Chapter 20 — Carter
Carter
Carter Hayes had faced penalty kills with less pressure than the donor dinner.
Which was absurd.
No one at St. Mary’s was going to slam him into the boards.
Probably.
There would be no opposing winger chirping at him from three inches away, no referee ignoring obvious holding, no puck flying toward his face at eighty miles an hour.
Just donors.
Hospital administrators.
Athletic department people.
Denise Vargas.
Coach Harlan.
Lena Brooks in a dress.
He stood in front of the mirror in his childhood bedroom Friday evening, adjusting his tie for the fifth time and hating every version of it.
His father appeared in the doorway behind him.
Michael Hayes wore dark slacks, a button-down shirt, and the expression of a man deeply offended that his wife had told him not to overdo it.
“You look nervous,” he said.
Carter looked at him in the mirror. “You look like you escaped supervision.”
“I walked down a hallway.”
“Does Mom know?”
“Your mother knows everything.”
“That wasn’t an answer.”
Michael came into the room and leaned one shoulder against the wall. His color was better now. Not perfect. Not enough for Carter to stop watching him too closely. But better.
That did not mean Carter’s brain had stopped inventing worst-case scenarios.
Most of the time.
His dad nodded toward the tie. “You’re strangling yourself.”
“Feels appropriate.”
“For charity?”
“For speeches.”
Michael stepped forward. “Here.”
Carter dropped his hands and let his father fix the tie.
Carter was not prepared for it to hit him so hard.
Michael’s hands moved slower than usual, a little more careful, but they were steady. Carter looked down at the graying hair at his father’s temples, the lines around his eyes, the stubborn set of his mouth.
Still making jokes about soup and trying to earn back coffee privileges.
Carter swallowed.
Michael glanced up. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re thinking emotionally.”
“Wonder where I get that.”
“Your mother.”
Carter huffed a laugh.
Michael straightened the knot and patted it once. “There. Respectable.”
“Terrifying.”
“Same thing sometimes.”
Carter looked in the mirror again.
He did not necessarily look like he belonged at a donor dinner, but he no longer looked like the tie was winning a fight.
Michael nodded.
Then he stayed there, watching him.
Carter sighed. “What?”
“You’re different.”
The words landed quietly.
Carter looked away from the mirror. “Dad.”
“I don’t mean because of the tie.”
Michael sat carefully on the edge of the bed, and Carter pretended not to notice the careful part.
“You’re still you,” his dad said. “Don’t panic.”
“That was exactly where I was headed.”
“But you’re… steadier.”
Carter leaned back against the dresser. “I don’t feel steady.”
“Steady doesn’t mean fearless.”
“Everyone keeps saying things like that. Do adults attend a seminar?”
“Yes. There are pamphlets.”
Carter smiled.
Michael’s face softened. “Lena coming here?”
“I’m picking her up from the dorm.”
“You?”
Michael gave him a look. “I’m not missing this.”
“You’re supposed to take it easy.”
“I will sit in a chair and clap. Very gently.”
“I want to see you speak.” His voice lowered. “I want to see who you’re becoming.”
Extremely unfair.
“You can’t just say things like that before a speech.”
“I’m your father. Emotional sabotage is included.”
Lena: Status update: Paige is making me turn in a circle like I’m being inspected for battle.
Michael noticed.
Of course he did.
“Lena?”
Carter: Tell Paige I respect the process and fear the outcome.
Carter looked at the mirror, the tie, his father sitting on his bed.
Lena: Yes. But I know why I’m in the room.
True.
He slid the phone into his pocket and looked up to find his father smiling.
Carter pointed at him. “No.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to.”
Michael stood with a small grunt he failed to hide.
Carter tensed.
His dad gave him a look. “I’m okay.”
“Your okay or mine?”
Michael blinked. “I’m going to assume that’s a Lena thing.”
A little.
Michael squeezed his shoulder as he passed. “Go get your girl.”
He had parked outside her dorm and stepped out of the SUV just as she came through the front doors with Paige behind her.
Her hair was down in loose waves, one side pinned back. She wore small earrings that caught the light when she moved. She carried a black coat over one arm and looked nervous in the way Lena looked nervous when she was trying very hard not to look nervous.
Every note.
Possibly his own name.
Lena slowed as she approached. “Hi.”
Carter opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Paige crossed her arms. “He’s buffering.”
Lena’s cheeks turned pink.
Carter blinked himself back to life. “Sorry.”
“Are you okay?” Lena asked.
Her eyes widened slightly.
“I mean yes,” he said quickly. “I mean you look…” He exhaled. “Lena.”
