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First published August 6, 2011
"Thank you for doing this," I tell him, returning what's left of the sodas to the refrigerator. "It's just what I needed."
"Well, it goes without saying," he says, reaching around me to put away the ketchup and mustard bottles, "that I'd do whatever I could to make you happy."
He stops, standing almost on top of me, his eyes burning into mine.
A slow, embarrassed heat creeps to my cheeks, the cool air from the fridge raises goose bumps on my arms.
"You were always too good to me, Carter."
He shrugs. Tears his eyes from mine. A small, defeated laugh. "And, somehow, I'm still not enough."