Chapter 25 — Lena
Lena
Lena Brooks woke up the morning after Carter Hayes told her he loved her and spent exactly four minutes staring at the ceiling.
Four minutes was reasonable.
Four minutes allowed for emotional processing, basic respiration, and a silent review of the previous night’s events.
Carter not punching Decker.
Carter scoring.
Carter hearing her somehow over an arena full of noise.
Carter saying, I’m already there.
Carter saying, I love you.
Carter calling himself her boyfriend.
Carter being responsible enough not to come upstairs even though she had asked.
Carter texting her goodnight and still love you too sitting on her phone like a small, glowing miracle.
Four minutes was not enough time to fully process all of that.
But Lena had a class at ten, a donor follow-up email to send, and a life that rudely continued despite major romantic developments.
Paige was already awake across the room, sitting upright in bed with her phone in one hand and a bag of sour candy in the other.
At eight in the morning.
Lena blinked. “Are you eating candy for breakfast?”
Paige looked at the bag. “This is not about me.”
“It seems partly about you.”
“You said love last night.”
Lena froze.
Paige pointed one sour straw at her. “We are not skipping that.”
Lena looked toward the window, where pale morning light slipped through the blinds.
“You know you said it or you know we’re not skipping it?”
“Both.”
Paige’s face softened immediately, the teasing dropping away like she had set it down on purpose.
“How do you feel?”
Like a door had opened inside her and sunlight was coming through, but she was still blinking because she had gotten used to dimmer rooms.
“I feel…” She searched for the right word. “Steady.”
Paige’s eyebrows lifted.
“That’s not what I expected.”
“Me either.”
“You’re not spiraling?”
“A little. But quieter.”
Paige smiled. “Your brain is learning.”
“Slowly.”
“Proud of this development.”
Lena groaned and dropped her face into her hands. “Not you too.”
“It’s a cultural phrase now.”
“It is not.”
“It is in this dorm.”
Lena peeked through her fingers. “Please don’t put it on anything.”
“I’m not Mason.”
Paige tossed a sour straw into her mouth. “So. You love him.”
But not in a panicked way.
In a true way.
“Yes,” she said softly. “I love him.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I am emotionally hydrated.”
Lena laughed, and Paige laughed too, and then somehow they were both sitting on Lena’s bed, eating sour candy and talking about the fact that love had arrived in a hockey hallway after a near-fight and a goal.
Which, honestly, made sense for them.
“It wasn’t how I imagined saying it,” Lena admitted.
“How did you imagine it?”
Paige gave her a look.
“I didn’t,” Lena insisted. “I was trying not to get that far.”
“And then you got there anyway.”
“That’s usually how feelings work. Rude little things.”
Carter.
Paige whispered, “Speak of the emotionally adequate boyfriend.”
Lena grabbed the phone before Paige could read over her shoulder.
Carter: Morning, girlfriend. Still love you. Also Mason texted me a sunrise emoji and I don’t know if that’s support or a threat.
Lena pressed the phone to her chest.
Paige saw her face and made a gagging sound.
“Sorry,” Lena said, smiling. “I’m happy.”
Lena: Morning, boyfriend. Still love you too. The sunrise emoji is probably emotional weather. Proceed carefully.
Carter: Boyfriend still hits hard. In a good way.
Carter: Good. Any chance I can see you before class? I have coffee and a strong emotional need to look at you in daylight after last night. Low pressure.
Lena smiled so hard her cheeks hurt.
Paige leaned over. “That better be him asking to bring coffee.”
Carter: I love you. Not because I forgot to say it. Just because I can now.
Carter stood in the dorm lobby fifteen minutes later with two coffees, damp hair, and the same black hoodie from last night.
Better.
Both.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi.”
For one second, they just stood there, smiling like people who had no idea what to do with all the words they were now allowed to say.
Then Carter held out her coffee. “Correct order.”
She took it. “Consistent boyfriend behavior.”
He looked down at her, his smile softening.
“Can I kiss you good morning in a lobby full of people pretending not to watch?” he asked.
Lena smiled.
“Yes.”
Carter leaned down and kissed her.
Still enough to make every nerve in her body wake up and throw a parade.
When he pulled back, his forehead almost touched hers.
“Good morning,” he said, lower now.
Someone near the mailboxes whispered, “That’s Carter Hayes.”
Lena took his free hand before he could decide whether to step back.
Still in.
They moved toward the little seating area near the lobby windows. Carter sat beside her on the worn couch, close enough that their knees touched, careful enough that she could breathe.
“How are you?” she asked.
“My okay,” he said. “Tired. Happy. Weirdly calm.”
