Chapter 19 - Karter
Apparently my family name bought me the nicest leather chair in the room for my own interrogation.
I sat perfectly still across from Hastings and kept my breathing even.
Walking through the dark administrative wing to get here had twisted my stomach because the whole setup was too familiar.
I grew up watching my family use this exact type of leverage.
And keeping the athletic director at his desk on a Saturday night was just standard protocol when they wanted to bury a problem.
Still, while I knew exactly how the machinery worked, I never thought they would point it at me.
Now, surviving tonight meant playing the good legacy kid and lying my way out of this room without giving him a single thread to pull.
Hastings flipped open the file that was sitting between us. He adjusted his glasses and sighed.
“Karter,” Hastings said. “Thank you for coming in so late.”
He used what sounded like a concerned tone, as though he were just checking in on a friend. But I saw through the play the second he started talking.
The admin needed me to act like the intimidated freshman so they could quietly cut the problem player from the team. All I had to do was look rattled, nod along, and let them get rid of Aleksey.
My heart hammered against my ribs, but instead of folding, I leaned back in the chair.
I crossed one ankle over my knee and forced my shoulders to drop.
I pictured the flat, untouchable stare my dad used when people were wasting his time, and I let it settle over my face to hide the bitter panic I could taste in the back of my mouth.
“It isn’t a problem, sir,” I said smoothly. “How can I help you?”
Hastings laced his fingers together on the desk.
“My sense is that we need to clear up some rumors,” Hastings said. “We’ve received a complaint regarding your relationship with Aleksey Zotov.”
Leaning forward slightly, I rested my arms on the armrests, shifting in my seat. “A complaint?”
“Yes,” Hastings tilted his head. “It claims the two of you have an inappropriate dynamic. We only want to ensure your safety and well-being, Karter.”
He was pretending to care. But I answered with polite understatement, making sure our relationship sounded purely academic.
“I don’t know what you mean by dynamic,” I said, my voice dead level. “We study together.”
Hastings nodded slowly. “Of course. And did Aleksey ever enter your room uninvited?”
Every question painted Aleksey as a predator. I let out a quick breath, acting confused. “No, of course not.”
“The report mentions late-night visits to your dorm.” Hastings flipped a page in his folder. “Were your study sessions always appropriate?”
“Yes,” I said. “I help him with his classes. Coach Corby made the arrangement mandatory.”
“And he demanded nothing else from you?”
“No.”
“Did you ever feel pressured by Aleksey, Karter?” Hastings dropped his voice to that fake, gentle level again. “If you feel intimidated, the university is here to support you.”
“I don’t feel intimidated.” I stared right back at him. “He’s just my teammate.”
It was a complete standoff.
Hastings knew I was covering for Aleksey. And I knew Hasting was just fishing for a reason to cut the scholarship player from the roster. But we kept the volume between us low and polite. No one yelled. No one accused.
Hastings let out a slow breath and leaned back with a tight nod of his head. He obviously wasn’t buying a word of it.
The muscles at the base of my skull seized up. My fingers twitched with the urge to press into the back of my neck, but I locked my hands onto my knees instead. I would not give him a physical reaction to read.
“Well,” Hastings closed the manila folder. “Thank you, Karter. I appreciate you making the time. That will be all for tonight.”
“Have a good night,” I said.
I stood up and walked out.
The solid door clicked shut behind me, but the sick feeling in my gut only got worse. My polite denials weren’t going to kill off this investigation. Hastings needed a scapegoat, which meant he was already hunting for another angle.
I was already running through a mental list of who else Hastings might have questioned before Aleksey got blindsided. But that plan died the second I pushed through the double doors into the main athletic hallway and froze.
The corridor was totally empty except for the buzzing fluorescent lights overhead and my brother. Elliot stood dead center in the hallway with his arms crossed over his chest, looking at me like I was a rookie who had just blown a play.
“You look like you’re about to throw up,” Elliot said, his voice bouncing off the metal lockers.
“Good to see you too,” I said. I tried to step around him. “If we’re done, I want to go to sleep.”
He stepped sideways, blocking my path. “Stop deflecting. Hastings talked to you about Zotov, right?”
“Yeah, he asked if the guy knows how to read flashcards. It was a thrilling ten minutes.”
Elliot didn’t laugh. His jaw clenched tight, the way it always did when he was losing patience with my bullshit. “I know he pressed you. I was in that same chair an hour ago.”
