Chapter 6 Harper
Harper
The game ended in a blur of high-fives and parents herding kids toward minivans. Trevor bounded over to me, face red, hair plastered to his forehead under the helmet.
“Aunt Harper! Did you see my hit?”
“I did,” I said, crouching to wipe the dirt smudge from his cheek. “You were amazing.”
He puffed up, chest proud, before darting off to chase a teammate.
I straightened, scanning the crowd, and found Carter across the diamond.
He was helping a little boy sling a bat bag over his shoulder, crouched low, steady and patient.
Not the man from the ER. Not the soldier.
Just a coach making sure a kid didn’t trip under the weight of his gear.
Something in my chest gave way at the sight.
When the last of the kids cleared, Carter caught my eye and tilted his head toward the snack stand. An invitation. I hesitated all of two seconds before nodding.
The line was short—just a few teenagers stocking up on candy. Carter waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.
“You really meant it, huh?” he said.
“Meant what?”
“That you’re good.” He leaned one hip against the counter, hands loose at his sides, but his gaze was sharper than the casual pose.
I exhaled, looking out at the emptying bleachers. “Good enough. Nights are still… harder. But I’ve learned not everything can be fixed. I can’t be scared to leave my house.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah. Some things you just carry differently.”
The way he said it—low, certain—told me his own ghosts weren’t far behind.
I studied him for a moment. Sunlight cut across his face, highlighting the hard lines, the faint shadow of stubble.
The man had been danger personified in a hospital corridor, but here, in daylight, he was something else entirely.
Still dangerous, but in a way that made my pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
“You never told me,” I said. “Why you were there that night. In the ER.”
He didn’t flinch. “New to the team. They were tracking the ring. I just happened to be the guy standing next to your curtain when things went sideways.”
I raised a brow. “Just happened?”
That almost-smile ghosted across his face again. “Okay. Maybe not just. But I’m glad I was.”
Something unspoken hung between us. A memory, a possibility, a warning. I felt it hum under my skin.
The clerk slid a bottle of water toward him. Carter paid, then handed it to me without asking if I wanted one. I took it, fingers brushing his for the briefest second.
Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice, “I don’t want to crowd you. But if you ever need to talk —or not talk — I’m around.”
My throat tightened. I wasn’t used to men offering space instead of trying to fill it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said softly.
He nodded once, like that was enough. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
And with that, he tipped his cap and walked me back toward the parking lot, keeping just enough distance to be respectful, but close enough that I felt it all the way down to my bones.
We walked side by side toward the parking lot, the late afternoon sun dipping low, kids weaving between cars with gloves still on their hands.
My sister called Trevor over, buckling him into her SUV with a snack bribe.
I lingered by my car, keys dangling from my fingers, not quite ready to end the moment.
Carter stopped a few feet away, hand braced on the roof of his truck. He looked at me then—not like a man glancing at a stranger, but like someone cataloging details to keep. The kind of look you feel long after it’s gone.
“Guess I’ll see you around, Harper,” he said.
“Guess you will.”
He tugged his cap lower, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him—just the faintest curve, like he knew a secret.
Before sliding behind his wheel, he added, almost too quietly, “You look different in the sun.”
I blinked. “Different how?”
His grin edged wider, but he didn’t answer. He just started the engine, gave me one last nod, and pulled out of the lot.
I stood there a moment longer, pulse thudding, the echo of his words threading under my skin.
Different in the sun.
It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.