Page 6 of Carter
That tugged at something in me, sharp and unexpected. “You don’t strike me as the wall-staring type.”
“Depends on the walls,” he said easily, but his eyes stayedon mine a beat too long. “What about you? Nephew out there?”
I nodded toward Trevor, who was tugging his helmet off with both hands as if it were glued on. “That one. The clumsy but determined slugger.”
Carter followed my line of sight and chuckled. It was low, warm, and caught me off guard. “He’s got heart. That’s half the game.”
For a second, it was just… comfortable. The smell of popcorn, the sound of kids laughing, his voice wrapping around me like it belonged here. Then he leaned in, lowering his tone.
“You good?” he asked.
The question landed heavily. He wasn’t asking about today. He meantthat night. The ER. The chaos. Lindsey. Me.
I swallowed, then nodded. “I’m good. You?”
“Working on it.” His honesty was quiet, but it hit like truth always does—steady and unshakable.
Before I could answer, the coach at the dugout hollered his name. Carter lifted his cap, gave me one last long look, and stepped back.
“See you after the game?” he asked. Not pushy, not presumptuous. Just an open door.
I surprised myself with how quickly I said, “Yeah. After the game.”
He nodded once, then jogged back to the field, leaving me with my heart thumping harder than it had any right to on a sunny Saturday morning at the ballpark.
6
Harper
The game ended in a blur of high-fives and parents herding kids toward minivans. Trevor bounded over to me, face red, hair plastered to his forehead under the helmet.
“Aunt Harper! Did you see my hit?”
“I did,” I said, crouching to wipe the dirt smudge from his cheek. “You were amazing.”
He puffed up, chest proud, before darting off to chase a teammate. I straightened, scanning the crowd, and found Carter across the diamond. He was helping a little boy sling a bat bag over his shoulder, crouched low, steady and patient. Not the man from the ER. Not the soldier. Just a coach making sure a kid didn’t trip under the weight of his gear.
Something in my chest gave way at the sight.
When the last of the kids cleared, Carter caught my eye and tilted his head toward the snack stand. An invitation. I hesitated all of two seconds before nodding.
The line was short—just a few teenagers stocking up on candy. Carter waited until they were out of earshot before speaking.
“You really meant it, huh?” he said.
“Meant what?”
“That you’re good.” He leaned one hip against the counter, hands loose at his sides, but his gaze was sharper than the casual pose.
I exhaled, looking out at the emptying bleachers. “Good enough. Nights are still… harder. But I’ve learned not everything can be fixed. I can’t be scared to leave my house.”
His jaw flexed. “Yeah. Some things you just carry differently.”
The way he said it—low, certain—told me his own ghosts weren’t far behind.
I studied him for a moment. Sunlight cut across his face, highlighting the hard lines, the faint shadow of stubble. The man had been danger personified in a hospital corridor, but here, in daylight, he was something else entirely. Still dangerous, but in a way that made my pulse quicken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
“You never told me,” I said. “Why you were there that night. In the ER.”
