I leaned on her to walk up the stairs, and she laughed against my mouth when I finally figured out the door was already unlocked and shoved through it.
Midkiss, I froze. Abby was standing in the front room, holding Toto.
“Pigeon,” I said, stunned.
“Found it!” America said, jogging out of Shepley’s room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Abby’s expression morphed from surprise to anger. “It’s good to see you’re feeling like your old self, Trav.”
“We were just leaving,” America snarled. She grabbed Abby’s hand as they slid past me and Megan.
It took me a moment to react, but I made my way down the steps, for the first time noticing America’s Honda. A string of expletives ran through my mind.
Without thinking, I grabbed a fistful of Abby’s coat. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” she snapped, straightening her coat in a huff.
“What are you doing here?”
The packed snow crunched under America’s feet as she walked up behind Abby, and suddenly Shepley was beside me, his wary eyes fixed on his girlfriend.
Abby lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”
I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. “You can come here anytime you want, Pidge. I never wanted you to stay away.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.” She looked to the top of the stairs, where Megan of course stood to watch the show. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, turning away.
I grabbed her arm. “Wait. You’re mad?”
She yanked her coat from my grip. “You know”—she laughed once—“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”
She might have laughed, but she had hatred in her eyes. No matter what I did—moving on without her, or lying in my bed agonizing over her—she would have hated me. “I can’t win with you. I can’t win with you! You say you’re done . . . I’m fucking miserable over here! I had to break my phone into a million pieces to keep from calling you every minute of the damn day—I’ve had to play it off like everything is just fine at school so you can be happy . . . and you’re fucking mad at me? You broke my fuckin’ heart!” I screamed.
“Travis, you’re drunk. Let Abby go home,” Shepley said.
I grabbed Abby’s shoulders and pulled her closer, looking into her eyes. “Do you want me or not? You can’t keep doing this to me, Pidge!”
“I didn’t come here to see you.”
“I don’t want her,” I said, staring at her lips. “I’m just so fucking unhappy, Pigeon.” I leaned in to kiss her, but she grabbed my chin and held me away.
“You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth, Travis,” she said, disgusted.
I took a step back and lifted my shirt, wiping my mouth. Red streaks left behind made it impossible to deny. “I just wanted to forget. Just for one fuckin’ night.”
One tear spilled over onto Abby’s cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. “Then don’t let me stop you.”
She turned to walk away, but I grabbed her arm again.
A blond blur was suddenly in my face, lashing out and striking at me with small but vicious fists.
“Leave her alone, you bastard!”
Shepley grabbed America, but she pushed him away, turning to slap my face. The sound of her hand against my cheek was quick and loud, and I flinched with the noise. Everyone froze for a moment, shocked at America’s sudden rage.
Shepley grabbed his girlfriend again, holding her wrists, and pulling her to the Honda while she thrashed about.
She fought him violently, her blond hair whipping around as she attempted to get away.
“How could you? She deserved better from you, Travis!”
“America, STOP!” Shepley yelled, louder than I’d ever heard him.
Her arms fell to her side as she glared at Shepley in disgust. “You’re defending him?”
Although he was scared as hell, he stood his ground. “Abby broke up with him. He’s just trying to move on.”
America’s eyes narrowed, and she pulled her arm from his grip. “Well then, why don’t you go find a random WHORE”—she looked at Megan—“from the Red and bring her home to fuck, and then let me know if it helps you get over me.”
“Mare.” Shepley grabbed for her, but she evaded him, slamming the door as she sat behind the wheel. Abby opened the passenger door and sat next to her.
“Baby, don’t leave,” Shepley begged, leaning down into the window.
America started the car. “There is a right side and a wrong side here, Shep. And you are on the wrong side.”
“I’m on your side,” he said, his eyes desperate.
“Not anymore, you’re not,” she said, backing out.
“America? America!” Shepley yelled.
When the Honda was out of sight, Shepley turned around, breathing hard.
“Shepley, I’m—”
Before I could get a word out, Shepley reared back and launched his fist into my jaw.
I took the blow, touched my face, and then nodded. I deserved that.
“Travis?” Megan called from the stairs.
“I’ll take her home,” Shepley said.
I watched the taillights of the Honda get smaller as it took Abby farther away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Thanks.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE