Page 53 of Red Zone (PCU Storm #2)

CARTER

I ’ve behaved.

For weeks.

I’ve kept my head down. Stayed out of her way. Did what she asked.

Even though it’s practically killed me inside every damn day.

But tonight…tonight is supposed to be the most important night of my life.

The night I finally get what I’ve been working for since I was a kid with nothing but a busted football and a dream nobody believed in.

The night I prove them all wrong.

Jaxon’s already gone. First round, just like everyone knew he would be. He smiled that easy smile when his name was called, hugged Madison, and walked up on the stage like he was born for it.

And I clapped for him, loud and proud.

But now it’s my turn.

The second round has barely started when my phone vibrates on the table.

My stomach flips as I pick it up and put it to my ear.

“Carter Hayes?” a man’s voice says on the other end, deep and certain. “This is Coach Bradley with the Chicago Bears. How’d you like to come play for us?”

For a beat, I can’t even speak.

I just close my eyes and let out a breath I feel like I’ve been holding my whole damn life.

“Yes, sir,” I finally manage, my voice low and rough. “I’d like that very much.”

The next few minutes are a blur—handshakes, slaps on the back, flashes of cameras, people calling my name and congratulating me.

But none of it feels real.

Because all I can think about is her.

All I’ve been thinking about, every single day I’ve kept my distance, is her.

Her laugh. Her thirteen freckles on the right side of her face. The way she made me feel like I was more than just another kid trying to survive.

The only thing that really matters.

So, I smile for the cameras. I shake every hand. I give them the soundbite they want.

But all I want to do is go home.

And finally get back what I’ve been missing all along.

Her.

I slip out of the venue as soon as I can without drawing too much attention, still pulling my tie loose as I hit the quiet sidewalk outside.

The cool night air cuts through the heat of the cameras and chatter behind me, but it doesn’t slow my heart at all.

Because now that it’s done—now that my name’s been called, the contract’s waiting, the whole damn world finally watching me—there’s only one thing on my mind.

And she’s not here.

As soon as the wheels of the plane touch down back at home, I pull out my phone and scroll, thumb hovering over the call button for half a second before pressing.

It rings twice before it’s answered.

“Hayes,” comes Coach Harding’s unmistakable grumble on the other end.

“Coach,” I say, forcing my voice steady. “It’s me. Just checking in to see if the package is where it’s supposed to be.”

There’s a pause.

Then a low snort.

“The package?”

“Yeah,” I say dryly. “You know. The package.”

I can almost hear the eye roll through the phone.

“You kids and your stupid code names,” he mutters. “You could just say her name, you know.”

“Is it there or not?” I press, already impatient.

Another beat, then a sigh.

“Yes, Hayes. The package is in the target location. Safe and sound.”

I close my eyes, relief washing through me.

“Thanks, Coach,” I murmur, my voice dropping.

There’s another gruff little sound from his end of the line.

“Don’t screw this up,” he says. “And don’t tell her I played along with your little spy movie crap.”

I huff out something that’s almost a laugh.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

And then I hang up, heading for my car.

Because this weekend might’ve been about football.

But the only thing that really matters now is getting to her.

And proving she’s still mine.

Coach’s house is louder than I’ve ever heard it.

The entire main floor is packed—players, families, coaches, department heads, even a couple reporters milling around the edges. Laughter bounces off the high ceilings, glasses clink, and somebody’s already set up a speaker playing a classic rock playlist that feels very much like Coach chose it.

It’s supposed to be a celebration.

For Jaxon. For me. For all of us who got the call this weekend.

But walking into this house, all I can think about is Lyla.

I shake a few hands on my way through the crowd, accepting backslaps and congratulations with a polite smile that doesn’t quite reach my eyes.

Jaxon catches me near the kitchen, holding a beer and looking infuriatingly relaxed.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” he says with a grin, clapping my shoulder.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I mutter, forcing a smirk.

He narrows his eyes at me, then glances around like he knows what—or rather who—I’m looking for.

“She’s here,” he says quietly, dropping the grin. “Out back. Probably trying to avoid the circus.”

I hesitate.

He leans in, his voice low. “You already did the hard part, Hayes. Don’t let this one go now.”

Madison appears beside him then, slipping her arm through his with a knowing smile.