He looked relieved.
“I thought maybe you’d wake up and panic,” he admitted.
“I thought maybe you would.”
“I did panic briefly when Mason sent a sunrise emoji.”
“Understandable.”
“But not about us.”
Lena looked down at their hands.
Us felt like a place to stand.
Carter rubbed his thumb over her knuckles. “What are you thinking?”
“That this feels different.”
“Different how?”
“Less like falling off a cliff.”
His mouth curved. “Good?”
“Good.” She leaned her shoulder against his. “More like landing somewhere.”
The lobby moved around them. Students came and went. Someone laughed by the elevator. Paige walked through wearing sunglasses and carrying a notebook, saw them on the couch, pointed two fingers at her eyes and then at Carter, and kept walking without breaking stride.
Carter watched her go. “Was that a threat?”
Carter looked at her then, and there it was again.
The look that made everything in her quiet and loud at the same time.
“I love you,” he said softly.
Just truth.
Lena’s throat tightened, but the words came easier now.
“I love you too.”
He closed his eyes briefly, like he was storing it somewhere.
Then he opened them and smiled. “I’m never getting tired of hearing that.”
He glanced at the clock above the front desk. “You have class soon.”
“I know.”
“I should let you go.”
“You should.”
Neither moved.
Carter grinned. “We remain terrible at goodbyes.”
He froze.
Then looked at her like she had done something astonishing.
“What?” she asked.
“You kissed me first.”
“I’ve done that before.”
“Still notable.”
“I’ll make a chart.”
“Please do. I want documentation.”
She shook her head, smiling as she stood. “I have to go.”
He stood too, immediately.
“Dinner tonight?” he asked.
“With Paige?”
His expression turned adorably cautious. “If Paige approves.”
“Paige will approve if there are snacks.”
“I know the system.”
“Good.”
He walked her to the lobby doors.
At the threshold, Lena turned back.
“I’m proud of you,” she said.
Not deflecting.
Still affected, always, but less startled.
“Thank you,” he said.
It was in Carter bringing coffee before her early class.
It was in Lena texting him reminders to eat before practice.
It was in Paige adding Carter’s preferred chips to their grocery list with the note adequate boyfriend snack.
It was in Mason dramatically whispering “healthy love” once in the student center and then immediately apologizing when Lena looked at him.
It was in Carter’s dad sending a photo of himself following doctor’s instructions with the caption proof of obedience, and Anne adding, temporary obedience.
It was in the way Carter and Lena still said still in on harder days, not because love had become uncertain, but because choosing it out loud made it steadier.
No real week was.
Carter had one bad practice where he got frustrated and quiet afterward. Lena had one afternoon where a girl she barely knew asked if she and Carter were “official official,” and Lena’s old instinct to retreat flared so quickly it embarrassed her.
But Carter told her the truth instead of turning frustration into a joke.
Lena told him the question bothered her instead of pretending it didn’t.
They kissed.
They tried.
And by Saturday afternoon, Carter’s apartment was ready for inspection.
Carter: Apartment inspection window open. Snacks stocked. Hockey bag contained. No visible raccoon evidence.
She wore her most judgmental cardigan, which Lena suspected was intentional, and carried a notebook she did not need.
“This is a big step,” Paige said as they walked across campus toward the apartment complex where several hockey players lived.
“It’s dinner at his apartment.”
“It’s entering the habitat.”
“Please don’t call it that.”
“Fine. The emotional ecosystem.”
“Worse.”
Paige smiled. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes.”
“Scary big?”
Lena smiled softly. “Less scary now.”
Paige’s expression warmed.
When Carter opened the apartment door, he looked at Lena first.
Then the notebook.
“Formal inspection?”
Paige held it up. “Unannounced standards review.”
“You texted me six warnings.”
“And yet men remain underprepared.”
Carter stepped aside. “Welcome.”
Lena walked in and stopped.
A pair of sneakers by the door. A hockey stick leaning in the corner. A stack of textbooks on the coffee table, one page marked with a granola bar wrapper. A framed photo of Carter with his parents after a youth hockey championship on the shelf.
Chocolate peanut butter cups.
Emergency cookies.
And beside them, a small sticky note in Carter’s handwriting:
Then at Carter.
“This is manipulation.”
Carter nodded solemnly. “Yes.”
Carter smiled at her, and something in his face looked vulnerable.
Like her opinion mattered more than all of Paige’s theatrical inspection notes combined.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Lena looked around again.
The effort tucked into every corner.
“I think it feels like you,” she said.
“Yes.” She touched the photo on the shelf lightly. “And I think I like being here.”
Soft.
“Good.”