Shepley and I left in the Charger, heading to the parts store. A cold front had come through. I clenched the ends of my sleeves in my fists to help keep my hands warm.
“It’s a cold bitch today,” Shepley said.
“Getting there.”
“I think she’s going to like the puppy.”
“Hope so.”
After a few more blocks of silence, Shepley nodded his head. “I didn’t mean to insult Abby. You know that, right?”
“I know.”
“I know how you feel about her, and I really do hope it works out. I’m just nervous.”
“Yep.”
Shepley pulled into the parking lot of O’Reilly’s and parked, but he didn’t turn off the ignition. “She’s going on a date with Parker Hayes tonight, Travis. How do you think it’s going to go when he picks her up? Have you thought about it?”
“I’m trying not to.”
“Well, maybe you should. If you really want this to work, you need to stop reacting the way you want, and react the way that will work for you.”
“Like how?”
“Do you think it’s going to win you any points if you’re pouting while she’s getting ready, and then act like a dick to Parker? Or do you think she’ll appreciate it if you tell her how amazing she looks and tell her goodbye, like a friend would?”
“I don’t want to be just her friend.”
“I know that, and you know that, and Abby probably knows it, too . . . and you can be damn sure Parker knows it.”
“Do you have to keep saying that fuck stick’s name?”
Shepley turned off the ignition. “C’mon, Trav. You and I both know as long as you keep showing Parker he’s doing something to drive you nuts, he’s going to keep playing the game. Don’t give him the satisfaction, and play the game better than he does. He’ll show his ass, and Abby will get rid of him on her own.”
I thought about what he was saying, and then glanced over at him. “You . . . really think so?”
“Yes, now let’s get that part to Jim and get home before America wakes up and blows up my phone because she doesn’t remember what I told her when I left.”
I laughed and followed Shepley into the store. “He is a fuck stick, though.”
It didn’t take Shepley long to find the part he was looking for, and not much longer for him to replace it. In just over an hour, Shepley had installed the ignition module, started the truck, and had a sufficiently long visit with Dad. By the time we were waving goodbye as the Charger backed out of the driveway, it was just a few minutes after noon.
As Shepley predicted, America was already awake by the time we made it back to the apartment. She tried to act irritated before Shepley explained our absence, but it was obvious she was just glad to have him home.
“I’ve been so bored. Abby is still asleep.”
“Still?” I asked, kicking off my boots.
America nodded and made a face. “The girl likes her sleep. Unless she gets insanely drunk the night before, she sleeps forever. I’ve stopped trying to turn her into a morning person.”
The door creaked as I slowly pushed it open. Abby was on her stomach, in almost the same position she was in when I left, just on the other side of the bed. Part of her hair was matted against her face, the other in soft, caramel waves across my pillow.
Abby’s T-shirt was bunched around her waist, exposing her light blue panties. They were just cotton, not particularly sexy, and she looked comatose, but even so, seeing her crashed haphazardly on my white sheets with the afternoon sun pouring in through the windows, her beauty was indescribable.
“Pidge? You gonna get up today?”
She mumbled and then turned her head. I took a few more steps, deeper into the room.
“Pigeon.”
“Hep . . . merf . . . furfon . . . shaw.”
America was right. She wasn’t waking up anytime soon. I closed the door softly behind me, and then joined Shepley and America in the living room. They were picking at a plate of nachos America had made, watching something girly on TV.
“She up?” America asked.
I shook my head, sitting in the recliner. “Nope. She was talking about something, though.”
America smiled, her lips sealed to keep food from falling out. “She does that,” she said, her mouth full. “I heard you leave your bedroom last night. What was that about?”
“I was being an ass.”
America’s brows shot up. “How so?”
“I was frustrated. I pretty much told her how I felt and it was like it went in one ear and out the other.”
“How do you feel?” she asked.
“Tired at the moment.”
A chip flew at my face but fell short, landing on my shirt. I picked it up and popped it in my mouth, crunching the beans, cheese, and sour cream. It wasn’t half bad.
“I’m serious. What did you say?”
I shrugged. “I don’t remember. Something about being who she deserved.”
“Aw,” America said, sighing. She leaned away from me, in Shepley’s direction, with a wry smile. “That was pretty good. Even you have to admit.”
Shepley’s mouth pulled to one side; that was the only reaction she would get from him for that comment.