under lights, or looking at him like he was worth the risk.
That was not casual.
That was not slow.
That was not a game he could skate away from when it got too real.
Carter pulled into his apartment lot and sat in the driver’s seat for a moment, phone in hand.
Carter: Home. Going to sleep. Ate real food. Will send updates tomorrow. Checklist complete.
For the first time since the phone call after the game, Carter slept hard and dreamless, with Lena’s name still somewhere steady in the center of him.
But after Paige went to shower, Lena sat in bed for a few more minutes, staring at the phone.
Not with Carter, whose wanting did not feel casual even when he tried to soften it.
And maybe Paige was right.
Maybe this was falling.
But for the first time, Lena wondered if falling always had to mean losing control.
By four o’clock, Lena had survived two classes, one group project meeting, and exactly zero minutes of emotional stability.
She arrived at the coffee shop near the library three minutes early because punctuality was not a flaw, no matter what Paige suggested.
Carter was already there.
Like he had been waiting.
Like seeing her was the best part of his day.
“Brooks,” he said when she reached him.
“Hayes.”
He handed her a cup. “Oat milk. Two pumps vanilla. Extra shot.”
“I know my order.”
“I know your order too.”
“That’s not as casual as you think it sounds.”
His smile softened. “Wasn’t trying to sound casual.”
Dangerous.
She took the coffee because she needed something to do with her hands. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
They found a table near the window, tucked away from the louder crowd of students near the entrance. Carter pulled out her chair halfway like he thought about it, then looked vaguely embarrassed by himself.
Lena sat before he could overthink it.
“That was very gentlemanly,” she said.
“Don’t tell Mason. He’ll start calling me Sir Feelings.”
“Too late. Paige might hear and tell him.”
His eyes narrowed. “Our friends meeting may create a monster.”
“Our friends meeting already created a surveillance network.”
Then the softness in his face shifted toward something more serious.
“Dad’s doing okay,” he said before she could ask.
“Still waiting on one more test. Mom says he’s bored, which is probably a good sign.”
Carter turned his cup slowly between his hands. “I’m going back after this.”
“I figured.”
“You don’t have to come.”
He looked up.
She held his gaze.
“I want to,” she said.
Maybe a lot.
Maybe she wanted to find out.
“I want you there,” he said quietly.
Carter nodded, then looked down at his coffee again.
She was learning him too.
“I should probably tell you something,” he said.
He exhaled. “My dad getting sick shook me up for obvious reasons. But there’s another layer.”
Carter’s gaze stayed fixed on the table.
“My grandfather died when my dad was twenty-four,” he said. “Heart attack. Sudden. My dad was young, but old enough that it changed everything for him. He had to help my grandmother with bills, help with his younger sister, all of it.”
Carter nodded.