Chapter 10 — Carter #2
“I know that sounds dramatic.”
“No.” His voice was quiet. “It sounds exhausting.”
That made him want to stand up, move around the table, and pull her into him.
He stayed still because this was her truth, and he did not want to interrupt it with his need to comfort.
“It is,” she admitted. “Sometimes. I like being organized. I like having a plan. That’s real. But sometimes I don’t know where responsible ends and afraid begins.”
He understood that more than he wanted to.
“Is that why I scare you?” he asked.
But not because it was cruel.
Because it was honest.
“I’m the wrong choice?” he asked softly.
“No.” She said it fast, then took a breath. “You feel like the choice I can’t predict.”
Carter nodded slowly.
“I don’t want to be bad for you,” he said.
“You’re not.”
“You don’t know that yet.”
A small smile tugged at his mouth. “Fair.”
Lena’s fingers wrapped around her coffee cup.
“But I think…” She hesitated. “I think sometimes a choice can be scary because it matters, not because it’s wrong.”
Their hands linked between the toast and the hospital coffee and the split blueberry muffin.
Mom: Cardiologist came by. Still thinks observation is precautionary. Dad is asking if you ate. Please tell him yes so he stops lecturing from bed.
Carter huffed a laugh.
Lena smiled. “Good.”
“Yeah.” He typed back.
Carter: Yes. Lena forced hospital eggs on me. Tell Dad they were terrible but life-saving.
Mom: He says marry her.
Carter froze.
Lena noticed immediately. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What did she say?”
“Nothing important.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Carter.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“I’m protecting you.”
“From your mother?”
“Show me.”
He sighed and turned the phone around.
Lena read the message.
Her cheeks went bright pink.
For one glorious second, Carter forgot hospitals existed.
“She’s under stress,” Lena said quickly.
“She doesn’t mean—”
“She teaches second grade. She chooses words with care.”
“Carter.”
Lena glared, but her blush ruined the effect.
“Do not be smug in a hospital cafeteria.”
“I would never.”
“You are actively doing it.”
“By your mother telling you to marry me?”
“By your reaction to my mother telling me to marry you.”
She covered her face with one hand. “This family is dangerous.”
“Yes,” Carter said, smile softening. “But we have muffins.”
She peeked at him through her fingers.
He reached over and gently lowered her hand.
“I won’t make it weird,” he said.
“You already made it weird.”
“My mom made it weird. I’m innocent.”
“Debatable.”
Then his voice quieted.
“But for the record, I’m glad she likes you.”
Lena’s blush faded into something softer.
“Me too,” she said.
For the first time since the call after the game, Carter felt like he could breathe fully.
Lena was sitting across from him, tired and beautiful and still here.
Still choosing.
Still trying.
And Carter Hayes, who had spent years making sure nothing mattered enough to knock him down, realized the risk was already bigger than he’d planned.
After breakfast, they returned upstairs.
Michael was awake, propped up in bed, wearing a hospital gown now despite apparently losing that argument. He looked tired but very much himself, with graying hair sticking up on one side and the mildly offended expression of a man who had been denied real coffee.
Anne sat beside him.
When Carter stepped in with Lena behind him, his dad’s eyes went straight to their hands.
Carter suddenly wished they were.
Michael’s mouth twitched. “So this is the girl who saved you from vending machine dinner.”
Carter groaned. “Dad.”
Lena stepped forward, smiling politely. “Hi, Mr. Hayes. I’m Lena.”
“Michael,” he said. “Mr. Hayes is my father, and he would’ve hated this gown too.”
Loved it so much the thought scared him.
Anne looked between them with the barely contained joy of a mother who had decided a medical scare was also an acceptable time to gather relationship intel.
Michael pointed weakly at Carter. “You eat?”
“Hospital food.”
“So no.”
“Lena tried.”
Michael looked at Lena. “Good luck. He was once powered for an entire tournament weekend by blue sports drinks and vending machine pretzels.”
“Elite nutrition,” Carter said.
“Stupidity with electrolytes,” Michael corrected.
Lena smiled. “That sounds accurate.”
“Careful,” Carter said. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“I’m on the side of truth.”
Michael nodded approvingly. “I like her.”
“Everyone does, apparently,” Carter muttered.
Happy.
The conversation stayed light for a few minutes. Tests. Food. Hockey. Michael claimed he had watched Carter’s goal on a replay Anne found online and criticized his celebration as “too subtle.”
Then a nurse came in to check vitals, and Carter stepped back with Lena into the hallway.
She looked exhausted now. Really exhausted.
The adrenaline had worn off, leaving shadows under her eyes and a softness in her posture.
“You need sleep,” he said.
“So do you.”
“I can nap here.”
“You will not nap here.”
“You will pretend to nap while checking on everyone every four minutes.”
He opened his mouth.
Closed it.
She smiled faintly. “See? I’m learning you.”
This time, he did not hide it.
“You should go back,” he said. “Really. I’ll stay with my parents. I’ll text you updates.”
She hesitated.
He squeezed her hand. “I’m okay right now.”
“Your okay or my okay?”
“Yours,” he said.
“Promise you’ll text?”
“Yes.”
“And eat something better later?”
“And don’t pretend you’re fine if you’re not.”
That one landed.
He nodded. “I promise.”
Painful, inconvenient growth.
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he said.
They found her car in the hospital lot under pale morning light. The world looked different at that hour, washed out and quiet, like the night had taken all the sharp edges with it.
Lena unlocked the car but didn’t get in.
Carter stood beside her door.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
Then Lena reached up and touched the cut near his lip.
He wondered if she realized she did it when she was worried about him.
He hoped she never stopped.
“I’m glad he’s okay,” she said.
“Me too.”
“I’m glad you called me.”
He gave a small laugh. “I didn’t. You just took over.”
“True.”
“I’m glad you did.”
Not flirty.
Something deeper.
“You scared me last night,” she said.
“But not in the way I thought you would.”
He looked at her.
She swallowed. “I was scared because I cared.”
Carter could hear a car starting somewhere across the lot. A bird. The distant hum of the hospital entrance doors.
She didn’t.
His hands came to her waist.
“Lena,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said. “Too much before sleep.”
He shook his head. “No.”
More dangerous.
A kiss that belonged to morning light and fear survived and something neither of them was ready to name.
When they pulled apart, Carter kept his eyes closed for one more second.
“I care too,” he said.
Just standing between them in a hospital parking lot at sunrise.
Her smile was small and watery and beautiful.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He laughed softly. “That’s all I get?”
“And if you say anything too charming, I might cry.”
His smile softened.
“Then drive safe, Brooks.”
As she pulled away, Carter stood in the parking lot until her car turned out of sight.
Alive.
His mom was inside too, probably telling Michael that Carter had finally found a girl with sense.
And Lena was driving back to campus after staying through the worst night he’d had in years.
Carter: I care too. In case sleep deprivation tries to make that blurry later.
Lena: That one is allowed today.
He laughed softly under the pale hospital light.
Then he walked back inside, carrying fear in one hand, hope in the other, and Lena Brooks somewhere right in the center of him.