9.7

"I knew she was still using, but for the most part, I haven't seen her. I was in New York working and then heard you were there...I only got back a week ago." Carter pours a cup of coffee and passes it to me. My cold hands appreciate the warmth as I huddle around it, sneaking a peek a Lane in the next room. The spare room Carter showed her too after she had something to drink is open a crack, revealing her thin, sleeping figure. She really isn't okay.

"I saw her a month ago, and then she seemed herself," I admit, staring into the coffee. "Normally I would avoid her but she looked like she needed help."

Carter's thin lips pursed. "She does."

He leads me to the small kitchen table and we sit across from each other. I try to meet his eyes but I can't bring myself to. They're too much like Trevor's, and I've already burned bridges with Carter by not meeting him.

For a while, we're both silent. Carter sips his coffee but I can't bring myself to pick mine up. My hands tremble around the mug, no longer from cold but now from nerves. I can't keep quiet. I have to tell him. I have to let it out.

"Carter, I need-" I start, just as he says, "I have something to-"

We both stop. "You go ahead," I manage to say.

He nods and takes a breath, like he has to gear up to get the words out a second time. "I have something to ask you," he repeats slowly. "I don't really know how to say this but...I know Trevor wasn't a good person, Piper. I really do. We had so many falling outs...but it was all because of the drugs. If he had left them alone, he would have been the same brother I grew up with."

I nod, because I remember the small time I knew Trevor before the drugs. Everything in that short time was so different that it feels like a dream.

"My point is," he continues, "my parents never had a funeral for him. No service. Never asked anyone to come to his burial."

My words shake. "Not even you?"

He shakes his head. "They didn't think he was worthy of a funeral. And I haven't been to his grave. That's why I wanted to meet with you in New York. I thought maybe you would go with me. I want to let everything go."

I don't know how to respond. My hands are already on the table, waiting for me to use them to push away. To get out of this situation, this place, and forget it ever happened. But I'm here because that's not what I want. I force my hands to my lap.

"I don't think I should be that person," I say.

His brow furrows. "Why not?"

I try to hold back tears I didn't realize were already falling. "You don't really know what happened when he died, do you?"

"He died from an overdose," he deadpans.

My voice is hoarse. "That he made me give him." Carter's eyes go wide. "I didn't know it was too much. He did everything himself, he just made me...Carter, I'm so sorry," I cry, suddenly aware of Lane in the next room. I soften my voice. "I never meant to-"

"No," he says, holding his hand up. "It doesn't change anything, Piper. He's still dead because of his own actions."

"But I was the one-"

"Who did what he forced you to do," he interrupts. "I'm letting everything go. I really think you should come. Maybe you need to do the same," he adds quietly.

"I still don't think I'm the right person," I admit, my voice wavering.

Carter smiles but it wavers a little. "To be honest, I'm having trouble forgiving him. I thought that maybe if you could even consider it...that maybe I'd have an easier time accepting what happened." He shakes his head and sets his coffee mug down. "Maybe I'm just being ridiculous."

I watch the brown liquid swirl in my glass and try to force the words out of my mouth. "No, I understand," I reply. "I'm having trouble forgiving him too. It's like he's haunting me everywhere I go, but without having to do a single thing. He's just always there."

Carter nods. "He always seems to come around just when you think you've gotten rid of him."

"I think you're right," I reply. "I don't want you to be but I can't deny you have a point." And at the very least I could tell Dr. Moore I was trying to move on.

We agree to meet after Christmas, but before I go to Sasha's. I try not to think of the possibility of my parents saying no and focus on getting out of this town.

"You were going to ask me something?"

I look at the door cracked open, at the sleeping figure upon it. "What should I do about Lane?"

Carter sighs, but there's a hint of a smile on his face. "The last thing you're going to want to go do. Call her parents." My initial instinct is to bang my head off the table, mug included. "Does she have a cell phone?"

As I head for the spare bedroom, I try to think of alternatives to doing the one thing Lane would kill me for. She'd rather be arrested than face her parents initially for sure. Or I could ring her doorbell and run, leaving her with her parents. That would keep me out of it for the most part.

Instead, I check her jacket pockets and palm an old cell phone. I tiptoe out of the room with it and head into the kitchen. Carter looks up from the table, hopeful.

"Well," I say, clicking on the contact reading Mom, "are you ready for the worst intervention of your life?"