Page 25 of No Save Point

It’s weird, the Carter I’ve come to know doesn’t scare easily. I’ve spent enough time talking to him, enough time watching him navigate situations like he’s always in control, always easy, always unbothered. Right now though, he looks like a guy driving straight toward a fucking problem.

I clear my throat, keeping my tone light, teasing, giving him an out if he wants it. “You good, or are you regretting this already?”

Carter huffs out something that’s almost a laugh, but it’s not quite right, not quite real. He doesn’t look at me. He just keeps his eyes on the road, fingers flexing slightly against the wheel. “I’m good,” he says.

But I don’t buy it, not for a second. I don’t know why, I don’t know what the hell is waiting for us at his house that has him this wound up. But I’m starting to think I should.

The road stretches ahead of us, dark and quiet, the town has settled into its late-night, the sidewalks empty, the neon signs casting eerie reflections onto the wet pavement.

Carter grips the wheel like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment, knuckles tight, tension rolling off him in steady waves. His posture is loose on the surface, leaned back, one hand resting against the gear shift, the other steady on the wheel but I know what I’m looking at.

A guy trying to pretend like he’s not losing his mind. I don’t say anything at first, I just watch him.

The way his jaw tics every time we pass another streetlight. The way his fingers flex around the steering wheel, tighten, release, tighten again. The way his chest rises just a little too slow, like he’s forcing himself to breathe evenly. What the hell is he so on edge about?

I clear my throat, shifting slightly in my seat, my voice purposefully light, just enough to test the waters. “So, is this the part where you take me out into the woods and tell me I was the target of some elaborate internet scam all along?”

Carter manages a laugh, but it’s short, distracted, wrong. “No,” he says, voice lower than usual. “You’d see me coming first.”

I blink, turning toward him fully now. “Wow, that was ominous.”

His mouth quirks slightly, like he wants to smile but can’t fully commit to it. Whatever the hell is in his head is too loud.

I drag my fingers across the seam of my jeans, studying him in the dim light, the shifting glow of the dashboard casting soft shadows across his face. “Okay, seriously.” I tilt my head, watching him, waiting. “You gonna tell me what’s up, or are you just gonna keep white-knuckling the wheel like you’re driving straight into a war zone?”

His grip doesn’t loosen, and his jaw doesn’t relax. For a second, I think he’s not going to answer. Then, slowly he drags in a breath, keeps his eyes forward, voice too steady to be natural. “I just didn’t think I’d be bringing you here this soon.”

The way he says it makes my stomach flip, he’s not talking about bringing a girl home. He’s talking about something else. Something I don’t have the full picture of yet. I study him for a second longer.

As we pull into his driveway, his house is exactly what I expected and nothing like it at all. It’s older, but well-kept, the kind of place that feels like it’s been lived in, like it holds too many stories, like it’s seen too much. The warm glow from the porch light makes the dark exterior look softer, more inviting, but there’s still something about it that makes my stomach flip.

Maybe it’s the way Carter hesitated before getting out of the car. Maybe it’s the way he keeps subtly glancing up toward the second floor, like he’s expecting something. Maybe it’s just me, overthinking, reading too much into things like I always do.

Carter moves easier now, a little looser, like being home should be a relief, but there’s still tension lining his shoulders, still that tightness in his jaw that hasn’t gone away since we left the diner.

I step in after him, my sneakers scuffing softly against the hardwood, my gaze flicking over the space. It’s… nice. Warm, lived-in. But it’s also empty.

Carter shuts the door behind us, keys jingling as he sets them on a small table near the entrance, before turning back to me, watching my reaction like he’s bracing for something. “You wanna look around?” he asks.

I tilt my head, studying him, studying the way he’s watching me too carefully, like he needs to see my reaction before he decides how to act next. I shrug, shifting my weight. “You offering the full tour?”

One side of his mouth lifts, but it doesn’t quite fully form. “Something like that.”

I let him lead the way.

The living room is cozy, the kind of space that actually feels used, not just staged to look perfect, but lived-in, broken into, familiar. There’s a massive sectional, a coffee table cluttered with a few stray pieces of mail and a headset that looks like it’s been tossed there and forgotten.

The kitchen is open, clean but not obsessively so, just enough to show that someone actually cooks here.

I don’t ask about the second floor, even though he keeps glancing up like something is pulling at his focus. He doesn’t mention it either. Instead, he finally turns back to me, clearing his throat. “Wanna check out the new gaming PC I just got?”

I blink, caught off guard by the shift. “You? A gaming PC finally? I thought you’ve just been all talk this whole time.”

He smirks, moving toward a side room, gesturing for me to follow. “What? You think I only want to watch from the sidelines?”

I laugh, stepping in after him. “I mean… yeah. Thought that was your whole thing.”

Carter just shakes his head, grinning and leading the way.

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