Chapter 24 — Carter
Carter
Carter Hayes had said I love you in an arena hallway with wet hair, a bruised cheek, and Mason Cross yelling about healthy love within hearing distance.
Which was, objectively, the least controlled environment possible.
No candles.
No quiet lake.
No carefully planned speech.
No private moment where Carter could make sure every word came out exactly right.
Just adrenaline, sweat, a hockey win, Lena’s tear-bright eyes, and the truth leaving his mouth before fear could tackle it.
And somehow, it had been perfect.
Now he stood outside the arena twenty minutes later with Lena’s hand in his, the cold night air hitting his damp hair, and the words still glowing inside him.
I love you.
She loved him.
Lena Brooks loved him.
Carter had scored two points, avoided a fight, helped beat Eastmore, and somehow none of that mattered as much as the girl beside him slipping her fingers between his like she planned to keep them there.
Paige walked a few feet ahead with Mason, though “walked” was generous for Mason, who was animatedly explaining something with both hands while Paige looked like she was deciding whether he was charming or needed supervision.
Tank followed behind them carrying three hockey bags because he had somehow gotten guilted into helping. Jonah walked beside him, expression dry. Logan moved several steps away from everybody, phone in hand, his face lit by the screen.
Carter glanced at him.
That was unsettling.
Logan noticing feelings was like a thunderstorm filling out paperwork.
Lena squeezed Carter’s hand.
He looked down at her.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing.”
“You have a face.”
“I’m just processing that Logan had an opinion on my emotional life.”
“He said one word.”
“Exactly. That’s huge for him.”
Lena smiled, and Carter’s chest tightened because now he could think it openly.
Loved.
The word settled into him like it had been waiting for a place to land.
“Are you okay?” Lena asked softly.
He stopped walking near the edge of the parking lot.
The group ahead continued, Mason saying, “I’m just saying, the phrase healthy love and also hockey has merch potential if approached respectfully—”
Paige said, “Do you have a death wish?”
“A creative vision.”
“Same thing.”
Carter barely heard them.
He turned toward Lena.
Maybe he would test it eventually, after consulting the schedule and avoiding Paige’s wrath.
His girl.
His Lena.
“I’m okay,” Carter said.
“Your okay or mine?”
He smiled.
“Mine.”
Her expression softened.
“Really?”
“Yeah.” He lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “Scary big. But mine.”
Her breath caught.
“I like that.”
“I love you,” he said, because apparently now that he had started, stopping felt ridiculous.
Like the words still surprised her.
Like she believed them and was still amazed they existed.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
Carter closed his eyes for half a second.
Still unreal.
Still real.
When he opened them, Mason was watching from ten feet away with both hands pressed over his mouth.
Carter’s head turned slowly.
“Mason.”
Mason dropped his hands. “I’m being silent in spirit.”
“You are breathing theatrically.”
“This is a huge moment.”
“It was a private moment.”
“In a parking lot beside six teammates.”
Lena laughed into Carter’s shoulder.
Carter pointed at Mason. “No shirts.”
Mason’s face fell. “I didn’t even—”
“No posts.”
“Okay, but—”
“No slogans.”
Mason sighed. “You’ve changed.”
“Yes.”
“I respect it.”
“Good.”
Paige grabbed Mason by the sleeve and pulled him toward the lot. “Come on, walking liability.”
Mason let himself be dragged. “I’m a muse trapped in a compliance department.”
Jonah muttered, “That’s the worst sentence I’ve ever heard.”
Tank nodded. “It was hard to listen to.”
Carter looked back at Lena.
Coach Harlan caught Carter before he could leave.
Of course he did.
Carter had just opened the passenger door for Lena when Coach’s voice carried across the parking lot.
“Hayes.”
Carter froze.
Lena slipped him a sympathetic smile. “Disappointment eyebrows?”
“Possibly worse.”
Coach approached with his hands in his coat pockets, face unreadable in the arena lights.
Carter straightened. “Coach.”
Lena stepped slightly back, but Coach nodded to her too.
“Brooks.”
“Coach.”
Coach looked at Carter.
Coach had every right to bring it up.
Carter braced.
Coach said, “Good game.”
Carter blinked.
“Thanks.”
“Good assist. Better empty-netter.”
