Page 7 of Carter
He didn’t flinch. “New to the team. They were tracking the ring. I just happened to be the guy standing next to your curtain when things went sideways.”
I raised a brow. “Just happened?”
That almost-smile ghosted across his face again. “Okay. Maybe notjust. But I’m glad I was.”
Something unspoken hung between us. A memory, a possibility, a warning. I felt it hum under my skin.
The clerk slid a bottle of water toward him. Carter paid, then handed it to me without asking if I wanted one. I took it, fingers brushing his for the briefest second.
Dangerous. Definitely dangerous.
“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice, “I don’t want tocrowd you. But if you ever need to talk —or not talk — I’m around.”
My throat tightened. I wasn’t used to men offering space instead of trying to fill it.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I said softly.
He nodded once, like that was enough. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
And with that, he tipped his cap and walked me back toward the parking lot, keeping just enough distance to be respectful, but close enough that I felt it all the way down to my bones.
We walked side by side toward the parking lot, the late afternoon sun dipping low, kids weaving between cars with gloves still on their hands. My sister called Trevor over, buckling him into her SUV with a snack bribe. I lingered by my car, keys dangling from my fingers, not quite ready to end the moment.
Carter stopped a few feet away, hand braced on the roof of his truck. He looked at me then—not like a man glancing at a stranger, but like someone cataloging details to keep. The kind of look you feel long after it’s gone.
“Guess I’ll see you around, Harper,” he said.
“Guess you will.”
He tugged his cap lower, but the corner of his mouth betrayed him—just the faintest curve, like he knew a secret.
Before sliding behind his wheel, he added, almost too quietly, “You look different in the sun.”
I blinked. “Different how?”
His grin edged wider, but he didn’t answer. He just started the engine, gave me one last nod, and pulled out of the lot.
I stood there a moment longer, pulse thudding, the echo of his words threading under my skin.
Different in the sun.
It shouldn’t have mattered. But it did.
7
Harper
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, the same steady buzz they always had on nights that never seemed to end. I’d been at the hospital since five p.m., patching together patients with injuries that blurred into one another—car wrecks, bar fights, the usual tide of chaos that funneled through the ER.
By the time I ducked into the break room, my hands smelled faintly of antiseptic and coffee. I tied my braid tighter, rolling the ache out of my shoulders, when a knock tapped against the doorframe.
“Long shift?”
I froze, half-turning. Carter leaned against the door like he belonged there—ball cap shoved back on his head, shirt sleeves pushed to his elbows, forearms dusted with the faintest sheen of grease. Not his usual tactical boots and vest. Civilian clothes. And somehow, that made him more dangerous.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, aware of how clipped my voice sounded.
He held up a brown paper bag. “Kid from my team brokehis wrist sliding into home plate. Figured I’d bring his mom something that doesn’t taste like cafeteria regret.”
