Sophie & Carter Read Online Free Page B

true and take away all the bad things.
    I don’t.
    I can’t.
    I squeeze her hand because I have nothing more to offer.
    “Tomorrow morning, then?” she says, and my heart jumps. I’ve been going over to Sophie’s house every morning before school for a year. Knowing I get to see Sophie first thing in the morning is how I sleep at night.
    “Of course,” I say, because I wouldn’t miss it for the world.
    She knows it too.
    She winks at me and we pull our hands apart.
    It feels wrong, not touching her. Like a part of me just died or something. But I smile back and make my way off the porch.
    “Carter?” she says, and I know what’s coming. My heart climbs to the top of my chest in anticipation.
    “Sweet dreams.” She says casually, like she’s done since we were thirteen.
    It’s impossible, it’s cliché, and people say things like that all the time. But those two words used to get me through some bloody nights.
    I smile and shove my hands in my pockets, “You too.” I turn and cross the short distance back to my front door.
    The door frame is uneven, making the warped wood of the door stick. I mindlessly yank on the door, releasing it from the splintered frame and evoking a groan from the hinges.
    I glance back, across the muddy grass, crumbled rock, and cracked concrete that separate us, to watch Sophie enter her house quietly.
    I will have sweet dreams.
    Or, at least, I won’t have nightmares.

SOPHIE
     
     
    I’m packing lunches and checking homework and making breakfast all at the same time. The TV’s on, the radio’s on, the frying pan’s sizzling, the coffee maker’s beeping, and the boys are yelling at each other about a baseball hat.
    Total chaos.
    This is my every morning.
    We’re late, I’m stressed, and the eggs are burnt.
    Carter walks in with something in his hand. He doesn’t have to knock or anything. He’s family to me and I like that he walks in.
    I calm down immediately. “Morning.” I sound cheerful.
    “Morning,” he smiles and makes his way to the boys. The baseball hat issue is solved almost immediately. I tell myself to thank Carter for settling that later.
    He’s by my side then, teasing me about the eggs and asking me how he can help.
    This is OUR every morning.
    “Can you grab the kid’s lunches and pack them?”
    I don’t look at Carter, I don’t need to. He’s good at this. At helping me. At being there.
    I go pour him a cup of coffee. The Littles and I don’t drink coffee. But I make it every morning.
    For Carter.
    I hand him the cup of coffee.
    “Thanks.” He says, but he looks at me longer than usual.
    He loves coffee. It makes him happy or something. He no longer has a coffee maker at his house because his mom kept burning herself and breaking the pot and putting the coffee maker in ‘time out’.
    So I make him coffee. Every morning. This makes me feel useful. And happy.
    Carter sets down his mug and eyes the kitchen table. He kneels on the floor and starts to wedge the ‘something’ in his hands under the table legs. I stare with my mouth open as he finishes and stands back up. The table no longer wobbles.
    He busies himself with the lunches as if nothing happened. I stare at the table for a moment, touched by his thoughtfulness.
    “Thank you,” I say, and mean it from the bottom of my heart.
    He shrugs, finishes the lunches and shoves his hands in his pockets.
    I love his guts.
    I really do.
    “Carter, Carter!” Chloe cries with a big smile as she bounces into the kitchen. Carter is her favorite person in the whole wide world. She’s informed me that she’s going to marry him when she grows up.
    Carter tugs on her pigtails (the ones I spent twenty minutes brushing into place) and kisses the top of her head.
    “Morning, sunshine.” He always calls her sunshine. When she was in kindergarten, she told her teacher that her name was Sunshine.
    I make sure everyone eats breakfast and is dressed before ushering everyone out the front door. Then