Chapter 19 — Lena
Lena
Lena Brooks had agreed to the donor dinner because it mattered.
That was the official reason.
The mature reason.
The reason she would give Denise, Paige, and any small, judgmental voice in her head that tried to ask why she had voluntarily stepped into a formal public event beside Carter Hayes when campus gossip had already proven it had the nutritional value of expired vending machine chips.
The fundraiser mattered.
St. Mary’s mattered.
The children’s wing mattered.
The donors mattered.
The fact that Carter would be standing beside her in a dress shirt, saying thoughtful things while looking at her like she was part of the reason he wanted to become better?
It mattered unofficially so much that Lena had reread their drafted remarks four times after leaving the coffee shop, and every time she reached the line Carter had added, her chest did something inconvenient.
They may not remember every dollar raised, but they’ll remember that a room full of adults decided their fight mattered.
That line was Carter.
The Carter who noticed scared kids and tired parents.
The Carter Lena was trying very hard not to fall for too fast.
She sat across from Denise Vargas in the athletic department office with her planner open, the draft remarks printed in front of her, and her pen aligned perfectly with the edge of the page.
Denise read through the outline with an expression so focused it made Lena sit up straighter without meaning to.
Finally, Denise looked up.
“This is strong.”
Relief loosened Lena’s shoulders. “Good.”
“Very strong.” Denise tapped the second page. “This line about the kids remembering that adults decided their fight mattered. That was Carter?”
Lena nodded.
Denise smiled faintly. “Of course it was.”
Lena blinked. “Of course?”
“He surprised several people at the fundraiser.” Denise leaned back. “Not me, exactly. But several people.”
Lena hesitated. “You expected him to be good?”
“I expected him to be capable.” Denise’s gaze sharpened kindly. “There’s a difference.”
Capable was what he became when something mattered enough to stop performing.
“Do you think the dinner is a good idea?” Lena asked before she could stop herself.
Denise studied her. “Professionally or personally?”
Lena’s face warmed. “Professionally.”
“Professionally, yes. St. Mary’s appreciated the student involvement. Donors like to see the direct impact of their support. You and Carter represent the event well.”
Lena nodded.
Denise waited.
Lena sighed. “And personally?”
Denise’s expression softened, but only slightly. Denise Vargas was not a woman who handed out softness carelessly.
“Personally,” she said, “I think you are deciding whether being visible is worth the discomfort.”
That was annoyingly accurate.
“I don’t like being talked about,” Lena admitted.
“No one thoughtful does.”
That almost made Lena smile.
Denise continued, “But you are going to be talked about in life. For your work. Your choices. Your relationships. Your mistakes. Your successes. The goal isn’t to avoid every room where someone might form an opinion.”
Lena swallowed.
“What is the goal?”
“To know why you’re in the room.”
Not to prove campus gossip wrong.
Those things might be there, hovering at the edges, but they could not be the reason.
“I can do that,” Lena said softly.
Denise smiled. “I know.”
“I watched you run an event while hockey players used glitter as a beverage supplement and a dunk tank appeared without authorization.”
“That is true.”
“You handled Mason Cross with more grace than I would have.”
“That is also true.”
Denise’s mouth twitched. “You can handle a donor dinner.”
Lena let out a breath that almost became a laugh.
“Thank you.”
“And Lena?”
Denise folded the remarks and slid them back across the desk. “You don’t have to make yourself smaller because people are curious.”
“Good.” Denise’s professional tone returned. “Now, about the photo.”
Lena groaned before she could stop herself.
Denise smiled. “There she is.”
Paige handled the donor dinner news exactly as expected.
By overreacting.
“A formal dinner?” she said, standing in the middle of their dorm room with a towel wrapped around her hair and one sock on. “With donors? And speeches? And possibly a photo?”
“Yes.”
“With Carter?”
Lena looked up from her laptop. “That is generally implied by formal.”
Paige pressed both hands to her chest. “This is major.”
“It’s a donor appreciation dinner.”
“It’s a soft-launch couple event with tax-deductible undertones.”
“It is not.”
“It absolutely is.”
“Paige.”
“Will there be linen napkins?”
“I don’t know.”
“If there are linen napkins, it’s serious.”
“That is not how seriousness works.”
“It’s one of the metrics.”
Lena sighed and tried to return to her email, but Paige dropped onto the edge of her bed with sudden focus.
