Walking Disaster (Beautiful Disaster #2)

I cupped the top of my head with both hands. “What happened last night wasn’t her way of saying she wanted to be together. She was saying goodbye.”


“You don’t know that.”

“I know her.”

“Abby cares about you.”

“She doesn’t love me.”

America took a breath, and any reservations she’d had about my temper vanished as a sympathetic expression softened her face. “You don’t know that, either. Listen, just give her some space. Abby isn’t like the girls you’re used to, Trav. She gets freaked out easy. The last time someone mentioned getting serious she moved an entire state away. This isn’t as bad as it seems.”

I looked up at America, feeling the tiniest bit hopeful. “You don’t think so?”

“Travis, she left because her feelings for you scare her. If you knew everything, it would be easier to explain, but I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“Because I promised Abby, and she’s my best friend.”

“Doesn’t she trust me?”

“She doesn’t trust herself. You, however, need to trust me.” America grabbed my hands and pulled me to stand. “Go take a long, hot shower, and then we’re going out to eat. Shepley told me it’s poker night at your dad’s.”

I shook my head. “I can’t do poker night. They’ll ask about Pigeon. Maybe we could go see Pidge?”

America blanched. “She won’t be home.”

“You guys going out?”

“She is.”

“With who?” It only took me a few seconds to figure it out. “Parker.”

America nodded.

“That’s why she thinks I won’t miss her,” I said, my voice breaking. I couldn’t believe she was going to do that to me. It was just cruel.

America didn’t hesitate to intercept another rage. “We’ll go to a movie, then, a comedy, of course, and then we’ll see if the go-kart place is still open, and you can run me off the track again.”

America was smart. She knew the go-kart track was one of the few places I hadn’t been with Abby. “I didn’t run you off the track. You just can’t drive worth a shit.”

“We’ll see,” America said, pushing me toward the bathroom. “Cry if you must. Scream. Get it all out of your system, and then we’ll have fun. It won’t last forever, but it will keep you busy for tonight.”

I turned around in the bathroom doorway. “Thanks, Mare.”

“Yeah, yeah . . . ,” she said, returning to Shepley.

I turned on the water, letting the steam warm the room before stepping in. The reflection in the mirror startled me. Dark circles under my tired eyes, my once confident posture sagging; I looked like hell.

Once in the shower, I let the water run over my face, keeping my eyes closed. The delicate outlines of Abby’s features were burned behind my eyelids. It wasn’t the first time; I saw her every time my eyes closed. Now that she was gone, it was like being stuck in a nightmare.

I choked back something welling up in my chest. Every few minutes, the pain renewed itself. I missed her. God, I missed her, and everything we’d gone through played over and over inside my head.

My palms flat against the wall of the tile, I clenched my eyes shut. “Please come back,” I said quietly. She couldn’t hear me, but it didn’t stop me from wishing she would come and save me from the terrible pain I felt without her there.

After wallowing in my despair under the water, I took a few deep breaths, and got myself together. The fact that Abby left shouldn’t have been such a surprise, even after what happened the night before. What America said made sense. Abby was just as new at this and as scared as I was. We both had a piss-poor way of dealing with our emotions, and I knew the second I realized I’d fallen for her that she was going to rip me apart.

The hot water washed away the anger and the fear, and a new optimism came over me. I wasn’t some loser that had no clue how to get a girl. Somewhere in my feelings for Abby, I’d forgotten that fact. It was time to believe in myself again, and remember that Abby wasn’t just a girl that could break my heart; she was also my best friend. I knew how to make her smile, and her favorite things. I still had a dog in this fight.


OUR MOODS WERE LIGHT WHEN WE RETURNED FROM THE go-kart track. America was still giggling about beating Shepley four times in a row, and Shepley was pretending to sulk.

Shepley fumbled with the key in the dark.

I held my cell phone in my hands, fighting the urge to call Abby for the thirteenth time.

“Why don’t you just call her already?” America asked.

“She’s still on the date, probably. I better not . . . interrupt,” I said, trying to push the thought of what might be happening from my mind.

“You shouldn’t?” America asked, genuinely surprised. “Didn’t you say you wanted to ask her to go bowling tomorrow? It’s rude to ask a girl on a date the day of, you know.”

Shepley finally found the keyhole and opened the door, letting us inside.

I sat on the couch, staring at Abby’s name on my call list.

“Fuck it,” I said, touching her name.

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