Her face softened.
Paige looked between them, then sighed. “That was unfortunately acceptable.”
Carter barely heard her.
He stepped closer to Lena, careful not to crowd her, though every part of him wanted to reach for her.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
Her blush deepened. “Thank you.”
“Really beautiful.”
“Carter.”
“Stopping now.”
“Don’t,” she said softly.
His heart kicked.
Paige made a noise. “Okay. I’m here. Still here. Just reminding everyone.”
Lena laughed, and the sound broke the spell enough for Carter to breathe.
He looked at Paige. “You look nice too.”
Paige narrowed her eyes. “Good recovery.”
“I brought your requested candy for after,” he said. “It’s in the car.”
Her suspicion faltered. “Sour?”
“Two kinds.”
“Hmm.” She nodded. “You may proceed.”
“Appreciated.”
Paige turned to Lena and softened. “You’ll do great.”
Lena nodded. “Thanks.”
Then Paige looked at Carter. “Drive safely. Keep her fed. Do not let old men monopolize her with boring donor stories.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And no weird photo poses.”
“Already a condition.”
Paige stepped back toward the dorm entrance, but before she went inside, she looked at him again.
Less teasing now.
More serious.
“Take care of her.”
Carter met her gaze. “I will.”
Paige studied him for a second, then nodded once and disappeared into the dorm.
Lena watched her go, smiling faintly. “She likes you.”
“She terrifies me.”
“She can do both.”
“She does.”
Carter opened the passenger door for Lena.
She paused before getting in and looked up at him.
“What?” he asked.
“You look very handsome.”
That should not have hit as hard as it did.
It was a normal compliment.
People had called Carter handsome before.
Plenty.
Too often, maybe.
But Lena said it like she saw him.
This version.
The nervous one in the tie his father had fixed.
“Dangerous words,” he said quietly.
Her smile softened. “Still true.”
He got in.
For the first few minutes, they did not talk much. The car hummed softly around them. Lena held her printed remarks in her lap even though they both had copies waiting at the venue. Carter kept both hands on the wheel because reaching for her might make him miss a turn or forget traffic laws.
Finally, Lena said, “Your tie looks nice.”
“My dad fixed it.”
“He told me emotional sabotage is included in fatherhood.”
Carter smiled.
At a red light, he looked over. Lena was smoothing the edge of the paper with one finger.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Your okay or mine?”
She looked at him.
Then smiled a little. “Mine.”
“Really?”
He considered lying, but only for half a second.
“Maybe yours,” he admitted.
The donor dinner was exactly what Carter had feared.
He took a picture and sent it to Paige.
Carter: Linen napkins confirmed. Please advise level of seriousness.
Paige: DEFCON Romance. Don’t mess up.
Carter stared.
Lena leaned closer. “What?”
He showed her.
She closed her eyes. “I should not have told her about the napkin metric.”
“You absolutely should have.”
Denise found them near the registration table before Carter could spiral further. She wore a black blazer, a sleek dress, and the expression of someone who could organize a room into obedience with one glance.
“You both look excellent,” she said.
Lena straightened. “Thank you.”
Carter nodded. “Thanks.”
Denise handed them each a small program. “Remarks after the salad course. Three to four minutes each, no longer. St. Mary’s president will introduce you. Photo afterward near the step-and-repeat.”
Her expression did not change, but something approving flickered in her eyes.
“Remember,” Denise said, looking between them. “You earned your place here. Do not rush. Speak clearly. And ignore anyone who wants to turn meaningful work into social noise.”
Lena’s eyes softened. “Thank you.”
They were seated at a table near the front with Coach Harlan, Carter’s parents, Denise, and two hospital board members.
Anne looked proud enough to embarrass Carter for the rest of his life.
Coach looked like Coach, which was to say stern and somehow vaguely amused.
When Lena approached the table, Carter’s mother stood and hugged her.
“You look beautiful,” Anne said.
“Thank you,” Lena replied, blushing.
Michael lifted one hand from his chair. “Green was the right choice.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Did you coordinate with Paige?”
Michael looked at Anne. “We are being investigated.”
Anne sat, smiling. “I simply said green suited you.”
Carter leaned toward Lena. “There are alliances.”
“I knew it.”
Michael pointed at Carter. “You look respectable.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I’m as surprised as anyone.”
Lena laughed as she sat beside Carter, and his father looked deeply pleased with himself.
He smiled.
He answered questions about hockey, the fundraiser, St. Mary’s, and whether Mason Cross was “the glitter one,” which unfortunately meant Mason’s legacy was spreading.