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I felt a smile slide its way onto my face. “I agree.”
“And I think we should get each family new towels and dishrags. I was even thinking about some new sheets. I actually called Mrs. Parks and got bed sizes for the families.”
A wave of shame washed over me. There I was mulling over my own issues, while Carson was thinking of others. People who had less than I did, who had more significant problems than their parents feuding. “Linens like that are expensive though,” I said, not wanting to be negative, but knowing with all the other things we needed to purchase there probably wasn’t enough in the budget.
“Not too expensive when you received an Addington donation.” Carson wiggled his brows. “We could buy sheets for days. I even think we can get each family a gift card.”
My eyes widened. “Really?”
Carson nodded. “I may have spoken with Lucas’ dad.”
“Wow. That’s amazing. And I think that’s a fabulous idea.” I stared at him a moment, my gaze flickering over his face, and when he smiled, his whole face lit up.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing.” I shook my head and glanced away, then peeked at him again from the corner of my eye.
Carson laughed. “What’s that look for?”
I picked at the chipping pink polish on my thumbnail. “Nothing. I just. . .I?
?m surprised.”
“What? That I put effort into this?”
“Well, yeah,” I said, laughing.
“It was the least I could do. You budgeted out the groceries to the last penny and made all those lists of yours. Plus, you’ve been picking up the stuff from the Angel Tree on and off, which is so much harder for me with swim practice.”
“I suppose,” I said, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. Carson actually seemed to care, while I had just been going through the motions, too consumed with my own problems. “You’re different than I thought.”
His eyes met mine. “How so?”
“You’re nice.”
We both laughed at that, then I leaned my head back against the seat. The truth was, I thought I had Carson Brooks all figured out. Mr. Carefree, go-with-the-flow, life of the party had a lot more layers to him. Maybe I had been all wrong about him. Perhaps I never really knew him. And if I was wrong, maybe Olivia was wrong too, and he didn’t feel sorry for me.
“It’s kind of fun surprising you,” Carson said, interrupting my thoughts.
I shot him a sidelong glance even as my heart leapt. His dark hair hung in his eyes, and his full lips curved into a grin.
“Carson?” I asked.
“Yeah?”
We both stared straight out into the parking lot as if looking at each other might somehow break this truce—the moment of honesty—we had going.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
I heard him swallow, and the soft sound of his breath as his breathing grew shallow. “I’ve always been nice to you.”
I was too tired to scoff, so instead, I just shook my head. “We both know that’s not true. Neither of us have been nice,” I admitted.
The silence that followed stretched on so long I thought he might not answer, then he said, “Don’t you think we’re a little old for the fighting? We both leave for college at the end of the summer. We’re eighteen. We’ve had nine years of fighting. I don’t want to fight anymore.”
“Because?”
You like me. I wanted him to say it—urged him to say the words. And that desire both frightened and excited me because it was so full of possibility.
