Chapter 18 — Carter #2
“Condition two. Any photo is about the fundraiser. Professional. No weird couple framing.”
“Condition three. Mason is not allowed anywhere near the event with apparel.”
Carter put a hand over his heart. “Already banned in spirit.”
“Ban him in writing.”
“I’ll try.”
“Carter.”
“Condition four. We prepare remarks together so neither of us rambles.”
“I don’t ramble.”
She looked at him.
“I emotionally expand,” he corrected.
“Exactly.”
He grinned.
She wrote something down. “Condition five.”
“There’s five?”
“There may be seven.”
“I respect you so much.”
Her mouth twitched. “Condition five. If either one of us gets overwhelmed, we say so. No pretending we’re fine.”
She looked at him over the notebook. “Your okay or mine applies.”
He nodded. “You can have mine sometimes. You said so.”
She looked at his hand for one second, then placed hers in it.
“Then yes,” he said. “I’ll do it if you want to do it.”
“I do.”
“Then we do it.”
Together at donor dinners, apparently, because life had a terrible sense of escalation.
Lena’s thumb moved against his hand.
“What about you?” she asked.
“Me?”
“Do you want to do it?”
That stopped him.
Not because nobody asked what he wanted.
But because he had gotten so focused on not pressuring Lena that he had not fully asked himself.
Did he want to stand next to Lena while doing something meaningful, not because they were performing but because they had both earned the right to be there?
Yes.
More than he expected.
“I’m nervous,” he said.
Her hand tightened around his.
“But yeah. I want to do it.”
“Yeah.” He looked down at their hands. “I think maybe I want people to see me doing something that matters for once.”
Lena’s face softened so much it almost hurt to look at.
“Carter.”
“Not like applause,” he said quickly. “Not like I need them to clap.”
“Just…” He exhaled. “I don’t want to keep being surprised when people think I’m unserious if all I ever show them is unserious.”
Proud, maybe.
He was dangerously addicted to that look.
“That sounds like becoming,” she said.
He had told her what his dad said.
Become that man anyway.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Maybe it is.”
She smiled.
Then, because Lena Brooks was Lena Brooks, she opened her planner and said, “Okay. We need to draft remarks.”
Carter groaned. “Right now?”
“Yes.”
“I just became emotionally profound.”
“And now you can become useful.”
“That transition was abrupt.”
Carter added a line about kids not remembering every dollar raised, but remembering that a room full of adults decided their fight mattered.
Lena stopped writing.
He looked up. “Too much?”
“No,” she said softly. “That’s perfect.”
Praise hit him square in the chest.
He looked down. “Thanks.”
“No deflection.”
“I said thanks.”
“You looked like you wanted to crawl under the table.”
“I can do both.”
Mason: Rumor says St. Mary’s wants you and Lena at fancy donor thing. Do you need me as security, hype man, or silent apparel consultant?
Carter stared.
“How,” he said, “does he know everything?”
Lena glanced over. “Mason?”
“Unfortunately.”
“What did he say?”
Lena read it, then calmly took his phone.
Mason: This is Lena. You are banned from apparel consulting permanently. Security unnecessary. Silence encouraged.
Mason: Understood. Honored to receive direct communication. Will be silent in spirit.
Carter laughed.
Lena shook her head. “He’s impossible.”
“He grows on you.”
“Like mold.”
“Emotionally supportive mold.”
“Do not defend him.”
He did not take it back.
Not this time.
“He is,” Lena said quietly. “Unfortunately.”
After they finished the rough remarks, Lena leaned back in her chair and stretched her hands over her head.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Her mouth curved. “Carter.”
Full of students, laptops, and a barista who did not deserve to witness Carter’s internal collapse.
He cleared his throat and looked back at the notebook.
“Remarks,” he said.
Lena’s smile widened. “Scared?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He did too, probably.
Even if his heart was ignoring the schedule.
When they left the coffee shop, Carter walked her toward the student center. Their shoulders brushed. Their hands touched once, twice, then linked.
Near the fountain, a couple of hockey players from the junior team crossed the path and waved at Carter. One of them glanced at Lena and grinned, but no one said anything.
They reached the student center steps.
“I have a meeting with Denise,” she said.
“To tell her about the dinner?”
“Probably. She may already know.”
“Everyone knows everything before we do.”
“That does seem to be a Ridgeview issue.”
He smiled. “Text me after?”
“I will.”
“And if Denise adds seventeen conditions?”
“I’ll send a spreadsheet.”
“I absolutely will.”
He laughed, then stepped closer.
“Can I kiss you goodbye?”
Hers.
When he pulled back, she stayed close for one more second.
“I’m proud of you,” she whispered.
Always.
When he opened them, she was looking at him like she knew exactly what she had done.
“You’re trying to kill me,” he said.
“No.”
“No?”
“I’m trying to tell you the truth.”
His chest ached.
“Worse,” he said.
She smiled.
Then she slipped away and went inside, leaving Carter standing on the steps with his heart rearranged and a donor dinner waiting in his future.
His phone buzzed before he made it back to the arena.
Lena: Also, I like “our idiot.” Unfortunately accurate.
Carter: Careful. Mason will put it on a shirt.
Carter: Proud of you too, by the way. For choosing the dinner even though it scares you.
He slid his phone into his pocket and walked toward the rink.
Photo.
Remarks.
Lena beside him.
Not always.
Sometimes fear just meant something mattered.
Sometimes it meant take the next step.
Sometimes it meant stand beside the girl with the planner and the careful heart and let the world see you doing something real.
Carter pushed open the arena doors, smiling despite himself.
He could do real.
He was starting to think he wanted nothing else.