Page 9 of Carter
Part of me wanted to march back in and tell her straight—I see you. You don’t have to carry this alone.But she didn’t need a rescue. She’d made that clear in the ER, and again tonight.
Still, the thought wouldn’t leave me: maybe she didn’t need saving. Maybe she needed someone stubborn enough to stand beside her.
I put the truck in gear, the decision already made somewhere in the marrow. Harper Vale wasn’t going to be easy, and maybe that’s why I couldn’t shake her.
Because for the first time in a long time, hard didn’t scare me.
9
Harper
Sunday mornings in Carlsbad were supposed to be quiet—sunlight spilling over the ocean, coffee shops buzzing with surfers fresh off the waves, the smell of salt and roasted beans mixing in the air.
I slipped into the corner café on State Street, on my way home, the one with chalkboard menus and uneven wooden tables, planning nothing more exciting than caffeine and a blueberry muffin before crashing into bed. My scrubs felt worn thin.
The last thing I expected was to hear a low voice behind me.
“Thought nurses ran on coffee alone, not muffins.”
“Maybe I like to mix it up,” I said, forcing lightness into my tone.
His gaze flicked to the muffin in my hand, then back up. “Dangerous move. Sugar crash in two hours.”
“Good thing I’ll be asleep by then.”
I grabbed my cup of coffee and slid into a corner table, and told myself to focus on breakfast. But Carter didn’t leave. He picked up his own coffee, glanced around, andwalked straight to my table like there wasn’t an empty seat in the place.
“Mind if I sit?”
I hesitated. My head saidyes, I mind. My pulse saidabsolutely not.
“Sure,” I said finally.
He sat across from me, sprawling in a way that took up more space than the chair allowed, but his attention stayed tight on me. It was unnerving, that level of focus.
“You always work nights?” he asked.
“Mostly. Somebody has to.”
“You like it?”
I blew across the rim of my coffee, buying a second. “I like that it matters.”
His jaw ticked, a flash of understanding there. “Yeah. That’s the part that keeps you in it, even when it costs.”
The way he said it made me wonder just how much he’d given up. But I didn’t ask. It was none of my business.
We sat there, the space between us thick with things unsaid. Around us, the café buzzed with easy Sunday laughter, but it felt like we were in a different pocket of air entirely—sharper, heavier.
Carter leaned in slightly, forearms braced on the table. “You ever think about slowing down?”
I met his eyes, steady. “You ever think about sitting still?”
For the first time since I’d met him, he laughed. A real one. Short, rough, but it tugged a smile from me before I could stop it.
And just like that, I knew I was in trouble.
The moment stretched until my coffee cooled, until my muffin sat forgotten between us. Carter leaned back finally, but not in retreat—more like he’d decided something I wasn’t privy to yet.