“What are you wearing?”
“I don’t know yet.”
Paige gasped. “You haven’t planned?”
“It’s next Friday.”
“That is basically tomorrow in outfit time.”
“Not donor dinner with emotionally improving hockey boy clothes.”
Lena turned slowly. “That phrase is never allowed again.”
Paige ignored her. “We need options.”
“Yes, we do.” Paige stood and crossed to Lena’s closet. “Are we aiming polished coordinator, devastating girlfriend, or ‘I accidentally made every donor adopt a hockey program’?”
“Correct answer.”
Paige started flipping through hangers. “Professional can still be devastating.”
“I do not want to devastate donors.”
“No, just Carter.”
Lena’s face warmed.
Paige pointed at her without looking away from the closet. “Exactly.”
Her expression shifted instantly.
“Oh,” Paige said. “Sorry. Casual roommate love. Not… you know.”
The word had been getting louder in her head lately, sneaking into places where it did not belong. Carter remembering snacks. Carter asking for words. Carter telling her he was serious. Carter at their table, saying he wanted people to see him doing something that mattered.
Paige sat beside her.
“You okay?”
Lena nodded. “Yes.”
“Your okay or his?”
“My okay.”
Paige smiled faintly. “That’s good.”
“I’m just…” Lena stared at her hands. “Things feel big.”
“I thought you were supposed to tell me I’m overthinking.”
“You are overthinking,” Paige said. “But things can be big and you can still overthink them.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I’m not here to lie.”
Lena huffed a small laugh.
Paige nudged her shoulder. “Do you want my honest opinion?”
“Rude. Here it is anyway.” Paige softened. “You’re not scared because Carter is wrong. You’re scared because he might be right.”
Lena looked at her.
“Right for you,” Paige said.
Lena’s throat tightened.
Paige shrugged, like she had not just thrown a grenade into Lena’s emotional stability. “Also because he’s hot and has friends with terrible impulse control, but mostly the first thing.”
Lena laughed despite herself.
“Thank you for that analysis.”
“I contain multitudes.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“It’s a good phrase.” Paige stood again. “Now. Dress.”
Lena groaned.
But she let Paige pull three options from the closet.
One soft green dress Lena had bought for a presentation and never worn because it made her feel more noticeable than she liked.
Paige held up the green one.
“Oh.”
“No,” Lena said immediately.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“This is the one.”
“It’s too much.”
“It is exactly enough.”
“It’s a donor dinner.”
“It has sleeves.”
“That is not the only metric.”
“It’s professional, flattering, and Carter will forget how language works.”
Lena’s face went hot.
Paige grinned. “Sold.”
“I have not agreed.”
“You blushed. That’s agreement.”
“Maybe,” she said.
Paige smiled slowly.
“Maybe,” she repeated, “means yes in Lena.”
Lena held the dress against herself and looked in the mirror.
Lena was in bed with her laptop open, pretending to review notes and actually staring at the donor dinner draft.
She answered on the second ring.
“Hi.”
“Hi,” Carter said. “Bad time?”
“No. I’m just looking over the remarks.”
“At nine at night?”
“I like being prepared.”
“I know. It’s one of your alarming qualities.”
“Alarming?”
“Admirable,” he corrected quickly.
Lena settled back against her pillows.
Across the room, Paige put in earbuds with exaggerated innocence.
“How was your dad tonight?” Lena asked.
“Good. He and Mom argued for twenty minutes about whether he can attend the donor dinner.”
Lena blinked. “He wants to come?”
“He says if his son is speaking in public and there may be proof he became respectable, he needs to witness it.”
Lena laughed.
Carter’s voice warmed. “He also asked if you’re wearing green.”
Her smile froze. “What?”
“I don’t know. My mom said something about green being your color, which means they’re now discussing you independently, and I apologize.”
Lena looked at the green dress hanging on her closet door.
Suspicious.
Very suspicious.
“Did Paige text your mother?” Lena asked.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“No, wait. Are there inter-household alliances now?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.”
Carter laughed again.
The sound settled into her chest with embarrassing ease.
Then his voice softened. “How are you feeling about the dinner?”
Lena looked at the printed remarks on her blanket.
“But clearer.”
“Clearer?”
“I talked to Denise.”
“Both. She said the goal isn’t to avoid every room where people might form an opinion. The goal is to know why you’re in the room.”
