Sparks Fly

CHAPTER FIVE

Carter
I walked up the familiar driveway to my dad's house, feeling that familiar mix of nostalgia and tension. It had been a while since I'd visited, and every time I did, I could feel the weight of his expectations bearing down on me. I pushed open the front door and stepped inside.

"Carter!" My dad's gruff voice echoed from the kitchen. "Didn't know you were stopping by."

I shrugged, stepping into the kitchen where he was leaning against the counter, a cold beer in his hand. He reached into the fridge and pulled out another, holding it out to me.

"Thanks," I said, cracking it open and taking a swig. The cold liquid was a welcome distraction.

He studied me for a moment, his eyes sharp and calculating. "How's work?" he asked, as if he didn't already know.

"It's good," I replied. "Busy."

"Busy's good. Means you're working hard," he said, nodding. "You close to getting that Captain spot?"

I hesitated. My dad always had high expectations. He had this way of making it sound like if I didn't achieve something by a certain time, I was wasting my potential. "I'm working on it," I replied.

"Working on it," he repeated, giving me a pointed look. "That's not a yes."

I clenched my jaw, reminding myself to stay calm. "It's a process, Dad. You know that."

He nodded slowly, looking off into the distance. "Just don't waste time, Carter. You only get one shot to prove yourself."

I took another sip of my beer, feeling the tension rise. "I know," I said. "I'm doing everything I can."

For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the only sound being the ticking of the clock on the wall. Finally, he gave a short nod, seeming satisfied. "Good. Keep it up."

I finished my beer and decided it was time to head out. I said goodbye to my dad, who gave me a firm pat on the back and a quick, "Make me proud, son," before I left. I got into my truck and headed back to my apartment, my mind still replaying the conversation.

As soon as I got home, I barely had time to put my keys down before there was a knock on the door. I opened it to see Chase standing there, a grin on his face.

"Hey, man," he greeted. "Feel like hitting the gym?"

"Yeah, sounds good," I replied, grabbing my bag. "Give me a sec to change."

A few minutes later, we were driving over to the gym, talking about everything and nothing. Chase was quiet for a minute, then he cleared his throat.

"So, I've been thinking about proposing to Emma," he said, glancing at me.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised but happy for him. "That's awesome, man! Do you know how you're gonna do it?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little sheepish. "Not exactly. I want it to be special, but not too over the top. I thought about doing it at the spot where we first met, maybe with some candles or something, but I don't know if that's too cliché."

"Nah, that sounds great," I replied. "If it's meaningful to you guys, that's what matters. You could even do something small and intimate, just the two of you."

He nodded, considering it. "Yeah, you're right. Emma's not big on grand gestures anyway. I think she'd appreciate something simple."

We discussed a few other ideas while we hit the weights, and I could see the excitement building in him. It was nice, watching him plan out this big moment in his life. He deserved it.