“You might want to get that.”
I looked down at the cell phone and sighed. “Or not.” Part of me needed that last fight, but part of me knew it would be time spent away from Abby. After she was attacked at the last one, there was no way I could concentrate if she came to this one without protection—and I couldn’t concentrate fully if she wasn’t there, either. The last fight of the year was always the biggest, and I couldn’t afford to have my head somewhere else.
“It could be important,” Abby said.
I held the phone to my ear. “What’s up, Adam?”
“Mad Dog! You’re gonna love this. It’s done. I got John fucking Savage! He’s planning to go pro next year! Chance of a goddamn lifetime, my friend! Five figures. You’ll be set for a while.”
“This is my last fight, Adam.”
The other end of the line was quiet. I could imagine his jaw working under the skin. More than once he’d accused Abby of threatening his cash flow, and I was sure he would blame her for my decision.
“Are you bringing her?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You should probably leave her at home, Travis. If this really is your last fight, I need you all in.”
“I won’t go without her, and Shep’s leaving town.”
“No fucking around this time. I mean it.”
“I know. I heard you.”
Adam sighed. “If you really won’t consider leaving her at home, maybe you could call Trent. That would probably set your mind at ease, and then you could concentrate.”
“Hmmm . . . that’s not a bad idea, actually,” I said.
“Think about it. Let me know,” Adam said, hanging up the phone.
Abby stared at me expectantly.
“It’s enough to pay rent for the next eight months. Adam got John Savage. He’s trying to go pro.”
“I haven’t seen him fight, have you?” Shepley asked, leaning forward.
“Just once in Springfield. He’s good.”
“Not good enough,” Abby said. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I can stay home, Trav.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“I don’t want you to get hit like you did last time because you’re worried about me.”
“No, Pidge.”
“I’ll wait up for you.” She smiled, but it was obviously forced, making me even more determined.
“I’m going to ask Trent to come. He’s the only one I’d trust so I can concentrate on the fight.”
“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Shepley grumbled.
“Hey, you had your chance,” I said, only half teasing.
Shepley’s mouth pulled to the side. He could pout all day long, but he dropped the ball at Hellerton, letting Abby get away from him like that. If he’d been paying attention, it would have never happened, and we all knew it.
America and Abby swore that it was a fluke accident, but I didn’t hesitate to tell him otherwise. He was watching the fight instead of Abby, and if Ethan had finished what he started, I would be in jail for murder. Shepley apologized to Abby for weeks, but then I took him aside and told him to knock it off. None of us liked reliving it every time his guilt got the best of him.
“Shepley, it wasn’t your fault. You pulled him off of me, remember?” Abby said, reaching around America to pat his arm. She turned to me. “When is the fight?”
“Next week sometime. I want you there. I need you there.” If I’d been any less of an asshole, I would have insisted she stay home, but it had already been established on numerous occasions that I wasn’t. My need to be around Abby Abernathy overruled any rational thought. It had always been that way, and I imagined it always would.
Abby smiled, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Then I’ll be there.”
I dropped Abby off at her final class, kissing her goodbye before meeting Shepley and America at Morgan. The campus was quickly emptying, and I finally resorted to smoking my cigarettes around the corner so I wouldn’t have to dodge a coed carrying luggage or laundry every three minutes.
I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and dialed Trenton’s number, listening to each ring with increasing impatience. Finally, his voice mail picked up. “Trent, it’s me. I need a huge favor. It’s time sensitive, so call me back ASAP. Later.”
I hung up, seeing Shepley and America pushing through the glass doors of the dorm, each holding two of her bags.
“Looks like you’re all set.”
Shepley smiled; America didn’t.
“They’re really not that bad,” I said, nudging her with my elbow. Her scowl didn’t disappear.
“She’ll feel better once we get there,” Shepley said, more to encourage his girlfriend than to convince me.
I helped them pack the trunk of the Charger, and then we waited for Abby to finish her midterm and find us in the parking lot.