Page 30 of No Save Point

I laugh, sharp, humorless, hollow. “So that’s it? That’s the whole explanation?”

Carter drags his hands down his face before resting his elbows on his knees, his voice tight, like he’s dragging it straight from his chest. “I didn’t know how to tell you Haven, honest,” he admits, voice rough. “At first, I didn’t think it mattered. You two hated each other, but it was just a game, just gamer shit-talking, nothing serious. But then…” He pauses, drags a hand through his hair, his eyes shifting to mine, searching. “Then you started talking about him differently.”

I blink. “Differently?”

Carter shifts, fingers flexing like he wants to reach for something, for me, maybe, but stops himself. “I mean the way you’d talk about how he pissed you off, the way you’d get so worked up, the way it wasn’t just about the game anymore.”

My jaw locks, irritation flaring hot under my skin. “Yeah, because he made it personal. He went out of his way to piss me off.”

Carter lets out a dry, humorless laugh. “Yeah. That’s what he does, what he thrives on.”

I stare at him, waiting, waiting, waiting for him to get to the part where this somehow makes any fucking sense. “So what?” I ask, shaking my head. “You just decided I didn’t need to fucking know at all?”

His fingers curl into his palm, his jaw tight, his shoulders tense up like he already hates his answer. “I didn’t want you to look at me and see him.”

That stops me for a moment, it’s not what I was expecting. I inhale sharply, my thoughts racing, fitting together pieces that I didn’t even realize were sitting on the table. Instead of warning me, he let it play out. I don’t know if I’m more pissed at him for keeping it from me, or more pissed at myself for not seeing it sooner. I stare at him, my pulse a hammer against my chest, my brain already moving a mile a minute.

Now that he’s said it out loud? There’s no way in hell I’m letting this go. For a second, I just sit there, letting the weight of everything he just admitted settle in, feeling the tension radiating off of him in waves, watching the way his jaw is locked so tight it looks like it might snap, the way his fingers flex against his knees like he doesn’t know what to do with them, like he’s waiting for the moment I completely lose my shit. Yeah, it’s fucking insane.

The fact that Carter’s twin is the guy who has been singlehandedly responsible for my most rage-inducing gaming moments all while driving me insane with those ‘pretty girl’ words.

The fact that Carter knew and never said a damn thing. Even with all of this crashing down around us, my brain still has the audacity to acknowledge how stupidly attractive both of them are.

I don’t know what happens first, the sharp exhale that turns into a full-body shake of my head, or the short, incredulous laugh that slips out before I can stop it. This is fucking ridiculous.

Carter’s brows pull together, his expression tightening like I just did something completely unexpected. “What—”

I hold up a hand, laughing harder now, because fuck, this whole thing is just so dumb. “Okay,” I breathe, swiping a hand over my face, finally locking eyes with him again. “Let me get this straight. You thought that if I knew Tate was your twin, I’d… what? Start associating you with him? Like I’d lump you both into the same category and suddenly hate you, too?”

Carter doesn’t say anything, but his lack of denial tells me everything.

I snort, shaking my head again, still laughing because holy shit. I lean forward, nudging his knee with mine, needing him to actually hear me now, needing him to stop sitting there like I just ripped the floor out from under him. “Carter,” I say, voice softer now. “You and Tate are nothing alike.”

I sigh, settling back against the couch, still trying to wrap my own head around everything but knowing one thing for sure.

“I mean, yeah, this whole thing is insane,” I admit, waving a hand in the air. “Like, actually, what-the-fuck level ridiculous. But you? I would never—” I shake my head, locking eyes with him again so he knows I mean it. “I would never put you in the same category as him.”

This should be the part where he finally exhales, where he finally stops looking like he’s standing on the edge of a goddamn cliff.

Carter shakes his head, lets out a breath, and mutter. “Maybe you coming here was a mistake Haven, I’m sorry.”

I freeze, what the hell? My stomach twists, my breath catching in my throat, my entire body going still as his words sink in.

Carter won’t look at me now. His hands are on his knees, his head tilted down slightly, his chest rising slowly, like he’s forcing himself to breathe evenly. He looks like he’s actually scared, Not nervous or uncomfortable, scared. I feel it before I even fully understand it.

Carter isn’t saying this because he wants me to leave. He’s saying this because he’s afraid that if I stay, he’s going to ruin everything between us. That pisses me off.

His hands are braced against his knees, his head tipped forward just slightly, like he’s waiting for me to stand up and walk out the door, like he’s already convinced himself that’s what’s going to happen next.

And I realize, suddenly, brutally, that this isn’t about Tate. This isn’t about the lie, about what he kept from me, about the months of silence, about the fact that he let me walk into this without telling me. This is about us. How much I mean to him, this is the look of someone who thinks he just lost the one thing he wanted more than anything.

I feel it, too. The sharp, twisting weight in my chest, the deep pull low in my stomach, the kind of realization that sneaks up on you, that rearranges everything you thought you knew, that shifts the foundation you didn’t even realize was unsteady. This thing between us, it was never just friendship, was it?

Not for him. And, if I’m really being honest with myself? Not for me either. I exhale slowly, dragging my nails over my jeans, forcing myself to move, to breathe, to do something before Carter talks himself into thinking I’m done with him. I shift, leaning forward, pressing my knee against his, my voice softer now, gentler, because this isn’t something I can joke my way out of, because he needs to hear it for real. “Carter, you’re an idiot,” I murmur.

His head lifts just slightly, just enough for me to see the flicker of hesitation in his eyes, the way his brows pinch like he’s afraid to hope.

I shake my head, “I mean, seriously.” I huff out a breath, letting out a small, incredulous laugh, because I can’t believe I have to spell it out for him. “You really think I’d let this change how I feel about you?”

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