Chapter 4 — Carter #3
“And I don’t…” She swallowed. “I don’t do this. I don’t kiss boys behind curtains during charity events. I don’t get distracted from plans. I don’t let people become variables.”
A smile tugged at his mouth. “I’m a variable?”
“You are a catastrophic variable.”
He knew she wasn’t just worried about getting caught, or losing focus, or Mason making jokes.
Carter understood that better than she probably realized.
No teasing now.
“I don’t want to be a thing you regret,” he said.
But they were true.
Maybe the truest thing he had said all day.
“You’re not,” she whispered.
His chest ached.
“But I’m scared you might become one,” she added.
Instead, he nodded.
“Then I guess I have to prove I won’t.”
Lena’s eyes searched his face.
“You can’t prove that in one night,” she said.
“No.” He glanced toward the ballroom. “But I can start.”
Hidden again.
Small and brave.
“Okay,” she said.
For Carter, that felt like more than he deserved.
The walkie-talkie clipped to Lena’s waistband crackled.
“Lena? The puck booth line is getting long, and Mason is telling kids he’s their legal counsel.”
Lena closed her eyes.
Carter squeezed her hand once before letting go. “I’ll handle it.”
“You sure?”
“I’m very good with tiny clients.”
“Do not call them clients.”
God help him, he wanted to.
At the puck booth, Mason stood beside a line of children holding foam sticks and wearing the exact expression of a man running an underground operation.
Carter approached. “What are you doing?”
Mason brightened. “Teaching them negotiation.”
A little boy with a sticker on his cheek nodded. “I got extra tickets.”
Carter looked at Mason.
Mason looked proud.
“No,” Carter said.
“But he had a compelling case.”
Carter took the roll of prize tickets from him. “You’re demoted.”
“To what?”
“Sticker table.”
Mason gasped. “With glitter?”
“Without glitter.”
“I’m growing.”
Mason squinted at him. “Did Clipboard praise you again?”
“Sticker table.”
For the next hour, Carter ran the puck booth.
That was alarming.
Kids lined up to shoot foam pucks into a mini net. Some were fearless. Some were shy. One tiny girl in sparkly sneakers announced she was going to “destroy hockey” and then missed the puck completely three times before Carter helped her adjust her grip.
The donation number climbed past the initial goal and kept going. The silent auction baskets were packed with bids. The hospital board looked pleased. Denise was no longer gripping her tablet like a weapon. Coach had almost smiled twice.
Lena moved through the room with less tension in her shoulders now.
Liked thinking maybe he had helped put that ease there.
He was helping a little boy line up a puck when a woman’s voice spoke beside him.
“Carter Hayes?”
A blonde woman in a fitted red dress stood near the booth, holding a bidder paddle and smiling like she already knew the answer to whatever she was about to ask.
Maybe from some athletic department event.
Maybe from a past version of him that had smiled too easily at girls whose names he did not plan to remember.
“Hey,” he said carefully.
Her smile widened. “I thought that was you.”
Mason, unfortunately, had returned within earshot.
Carter ignored him.
The woman stepped closer. “It’s Savannah, remember? We met at that hockey party last semester.”
Not much.
Enough to know this conversation was not ideal with Lena in the same room.
“Right,” he said. “Savannah. How are you?”
“Better now.” Her gaze moved over him in a way that would have amused him two weeks ago.
Tonight, it made him uncomfortable.
Because he knew exactly how it looked.
And because Lena had just told him she was scared he might become a regret.
Love that.
Savannah touched his forearm lightly. “I didn’t know you were working this event.”
Carter stepped back enough that her hand fell away.
Carter resisted the urge to kick him.
“Yeah,” Carter said. “Helping with the kids’ booth.”
“That’s cute.” Savannah smiled. “Very unexpected.”
People loved being surprised when Carter did anything decent.
She stood near the donor table, still holding her clipboard, her face unreadable.
A knot tightened in his stomach.
Savannah followed his gaze. “Oh. Is that your girlfriend?”
It didn’t.
It made something in his chest go strangely quiet.
“No,” he said.
Lena looked down at her clipboard.
Damn it.
Carter turned back to Savannah immediately.
“Not yet,” he added.
Let everyone hear it.
Savannah laughed lightly, though it had a sharper edge now. “Wow. Okay. Good luck with that.”
“Thanks,” Carter said.
Savannah walked away.
Mason appeared beside him, eyes wide. “Not yet?”
“Don’t.”
“Not yet, he says.”
“Mason.”
“That was either very smooth or very stupid.”
Mason clutched his chest. “I’ve never been prouder.”
Carter shoved the prize tickets into his hands. “Watch the booth.”
“Where are you going?”
“To stop being stupid before it spreads.”
He stopped beside her at the donor table, close enough to be heard over the noise but not close enough to trap her.
“Hey.”
She looked at the clipboard. “Hey.”
“You saw that.”
“Yes.”
“I stepped back.”
“I saw.”
“And I said—”
Lena’s expression stayed carefully controlled.
Too controlled.
“Brooks,” he said softly.
Fear.
His chest squeezed.
“She flirted,” Lena said.
“You’ve probably had a lot of girls flirt with you.”
She looked down again. “And you’re good at it.”
Not with her.
Carter shifted closer, careful to keep his voice low. “I’m not going to pretend I have some spotless history. I don’t. I was exactly the guy people think I am plenty of times.”
Her throat moved.
“But not with you,” he said. “And not now.”
Lena’s eyes searched his.
“I don’t know how to trust that yet,” she said.
“I know.”
“That’s not fair to you.”
“Maybe not.” He gave a small smile. “But I earned some of it before I even got here.”
Now he wanted Lena to believe he could be different just because he wanted it.
He was starting to understand that.
“I’m not asking you to trust it tonight,” he said.
She looked back at him.
“I’m asking you to let me keep showing up.”
The wall in her face cracked.
Just a little.
“Okay,” she said.
Someone started clapping.
Then more people joined in.
Lena turned toward the screen.
For a second, Lena just stared.
Then her hand flew to her mouth.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Carter looked at her instead of the screen.
Not now.
Instead, he leaned close and said, “You did that.”
She shook her head. “We did.”
He smiled.
She smiled back.
And for a few seconds, in the middle of the ballroom, with donors cheering and kids yelling and Mason somehow starting a chant of “HELMUTS! HELMUTS!” before Jonah clamped a hand over his mouth, Carter felt something he could not remember feeling in a long time.
Something quieter.
Like maybe showing up was its own kind of win.
And maybe Lena Brooks was the kind of risk worth taking seriously.