CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Forget
“TRENT’S CALLING AGAIN! ANSWER YOUR DAMN PHONE!” Shepley yelled from the living room.
I kept my cell on top of the television. The farthest point from my bedroom in the apartment.
The first torturous days without Abby, I locked it in the glove box of the Charger. Shepley brought it back in, arguing that it should be in the apartment in case my dad called. Unable to deny that logic, I agreed, but only if it stayed on the TV.
The urge to pick it up and call Abby was maddening otherwise.
“Travis! Your phone!”
I stared up at the white ceiling, thankful that my other brothers had gotten the hint, and felt annoyed that Trenton hadn’t. He’d kept me busy or drunk at night, but was under the impression he had to also call me during every break while he was at work. I felt I was on some sort of Maddox suicide watch.
Two and a half weeks into winter break, the urge to call Abby had turned into need. Any access at all to my phone seemed like a bad idea.
Shepley pushed open the door and threw the small, black rectangle into the air. It landed on my chest.
“Jesus, Shep. I told you . . .”
“I know what you said. You have eighteen missed calls.”
“All Trent?”
“One is from Panty Wearers Anonymous.”
I picked up the phone from my stomach, straightened my arm, and then opened my hand, letting the hard plastic fall to the floor. “I need a drink.”
“You need a shower. You smell like shit. You also need to brush your damn teeth, shave, and put deodorant on.”
I sat up. “You talk a lot of shit, Shep, but I seem to remember doing your laundry and making you soup for three entire months after Anya.”
He sneered. “At least I brushed my teeth.”
“I need you to schedule another fight,” I said, falling back onto the mattress.
“You just had one two nights ago, and another a week before that. Numbers were down because of break. Adam won’t schedule another until classes resume.”
“Then bring in the locals.”
“Too risky.”
“Call Adam, Shepley.”
Shepley walked over to my bed, picked up my cell phone, clicked a few buttons, and then threw the phone back onto my stomach. “Call him yourself.”
I held up the phone to my ear.
“Asshat! What’ve you been doing? Why haven’t you answered your phone? I wanna go out tonight!” Trenton said.
I narrowed my eyes at the back of my cousin’s head, but he left my room without looking back.
“I don’t feel like it, Trent. Call Cami.”
“She’s a bartender. It’s New Year’s Eve. We can go see her though! Unless you have other plans . . .”
“No. I don’t have other plans.”
“You just wanna lay there and die?”
“Pretty much.” I sighed.
“Travis, I love you little brother, but you are being a huge p-ssy. She was the love of your life. I get it. It sucks. I know. But like it or not, life’s gotta go on.”
“Thank you, Mr. Rogers.”
“You aren’t old enough to know who that even is.”
“Thomas made us watch reruns, remember?”
“No. Listen. I get off at nine. I’m gonna pick you up at ten. If you aren’t dressed and ready, and I mean showered and shaved ready, I’m going to call a bunch of people and tell them you’re having a party at your house with six free kegs and hookers.”
“Damn it, Trenton, don’t.”
“You know I will. Last warning. Ten o’clock, or by eleven you’ll have guests. Ugly ones.”
I groaned. “I f*cking hate you.”
“No you don’t. See you in ninety minutes.”
The phone grated in my ear before it hung up. Knowing Trenton, he was probably calling from his boss’s office, kicked back with his feet on the desk.
I sat up, looking around the room. The walls were empty, devoid of the pictures of Abby that had once crowded the white paint. The sombrero hung above my bed again, proudly displayed after the shame of being replaced by the framed black-and-white photo of Abby and me.
Trenton was really going to make me do this. I imagined myself sitting at the bar, the world celebrating around me, ignoring the fact that I was miserable and—according to Shepley and Trenton—being a p-ssy.
Last year I danced with Megan and ended up taking home Kassie Beck, who would’ve been a good one to keep on the list had she not thrown up in the hall closet.
