Page 29 of Red Zone
Eric stumbles away, grateful for the out.
Carter reaches for my soaked notepad, holding it up between two fingers. “RIP. She fought hard.”
Despite myself, a small, wobbly laugh slips out.
He glances at me. “There she is.”
I wipe at my eyes, even though I’m not crying. Not exactly. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he says, standing again. “You want me to grab you another coffee? Or murder Eric with a stapler?”
I shake my head. “I think I’m okay.”
He holds my gaze for a second longer than necessary.
Then, just as he turns to leave, he tosses over his shoulder, “For the record…I like your chaos. Kinda suits you.”
I stare after him, still catching my breath.
That was a different side of Carter Hayes. Maybe there’s more to him after all.
9
CARTER
The party is low-key; the kind of chill hangout people throw the night before a game when they don’t want to get yelled at during film review. Music’s low, beers are half-warm, and everyone pretends like they’re not keeping one eye on the time.
I lean against the kitchen counter, sipping a soda because Coach would bench my ass for showing up hungover. Logan’s nearby, talking to Beck about some play they want to try out next week, but I’m not really listening.
Because she just walked in.
Lyla.
Hair down. Jean jacket over a tight little top. Her smile’s easy, her laugh softer than usual. And it’s not for me.
It’s for Grayson Bennett.
Fucking hockey players.
He’s standing too close, leaning in just enough that it looks like they’re sharing a secret, and she’s laughing like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
I take another sip, jaw tight.
I want to be the reason for that laugh.
Logan says something about defensive schemes, but I’m already moving, feet carrying me across the room before I can talk myself out of it.
I stop right in front of them. “Hey, Harding. Can I talk to you for a sec?”
Lyla blinks up at me, smile gone. “I’m in the middle of something, Carter.”
Grayson raises a brow, clearly amused. “We’re just talking, man.”
I don’t look at him. Don’t need to. “Just a minute.”
She sighs, folding her arms. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t say what I need to, I’ll probably regret it.”