“Thanks,” Carter repeated, slightly less suspiciously.
Coach’s gaze held his.
“Best play was the one you didn’t make.”
There it was.
Carter’s throat tightened.
Lena stood beside him, quiet.
Coach continued, “You wanted to go after him.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
Carter glanced at Lena.
Then back at Coach.
“Because that wasn’t why I was in the room.”
Coach’s expression shifted.
Not a smile.
Coach didn’t hand those out like candy.
But close.
“Good answer,” he said.
Carter exhaled.
Coach looked at Lena then. “He listened.”
Lena smiled softly. “I know.”
Carter’s chest warmed.
Coach pointed vaguely between them. “Whatever this is, keep making each other better. Not distracted. Better.”
“Yes, Coach,” Carter said.
Lena nodded. “Yes.”
Coach looked back at Carter. “And don’t be late to optional mandatory skate again.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
Coach started away, then stopped and glanced over his shoulder.
“And Hayes?”
“Yeah?”
Coach’s mouth twitched.
“No shirts.”
Coach walked away like he hadn’t just made a joke that would fundamentally disturb the team if they knew.
Carter turned to Lena. “That was a joke.”
“That was absolutely a joke.”
“I’m telling Mason.”
“Please don’t. It’ll encourage him.”
“Fair.”
Lena touched his bruised cheek lightly. “Does this hurt?”
“Only when beautiful women touch it.”
Her eyes narrowed.
He smiled. “Too much?”
“A little.”
“I’m new to having a girlfriend who loves me. My flirting may be unstable.”
Carter’s heart slammed.
“Sorry,” he said immediately. “I didn’t— I mean, I know we didn’t officially—”
“Carter.”
He stopped.
She looked up at him, cheeks pink, eyes soft.
“Girlfriend is okay.”
His entire body went warm.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Because I really liked saying it.”
Her smile widened.
“Boyfriend is okay too,” she said.
Carter stared at her.
This fit.
It fit so well it scared him.
“I love that,” he said.
Lena’s eyes shone again. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He leaned down, close enough that his lips brushed hers when he spoke. “Your boyfriend loves that.”
Boyfriend.
Love.
When he pulled back, Lena’s hand was curled in the front of his hoodie.
“I should take you home,” he said.
“You should.”
Neither moved.
He smiled. “We remain terrible at goodbyes.”
“We are consistent.”
“Proud of this development?”
Carter held her hand over the center console, his thumb moving slowly over her knuckles.
Every so often, Lena looked at him like she was checking whether he was real.
It made driving safely an unreasonable challenge.
At a red light, he glanced over. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“You keep looking at me.”
His heart did something embarrassing.
“Dangerous words.”
She smiled out the windshield. “Still true.”
He kept driving.
When they reached her dorm, he parked but did not turn off the engine immediately.
Lena looked at him.
He looked back.
The silence carried everything.
Finally, she said, “Tonight was big.”
She glanced down at their hands. “Are you scared?”
But she deserved the real one.
“Yes,” he said. “But not because I’m unsure.”
Her eyes lifted.
“Because I’m sure,” he said. “And that feels bigger.”
Her face softened in the dim light.
“I know what you mean.”
“I figured you would.”
Normal life.
Still happening around them.
Carter loved that too.
Messy and inconvenient and beautiful, right between hockey games and donor dinners and Paige’s snack requirements.
Lena looked toward the dorm, then back at him.
“Paige is probably waiting.”
Lena smiled.
Then it faded into something softer.
“Do you want to come up?”
Her face went pink immediately.
“Not like— I mean, Paige will be there, and it’s late, and you probably need to sleep after the game, but—”
“Lena.”
“I want to.”
Her shoulders eased.
“But I should probably go home.”
He reached for her other hand.
“Not because I don’t want to be with you,” he said. “I do. Too much, probably. But tonight was big, and I’m running on adrenaline, and you’re tired, and Paige would pretend to supervise while actually falling asleep with one eye open.”
Lena laughed.
“I want to do this right,” he said.
“And also Coach will kill me if I’m useless tomorrow.”
“That too.”
“That too,” he agreed.
She leaned closer. “Thank you.”
“For not coming up?”
Loved.
He loved that she saw the intention beneath the answer.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
“You’re obsessed.”
“With many things.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Things?”