I wondered what plans Abby had for the night but tried not to allow my mind to wander too far into the realm of who she might be meeting. Shepley hadn’t mentioned America having plans. Unsure if that was being kept from me on purpose, pushing the issue just seemed too masochistic, even for me.
The night table drawer squeaked when I pulled it open. My fingers padded across the bottom and paused at the corners of a small box. Carefully I pulled it out, holding it in my hands against my chest. My chest rose and fell with a sigh, and then I opened the box, wincing at the sight of the sparkling diamond ring inside. There was only one finger that belonged inside that white gold circle, and with each passing day, that dream seemed less and less possible.
I knew when I bought the ring that it would be years before I gave it to Abby, but it made sense to keep it just in case the perfect moment happened to arise. Knowing it was there gave me something to look forward to, even now. Inside that box was the little bit of hope I had left.
After putting away the diamond, and giving myself a long mental pep talk, I finally trudged down the hall to the bathroom, intentionally keeping my eyes from my reflection in the mirror. The shower and shave didn’t improve my mood, and neither (I would later point out to Shepley) did brushing my teeth. I put on a buttoned-up black shirt and blue jeans, and then slipped on my black boots.
Shepley knocked on my door and walked in, dressed and ready to go as well.
“You’re going?” I asked, buckling my belt. I’m not sure why I was surprised. Without America there, he wouldn’t have plans with anyone other than us.
“Is that okay?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I just . . . I guess you and Trent worked this out before.”
“Well, yeah,” he said, skeptical and maybe a little amused that I had just figured it out.
The Intrepid’s horn honked outside, and Shepley pointed to the hallway with his thumb. “Let’s roll.”
I nodded once and followed him out. Trenton’s car smelled like cologne and cigarettes. I popped a Marlboro in my mouth and lifted up my ass so I could get into my pocket for a lighter.
“So, the Red’s packed, but Cami told the door guy to let us in. They’ve got a live band, I guess, and pretty much everyone is home. Should be a good one.”
“Hanging out with our drunken, loser high school classmates in a dead college town. Score,” I grumbled.
Trenton smiled. “I got a friend coming. You’ll see.”
My eyebrows pulled in. “Tell me you didn’t.”
A few people were huddled outside the door, waiting for people to leave so they could enter. We slipped past them, ignoring their complaints while we paid and walked straight in.
A table sat by the entrance, once full of New Year’s Eve party hats, glasses, Glow Sticks, and kazoos. The freebies had been mostly picked through, but it didn’t stop Trenton from finding a ridiculous pair of glasses that were shaped into the numbers of the new year. Glitter was all over the floor, and the band was playing “Hungry Like the Wolf.”
I glowered at Trenton, who pretended not to notice. Shepley and I followed my older brother to the bar, where Cami was de-capping bottles and shaking drinks at full speed, pausing only momentarily to type in numbers into the register or write down an addition to someone’s tab. Her tip jars were overflowing, and she had to shove down the greenbacks into the glass every time someone added a bill.
When she saw Trenton, her eyes lit up. “You made it!” Cami grabbed three bottles of beer, popped the tops, and sat them on the bar in front of him.
“I said I would.” He smiled, leaning over the counter to peck her lips.
That was the end of their conversation, as she quickly turned to slide another beer bottle down the bar and strained to hear another order.
“She’s good,” Shepley said, watching her.
Trenton smiled. “She damn sure is.”
“Are you . . . ?” I began.
“No,” Trent said, shaking his head. “Not yet. I’m working on it. She’s got some a*shole college boy in Cali. He just needs to piss her off one last time and she’s going to figure out what a pecker head he is.”
“Good luck with that,” Shepley said, taking a swig of his beer.
Trenton and I intimidated a small group enough for them to leave their table, so we nonchalantly commandeered it to start our night of drinking and people watching.
Cami took care of Trenton from afar, sending over a waitress regularly with full shot glasses of tequila and beer bottles. I was glad it was my fourth shot of Cuervo when the second 1980s ballad of the night began.