Carter went quiet.
Lena waited.
Finally, he said, “I like Denise.”
“She’s very hard not to respect.”
“Yeah.” A pause. “Do you know why you’re in the room?”
Lena traced the edge of the paper.
“For St. Mary’s,” she said. “For the fundraiser. For the kids. For the work.”
“Yes.”
“And…” He hesitated.
Lena’s heart picked up. “And?”
“And maybe a little because you’re brave.”
Her throat tightened.
“Carter.”
He kept doing that.
Saying things that found the exact soft place she had not protected well enough.
“I don’t always feel brave,” she whispered.
“I’m a hockey player. People confuse recklessness with courage.”
Lena smiled faintly. “Is that your donor dinner quote?”
“Please don’t write that down.”
Intimate in a way phone calls had become too quickly.
Lena could hear faint sounds on his end. A door closing. Maybe water running. The creak of a bed.
“Are you in your room?” she asked.
“My childhood room. Still emotionally haunted by eighth-grade hair.”
“I still want to see it.”
“Alive coward.”
She smiled.
Then Carter said, “Can I ask you something?”
“You don’t have to answer if it makes you uncomfortable.”
That did not make her less nervous.
“Carter.”
“Right. Sorry.” He exhaled. “Does the dinner feel like too much because of me?”
She could say it was all about the donors and the photo and the attention.
But that would not be the full truth.
“A little,” she admitted.
He was quiet.
“I don’t mean that badly,” she said quickly.
“It’s just…” She searched for the right words. “Standing beside you means something now. Even if we don’t say exactly what. Even if we’re careful. People will see it.”
“And I’m not ashamed of that.” Her voice shook slightly. “I’m not.”
“But being seen caring about you feels… vulnerable.”
Just exposed.
Carter’s voice was soft when he answered.
“It feels vulnerable for me too.”
“You’re used to people looking.”
She swallowed.
He continued, “I’m used to people looking at the version of me I hand them. This is different.”
“Because it’s real?”
Another quiet pause.
“Yeah,” he said. “Because it’s real.”
There it was.
The word beneath all the almost-words.
“I’m scared,” she said.
“Me too.”
“But I still want to do it.”
Always trying.
Carter cleared his throat softly. “Also, just so you know, if a photo happens, I will not do anything weird.”
“Define weird.”
“No dramatic prom poses.”
“No Mason appearing in the background with thumbs up.”
“Critical.”
“No holding a Team Clipboard sign.”
“Carter.”
He sounded pleased, which made her smile into the darkness.
“Professional photo,” he said. “Fundraiser representatives. Respectful distance.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Okay?”
“Yes. Professional photo if needed.”
“Noted.”
“And Carter?”
“Respectful distance does not have to last all night.”
Then Carter made a sound like he had forgotten how to breathe.
Lena pressed her lips together to keep from smiling.
“Brooks,” he said finally, voice lower now.
“I’m aware.”
“You can’t say things like that when I’m in another house.”
“You asked about the photo.”
“I did not ask to be emotionally attacked.”
“It was a clarification.”
“It was a threat.”
She laughed softly.
His voice warmed. “I like this version of you.”
“The one who says what she wants and then pretends it’s logistics.”
Her face warmed.
“I do not do that.”
“You absolutely do.”
“Maybe I’m learning from you.”
“Then I owe society an apology.”
Lena’s room was dim except for the lamp beside her bed. Paige’s earbuds leaked faint music across the room. Outside, students passed beneath the window, their voices rising and falling.
Lena held the phone closer.
“I like talking to you,” she said.
Still big.
Carter’s reply came just as quiet.
“I like talking to you too.”
“Even when it’s hard?”
“Because that’s when I know you’re letting me in.”
She turned onto her side, facing the wall, like that might help contain whatever was happening inside her.
It did not.
“You keep saying things,” she whispered.
“Good things or bad things?”
“Good.”
“Then I’ll keep saying them.”
“Carter.”
“Lena.”
And maybe, somewhere not far off, a word she was not ready to speak but could feel waiting.
“Goodnight, Carter,” she said before her heart could get ahead of her mouth.
His silence held for a beat, like maybe he heard everything she did not say.
Then, softly, “Goodnight, Lena.”
Paige sighed dramatically. “I’m going to need new categories.”