She wrinkled her nose. “You didn’t have to babysit me.”
I traced the length of her arm with my finger. She was so warm. “I know. I guess I still feel bad about the other night.”
“I told you I didn’t care.”
“Is that why you slept on the recliner? Because you didn’t care?”
“I couldn’t fall asleep after your . . . friends left.”
“You slept just fine in the recliner. Why couldn’t you sleep with me?”
“You mean next to a guy who still smelled like the pair of barflies he had just sent home? I don’t know! How selfish of me!”
I recoiled, trying to keep the visual out of my head. “I said I was sorry.”
“And I said I didn’t care. Good night,” she said, turning over.
I reached across the pillow to put my hand on hers, caressing the insides of her fingers. I leaned over and kissed her hair. “As worried as I was that you’d never speak to me again . . . I think it’s worse that you’re indifferent.”
“What do you want from me, Travis? You don’t want me to be upset about what you did, but you want me to care. You tell America that you don’t want to date me, but you get so pissed off when I say the same thing that you storm out and get ridiculously drunk. You don’t make any sense.”
Her words surprised me. “Is that why you said those things to America? Because I said I wouldn’t date you?”
Her expression was a combination of shock and anger. “No, I meant what I said. I just didn’t mean it as an insult.”
“I just said that because I don’t want to ruin anything. I wouldn’t even know how to go about being who you deserve. I was just trying to get it worked out in my head.”
Saying the words made me feel sick, but they had to be said.
“Whatever that means. I have to get some sleep. I have a date tonight.”
“With Parker?”
“Yes. Can I please go to sleep?”
“Sure,” I said, shoving myself off the bed. Abby didn’t say a word as I left her behind. I sat in the recliner, switching on the television. So much for keeping my temper in check, but damn that woman got under my skin. Talking to her was like having a conversation with a black hole. It didn’t matter what I said, even the few times that I was clear about my feelings. Her selective hearing was infuriating. I couldn’t get through to her, and being direct just seemed to make her angry.
The sun came up half an hour later. Despite my residual anger, I was able to drift off.
A few moments later, my phone rang. I scrambled to find it, still half asleep, and then held it to my ear. “Yeah?”
“Asshat!” Trenton said, loud in my ear.
“What time is it?” I asked, looking at the TV. Saturday morning cartoons were on.
“Ten something. I need your help with Dad’s truck. I think it’s the ignition module. It’s not even turning over.”
“Trent,” I said through a yawn. “I don’t fucking know about cars. That’s why I have a bike.”
“Then ask Shepley. I have to go to work in an hour, and I don’t want to leave Dad stranded.”
I yawned again. “Fuck, Trent, I pulled an all-nighter. What’s Tyler doing?”
“Get your ass over here!” he yelled before hanging up.
I tossed my cell to the couch and then stood, looking at the clock on the television. Trent wasn’t far off when he guessed the time. It was 10:20.
Shepley’s door was closed, so I listened for a minute before I knocked twice and popped my head in. “Hey. Shep. Shepley!”
“What?” Shepley said. His voice sounded like he’d swallowed gravel and chased it with acid.
“I need your help.”
America whimpered but didn’t stir.
“With what?” Shepley asked. He sat up, grabbing a T-shirt off the floor and slipping it over his head.
“Dad’s truck didn’t start. Trent thinks it’s the ignition.”
Shepley finished getting dressed and then leaned over America. “Going to Jim’s for a few hours, baby.”
“Hmmm?”
Shepley kissed her forehead. “I’m going to help Travis with Jim’s truck. I’ll be back.”
“Okay,” America said, falling back asleep before Shepley left the room. He slipped on the pair of sneakers that were in the living room and grabbed his keys.
“You coming or what?” he asked.
I trudged down the hall and into my bedroom, dragging ass like any man that had only four hours of sleep—and not great sleep at that. I slipped on a tank top, and then a hoodie sweatshirt, and some jeans. Trying my best to walk softly, I gently turned the knob of my bedroom door, but paused before leaving. Abby’s back was to me, her breathing even, and her bare legs sprawled in opposite directions. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to crawl in bed with her.
“Let’s go!” Shepley called.
I shut the door and followed him out to the Charger. We took turns yawning all the way to Dad’s, too tired for conversation.