Page 146 of Red Zone
And then Nicole—polite as ever—shifts her attention across the table.
“So, Carter,” she says warmly, smiling at him. “What about you? Where’d you grow up?”
Carter glances up, his fork pausing just briefly before he sets it down and leans back slightly.
“Little bit of everywhere, honestly,” he says, his voice calm but measured. “Didn’t really have one place I stayed too long.”
Nicole tilts her head, curious. “Oh? Military family?”
He lets out a low, quiet laugh at that—but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
“Something like that,” he says.
I study him from the corner of my eye. Most people wouldn’t even notice the faint edge in his tone. But I do.
I always do.
Nicole nods politely, clearly not picking up on the subtle deflection. “Well, wherever it was, you clearly picked up good manners along the way.”
That earns him a faint smirk from my dad too. “She’s not wrong about that,” Dad adds. “I’ve seen a lot of kids roll throughmy program thinking they’re hotshots before they’ve earned it. Not you.”
Carter just gives a small, easy smile at that. “Appreciate that, Coach. Means a lot.”
And just like that, the conversation drifts back to safer ground—Nicole chatting about the dessert she’s planning to bring to her sister’s house tomorrow, Dad groaning about the next football
recruiting trip he has to take, and Emmy scrolling on her phone like none of it matters to her anyway.
But I keep sneaking glances at Carter.
Because even though he handles himself perfectly—polite, charming, even funny—there’s still something about the way he answered that question.
Something in the way he looked down at his plate for just a second too long.
Like there’s more there than he’s willing to say.
I can tell the exact moment Carter starts to get uncomfortable.
He covers it well—still smiling, still nodding—but there’s a slight shift in his posture, his hand flexing once on his thigh under the table.
Nicole’s still talking about something, but her eyes keep flicking back to him like she’s looking for more, like she’s not ready to let him off the hook yet.
And maybe it’s selfish, but I don’t want to watch him squirm. Not here. Not tonight.
So, I set my napkin down and clear my throat.
“Well,” I say brightly, pushing my chair back. “We should probably get going. Still have to stop by and see Carter’s mom before it gets too late.”
The table goes quiet for a beat, every pair of eyes snapping to me.
Even Carter blinks at me, startled.
“Carter’s mom, huh?” Dad asks, a small smirk raising the corner of his mouth, his eyes starting to sparkle like he’s in on a private joke.
I give him my most polite daughter smile. “Mm-hm. Promised we’d pop in and say hi before Christmas. You know. Family stuff.”
Carter’s lips twitch like he’s about to laugh, but he presses them together and stands up too.
“Yep,” he says smoothly, grabbing his jacket, his voice sounding almost strained.