“You’ll regret it if you do,” she adds softly.

I glance between them, my chest tightening, then finally give a sharp nod.

“Thanks,” I murmur, already moving toward the back of the house.

The sliding door clicks shut behind me, muffling all the noise of laughter and clinking glasses coming from inside.

Out here, the night feels calmer. The faint ripple of water in the pool. The soft hum of cicadas.

String lights glowing overhead, casting everything in warm gold.

And there she is.

Sitting by herself on one of the lounge chairs near the deep end, heels off and laying beside her.

Her hair’s loose, catching the breeze, and her dress drapes around her like it was made for her.

For a second, I just stand there.

Because even after everything, even after weeks of keeping my distance, nothing—and no one—feels more like home than she does.

I shove my hands in my pockets and make my way toward her.

She must hear me coming because she glances up just as I reach her chair.

Her lips curve into the faintest smile. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say back, letting the quiet stretch between us for a moment before adding, “Didn’t think I’d find you out here.”

She gives a small shrug, her eyes dropping back to the water. “Needed a break from the chaos. You know how these things get.”

I huff a quiet laugh. “Yeah. I do.”

I hesitate, then pull out the chair next to hers and sit.

For the first time in weeks, it feels like we’re just us again.

She glances at me after a beat, her smile softening. “Congratulations, Carter. Chicago’s lucky to have you.”

Her voice is so gentle, so sure, it makes my chest ache.

“Thanks,” I murmur. Then, after a pause, I turn toward her, studying her profile in the golden light.

“You never told me,” I say carefully. “Did you end up applying to grad school out there?”

She bites her lip, like she’s not sure how much to give me. But then she nods.

“Yeah,” she admits softly. “I did.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest, even as I try to keep my expression steady.

“Yeah?” I echo, my voice quiet now.

She finally looks at me then, her green eyes brighter than I remember.

“Yeah,” she says again, firmer this time.

I let a faint smirk tug at the corner of my mouth, my chest still tight as hell.

I watch her eyes linger on the water, the faintest smile on her lips, and something in me just…slips.

I lean my elbow on the back of my chair, turning toward her fully.

“You know,” I say casually, like I’m just thinking out loud. “With both of us potentially ending up in Chicago, seems like a pretty good excuse to save on rent.”

Her head snaps toward me, her eyes going wide.

Then—just as quick—she lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head.

“You’re ridiculous,” she mutters, but there’s the faintest pink creeping into her cheeks.

I grin at her, trying to keep it light, even though my heart’s hammering.

“Just saying,” I shrug, playful but a little too honest. “Think of the money we’d save. It’d be practical.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t tell me no.

“Hey, Princess?”

Her eyes snap up to mine, startled at first. Then they soften, her lips parting like she already knows something’s shifted.

I hold her gaze, letting the teasing slip away, letting her see exactly how much I mean it when I say, “I’m not just saying that to mess with you. This draft was big for me…but it doesn’t mean shit if you’re not in it somehow.”

Her lips part, but she still doesn’t say anything.

And something inside me just gives.

Because I can’t hold it in anymore.

I shift in my chair so I’m fully facing her now, leaning forward, elbows on my knees, my eyes locked on hers.

“I’ve never…” I start, my voice rough, low. I pause, swallow hard, then try again. “I’ve never told anyone I loved them before.”

Her breath catches, and her hand tightens slightly on the edge of the chair.

“I wasn’t even sure I knew what love was,” I continue, my words coming faster now, like a dam breaking. “Not growing up the way I did. Not bouncing from house to house, watching people walk out like it was nothing. I thought maybe it wasn’t something meant for guys like me.”

She blinks, and I swear I see her eyes glint under the string lights.

“But then you came along,” I say, my voice soft but steady now. “And you ruined all of that. You made me feel like I was more than just…a number. A jersey. A fucking foster file.”

I lean closer, enough that I can see every freckle on her cheeks, every detail of her eyes.

“And now?” I shake my head, a humorless little laugh slipping out. “Now I don’t know how not to love you.”

The silence between us is heavy, but it’s the kind of heavy that feels alive.

Her lips tremble like she’s about to say something, but before she can, I whisper out loud, “I love you, Lyla Harding. And I don’t care who knows it. I don’t care what anyone thinks. I’m done staying away.”