My feet were locked to the floor. The cold buzzing of the lights suddenly felt a lot louder. “Why were you talking to the AD?”
“Because he asked if I noticed anything weird going on with you.” Elliot dropped his arms and took a half step forward. “And I wasn’t going to lie to him.”
“About what?” I asked. My voice went dangerously flat. “What exactly did you not lie about, Elliot?”
“The fact that you have been off for weeks,” Elliot’s volume crept up. “So I told the AD that the guy has been aggressive all season.”
The air in my lungs went stale.
“Are you out of your mind?” I dropped the unassuming act. “You just handed them the excuse they need to pull his scholarship.”
“I am trying to bail you out!” Elliot shot back. “Hastings is building a case against him, Karter. They are looking for proof that a senior is preying on a freshman. So if he tried something on you...”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why are you defending him?” Elliot grabbed my shoulder, his grip tight. “Didn’t I tell you not to let that guy get to you?”
I shoved his hand off my shoulder. “El, I don’t need you to play captain with my whole life.” Closing the gap between us, the rest of my words came out cold. “He didn’t do anything to me,” I said. “I wanted it. I wanted him.”
Elliot froze, face going blank as his arms fell slack at his sides. He just stood there staring at me as if I’d just grown two heads.
“You’re telling me you’re... with Zotov?” Elliot asked me with an incredulous scoff. “With him? The guy I told you to stay away from?”
“Yeah.”
I then waited for the yelling, the lecture about team optics, or the family reputation.
But Elliot didn’t yell. Instead, the fight just drained right out of his posture. He stared at me as if he didn’t even recognize the guy standing in front of him.
“I need time,” he mumbled.
With that, he turned around and walked down the corridor without looking back. And I just stood there in the empty hallway, watching his Ridge Cross jacket disappear around the corner.
I had actually done it. I just torched the only family tie I gave a shit about.
The hurt of it hit hard, but blind panic burned right through it. The administration was coming for Aleksey right this minute. So, I broke into a dead sprint, shoved open the exit doors, and ran across campus to the Ice House.
Sprinting across campus did nothing to burn off the adrenaline flooding my system.
About halfway to the Ice House, Clay stepped out of the student union. He opened his mouth to say something, probably asking where I was going in such a rush, but I blew right past him. A girl from my bio lab called my name near the quad a minute later, but I kept my head down and kept running.
When I made it back up to the attic, my room was dark. Matt wasn’t in, leaving our shared space quiet. I dropped my phone on the desk and stared at the screen, still lit up with the message I had sent on the sprint over.
Elliot talked to Hastings. It’s not good. Also, I told Elliot about us.
The “Read” receipt sat there mocking me for five agonizing minutes. Then the typing bubble popped up, disappeared, and a single text came through: Where are you?
My room, I typed back.
I paced the room, surrounded by silence. If Aleksey was already in his room, I would have heard him moving through the thin drywall, but there was nothing.
Ten minutes later, I heard boots hammering up the wooden stairs.
He didn’t bother knocking. The handle jerked down, and Aleksey shoved his way inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He looked like he had sprinted the entire way back, his eyes locking onto me, wild with panic.
“You told Elliot? Why the hell would you do that!?” Aleksey paced a tight circle in the middle of the small room, rubbing a hand over his short hair. His boots scuffed the floorboards with every turn.
I tried to deflect. “If you keep pacing like that, you’re going to put a hole straight through to the second floor.”
“The floor.” Aleskey ran a hand over his face as a humorless breath punched out of him. “You’re worried about the floor.”
“This house is already one bad snowstorm away from collapsing.” I shrugged. “I’d rather not speed it up.”
“Karter.”
“Aleks.”
His jaw jumped. “You told Elliot. Your brother. The captain. The guy who always reports directly to Corby.”
“I know who Elliot is. I’ve met him a few times.”
That joke landed wrong. Aleksey stepped toward me, closing the distance until I had to tilt my chin up. The heat rolling off him cut through the attic’s chill. “This isn’t funny.”
“Good. I wasn’t joking.” I held his stare and let the smirk drop. “Besides, I was done lying to him about us.”
“Are you actually stupid? Elliot is going to walk straight into the AD’s office and hand you over.”
“He already talked to Hastings,” I said, keeping my voice level as I leaned back against the door. “Before I even walked in. He told them you were aggressive.”