He leaned closer. “You. Pancakes. Winning hockey games without assault charges. Your roommate’s approval.”
Lena’s hand moved to his jaw, careful around the bruise. Carter’s hand slid to the back of her neck, and the kiss deepened until every responsible thought in his head began backing quietly out of the room.
Barely.
“See?” he whispered. “This is why I should go home.”
Her breath was uneven. “Good point.”
Still dangerous.
Then he got out and walked her to the dorm entrance because no amount of emotional growth would stop him from doing that.
At the door, Lena turned.
“Goodnight, Carter.”
“Goodnight, Lena.”
He would never get used to it.
Maybe he didn’t want to.
“I love you too.”
Then his phone buzzed.
Paige: Heard you didn’t come up. Responsible. Annoyingly impressive. Adequate boyfriend behavior.
Carter stared at the message.
Then laughed so hard a girl entering the dorm gave him a strange look.
He typed back.
Carter: High praise. Thank you.
Paige: Don’t get cocky.
Carter: Wouldn’t dream of it.
Paige: Yes you would. Sleep.
Carter: Yes, ma’am.
Then Lena’s text came.
Lena: Paige says adequate boyfriend behavior.
Carter: She texted me directly. I have entered the inner circle.
Lena: Outer-middle circle. Maybe.
Carter: I’ll earn it.
Carter looked through the windshield at her dorm window, though he didn’t know which one was hers from here.
The one he had cleaned because someday he wanted Lena there.
Still his.
But waiting.
For Lena on the couch.
For Paige judging the snack supply.
For Mason being banned from every drawer.
For maybe, eventually, love becoming part of the ordinary furniture of his life.
Mason: Are we allowed to celebrate healthy love privately with no merchandise?
Carter smiled.
Carter: Yes. Privately. No merchandise.
Mason: Can I say proud?
Carter’s throat tightened unexpectedly.
Carter: Yeah. You can say proud.
Then:
Mason: Proud of you, man. Not just for Lena. For the game. For not punching Decker. For being annoyingly grown now.
Carter sat down slowly on the couch.
Mason, idiot that he was, had somehow found the exact words.
Carter typed back.
Carter: Thanks. That means a lot.
Mason: Gross. Emotional. Going to bed.
He replied:
Carter: Thanks. You too. Also “finally” was rude.
Mom: Your father has told three people you played disciplined hockey and gave a good speech at the donor dinner. He is pretending this is not bragging.
Carter’s chest warmed.
Carter: Tell him subtle.
Mom: He says subtlety is for people without talented children.
Carter blinked against the sudden sting in his eyes.
Carter: Tell him thanks. And please make sure he follows instructions.
Mom: Always. And Carter? I am proud of you.
Carter set the phone down on his chest and looked at the ceiling.
From his mom.
Maybe from his dad in his own ridiculous way.
For once, Carter did not dodge it.
Let it ache.
Let it feel like something he might one day believe without flinching.
Then he picked up the phone and texted Lena.
Carter: Everyone is being emotional tonight. Mason said proud. Logan said two whole words. My mom said proud. I may need medical assistance.
Her reply came a minute later.
Lena: Breathe through it. Hydrate. Accept praise.
Carter: Accept praise? Radical.
Lena: Doctor’s orders.
Carter: Are you my doctor now?
Lena: No. Your girlfriend. Much more dangerous.
Carter grinned at the ceiling.
Carter: I love when you say that.
Lena: Girlfriend?
Carter: Yes. Also dangerous. Also anything, honestly.
Lena: You are tired and emotionally compromised.
Carter: Completely. Still love you.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Lena: Still love you too.
Carter closed his eyes.
He set the phone on the coffee table and leaned back into the couch.
He had told Lena he loved her and heard her say it back.
Stay.
Try.
Carter looked around his quiet apartment.
Not flawless.
But ready to keep becoming.
And for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, Carter Hayes did not want to be the guy everybody watched.
The guy who loved Lena Brooks loudly enough to be true and carefully enough to be trusted.
He smiled in the dark.
Tomorrow, there would be pancakes.
Probably Mason nonsense.
Definitely Paige judgment.
More hockey.
More school.
More life.
But tonight, there was love.
Scary big.
Still in.
And Carter, finally, believed he could hold it.