The gravel driveway crunched under the tires of the Charger, and I waved at Trenton and Dad before stepping out into the yard.
Dad’s truck was parked in front of the house. I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my hoodie, feeling the chill in the air. Fallen leaves crunched under my boots as I walked across the lawn.
“Well, hello there, Shepley,” Dad said with a smile.
“Hey, Uncle Jim. I hear you have an ignition problem.”
Dad rested a hand on his round middle. “We think so . . . we think so.” He nodded, staring at the engine.
“What makes you think that?” Shepley asked, rolling up his sleeves.
Trenton pointed to the firewall. “Uh . . . it’s melted. That was my first clue.”
“Good catch,” Shepley said. “Me and Trav will run up to the parts store and pick up a new one. I’ll put it in and you’ll be good to go.”
“In theory,” I said, handing Shepley a screwdriver.
He unscrewed the bolts of the ignition module and then pulled it off. We all stared at the melted casing.
Shepley pointed to the bare spot where the ignition module was. “We’re going to have to replace those wires. See the burn marks?” he asked, touching the metal. “The wire insulation is melted, too.”
“Thanks, Shep. I’m gonna go shower. I’ve gotta get ready for work,” Trenton said.
Shepley used the screwdriver to assist in a sloppy salute to Trenton, and then he threw it into the toolbox.
“You boys look like you had a long night,” Dad said.
Half of my mouth pulled up. “We did.”
“How’s your young lady? America?”
Shepley nodded, a wide grin creeping across his face. “She’s good, Jim. She’s still asleep.”
Dad laughed once and nodded. “And your young lady?”
I shrugged. “She’s got a date with Parker Hayes tonight. She’s not exactly mine, Dad.”
Dad winked. “Yet.”
Shepley’s expression fell. He was fighting a frown.
“What’s this, Shep? You don’t approve of Travis’s pigeon?”
Dad’s flippant use of Abby’s nickname caught Shepley off guard, and his mouth twitched, threatening a smile. “No, I like Abby just fine. She’s just the closest thing America has to a sister. Makes me nervous.”
Dad nodded emphatically. “Understandable. I think this one’s different, though, don’t you?”
Shepley shrugged. “That’s kind of the point. Don’t really want Trav’s first broken heart to be America’s best friend. No offense, Travis.”
I frowned. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
“It’s not that. Well, it’s kind of that.”
Dad touched Shepley’s shoulder. “You’re afraid, since this is Travis’s first attempt at a relationship, he’s going to screw it up, and that screws things up for you.”
Shepley grabbed a dirty rag and wiped his hands. “I feel bad for admitting it, but yeah. Even though I’m rooting for you, bro, I really am.”
Trenton let the screen door slam when he jogged out of the house. He punched me in the arm before I even saw him raise a fist.
“Later, losers!” Trenton stopped, and turned on his heels. “I didn’t mean you, Dad.”
Dad offered a half smile and shook his head. “Didn’t think you did, son.”
Trent smiled, and then hopped into his car—a dark red, dilapidated Dodge Intrepid. That car wasn’t even cool when we were in high school, but he loved it. Mostly because it was paid off.
A small black puppy barked, turning my attention to the house.
Dad smiled, patting his thigh. “Well, c’mon, scaredy-cat.”
The puppy took a couple of steps forward, and then backed into the house, barking.
“How’s he doing?” I asked.
“He’s pissed in the bathroom twice.”
I made a face. “Sorry.”
Shepley laughed. “At least he’s got the right idea.”
Dad nodded and waved with concession.
“Just until tomorrow,” I said.
“It’s fine, son. He’s been entertaining us. Trent enjoys him.”
“Good.” I smiled.
“Where were we?” Dad asked.
I rubbed my arm where it throbbed from Trent’s fist. “Shepley was just reminding me of what a failure he thinks I am when it comes to girls.”
Shepley laughed once. “You’re a lot of things, Trav. A failure is not one of them. I just think you have a long way to go, and between your and Abby’s tempers, the odds are against you.”
My body tensed, and I stood straight. “Abby doesn’t have a bad temper.”
Dad waved me away. “Calm down, squirt. He’s not bad-mouthing Abby.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Okay,” Dad said with a small smile. He always knew how to handle us boys when things got tense, and he usually tried to mollify us before we were too far gone.
Shepley threw the dirty rag on top of the toolbox. “Let’s go get that part.”
“Let me know how much I owe you.”
I shook my head. “I got it, Dad. We’re even for the dog.”
Dad smiled and started to pick up the mess Trenton left of the toolbox. “Okay, then. I’ll see you in a bit.”