Page 29 of No Save Point

I settle against the cushions, studying him out of the corner of my eye, catching on the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his brows furrow just slightly as he pretends to focus on the screen.

I know what he’s doing. I know he’s trying to change the subject, trying to get us past whatever just happened. I let him do it, until he says something I wasn’t expecting.

“So, how was your the rest of your last stream? Did your kill count improve, or are you still getting carried by your teammates?”

I whip my head toward him, pretending to be insulted. “Excuse me? First of all, I don’t get carried.”

Carter grins, stretching his arms over his head, he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Mmm, I dunno, Haven. That’s not what I heard.”

I scoff, grabbing a throw pillow and launching it at his head. “Oh, shut up.”

He catches it easily, smirking. “Defensive much?”

“You’re so full of shit.”

He laughs, the kind that makes my stomach flip, and for a second, I almost forget what we were talking about. Until I don’t, until I remember exactly what happened on my last stream and who was on the server that night.

My mood shifts instantly. I know exactly what Carter is doing. It’s not just teasing, it’s steering. And now that I think about it? It’s fucking obvious. I exhale sharply, crossing my arms. “If you really wanna talk about my last stream, we can talk aboutTate.”

Carter’s grin dims slightly, almost unnoticeably.

But I see it. The second his grin falters, just for a fraction of a second, just enough for me to catch it before he smooths it out again, I know.

I know that something about this isn’t just casual teasing, that something about the way he brought up my stream wasn’t just a throwaway comment, that maybe he was trying to redirect my focus away from exactly what I just landed on.

I move, pulling my knees back up against my chest, watching him carefully now, watching the way he leans back into the couch like he’s totally unbothered, watching the way his fingers drum lazily against the armrest.

“It is funny how you bring up my last stream though,” I say slowly, tilting my head, my voice lighter than I feel. “Because I spent most of it arguing with some absolute menace who thought it would be fun to get under my skin for the millionth time.”

Carter doesn’t react, not in the way that would make it obvious, anyway. But his fingers still, his breathing shifts.

I keep pushing. “I swear, this guy takes way too much pleasure in pissing me off,” I say, exhaling dramatically, dragging my fingers over the throw blanket beside me. “And the worst part? He’s good. Like, I hate to admit it, but he’s actually good. Which makes it even more annoying because I know he was holding back just to mess with me.”

Carter lets out a soft, noncommittal hum, eyes still on the TV, like he’s not really listening, like he’s not sitting there thinking a little too hard about what I’m saying. I narrow my eyes slightly.

“And then—” I continue, drawing out the words, watching for any more slivers of reaction, anything that confirms the sudden gut feeling pressing against my ribs. “—I get here, and your brother just so happens to wear the same exact mask as the guy who’s been tormenting me online for months?”

That does something, just a slight stiffening of his shoulders, a brief waver of his gaze in my direction, the smallest shift in his posture like he’s bracing for impact.

My stomach tightens, knotting with something sharp. I tilt my head, studying him now, pressing forward, following the trail of breadcrumbs I don’t think he meant to leave.

“You sure you don’t want to clue me in on that?” I ask. “Because it’s weird, Carter. You have to admit it’s weird.”

He finally turns his head toward me, like he’s already figuring out what he has to say to throw me off, to keep me from walking straight into the answer that, for some reason, he doesn’t want me to have.

“You really think my brother spends his time gaming?” he says, voice easy, but there’s something else in it.

For the first time since I met Carter, I don’t quite trust him. Not entirely. Not when I can feel a lie sitting somewhere between us. Not when I know, deep in my gut, that he’s not telling me something. And that something has everything to do with Tate.

I can feel it, the way the weight of whatever he’s been keeping from me is finally pressing too hard on his ribs, the way he doesn’t know how to package the words in a way that won’t detonate the second they leave his mouth.

I don’t let the silence stretch too long. I want him uncomfortable, because I sure as hell am. I sit up straighter, hands curled into my lap, eyes locked on his face. “You’ve known this entire time, haven’t you?”

Carter’s throat bobs, his fingers curling over his knees, his whole body tense like he’s already bracing for impact. I shake my head, pressing harder. “You knew Tate was the one who’s been fucking with me online.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, his whole posture sinking like I just confirmed something for him that he didn’t want to hear out loud.

And then, finally… he nods. Like he knows this answer changes everything.

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