“This band sucks ass, Trent,” I yelled over the noise.
“You just don’t appreciate the legacy of hair bands!” he yelled back. “Hey. Looky there,” he said, pointing to the dance floor.
A redhead sauntered across the crowded space, a glossed smile brightening her pale face.
Trenton stood up to hug her, and her smile grew wider. “Hey, T! How’ve you been?”
“Good! Good! Working. You?”
“Great! I’m living in Dallas, now. Working at a PR firm.” Her eyes scanned our table, to Shepley and then to me. “Oh my God! Is this your baby brother? I used to babysit you!”
My eyebrows pulled together. She had double Ds and curves like a 1940s pinup model. I was sure if I had spent any time with her in my formative years, I would have remembered.
Trent smiled. “Travis, you remember Carissa, don’t you? She graduated with Tyler and Taylor.”
Carissa held out her hand, and I shook it once. I put the filter end of a cigarette between my front teeth, and flicked the lighter. “I don’t think I do,” I said, sticking the nearly empty pack in my front shirt pocket.
“You weren’t very old.” She smiled.
Trenton gestured to Carissa. “She just went through a bad divorce with Seth Jacobs. You remember Seth?”
I shook my head, already tired of the game Trenton was playing.
Carissa took the full shot glass that was in front of me and slurped it dry, and then she sidestepped until she was next to me. “I heard you’ve gone through a rough time lately, too. Maybe we could keep each other company tonight?”
By the look in her eyes, I could see she was drunk . . . and lonely. “Not looking for a babysitter,” I said, taking a drag.
“Well, maybe just a friend? It’s been a long night. I came here alone because all of my girlfriends are married now, ya know?” She giggled nervously.
“Not really.”
Carissa looked down, and I felt a small bit of guilt. I was being a dick, and she hadn’t done anything to deserve that from me.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t really wanna be here.”
Carissa shrugged. “Me, either. But I didn’t want to be alone.”
The band stopped playing, and the lead singer began counting down from ten. Carissa looked around, and then back to me, her eyes glossing over. Her line of sight fell to my lips, and then in unison the crowd screamed, “HAPPY NEW YEAR!”
The band played a rough version of “Auld Lang Syne,” and then Carissa’s lips smashed into mine. My mouth moved against hers for a moment, but her lips were so foreign, so different from what I was used to, it only made Abby’s memory more vivid, and the realization that she was gone more painful.
I pulled away and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.
“I’m so sorry,” Carissa said, watching me leave the table.
I pushed through the crowd to the men’s bathroom and locked myself in the only stall. I pulled out my phone and held it in my hands, my vision blurry and the rotten twang of tequila on my tongue.
Abby’s probably drunk, too, I thought. She wouldn’t care if I called. It’s New Year’s Eve. She might even be waiting for my call.
I scrolled over the names in my address book, stopping on Pigeon. I turned over my wrist, seeing the same inked into my skin. If Abby wanted to talk to me, she would have called. My chance had come and gone, and I told her at Dad’s I would let her move on. Drunk or not, calling her was selfish.
Someone knocked on the stall door. “Trav?” Shepley asked. “You okay?”
I unlocked the door and stepped outside, my phone still in my hand.
“Did you call her?”
I shook my head, and then looked to the tile wall across the room. I reared back, and then launched my phone, watching it shatter into a million pieces and scatter on the floor. Some poor bastard standing at the urinal jumped, his shoulders flying up to his ears.
“No,” I said. “And I’m not going to.”
Shepley followed me back to the table without a word. Carissa was gone, and three new shots were waiting for us.
“I thought she might get your mind off things, Trav, I’m sorry. It always makes me feel better to bag a really hot chick when I’ve been where you’re at,” Trenton said.
“Then you haven’t been where I’m at,” I said, slamming the tequila to the back of my throat. I stood up quickly, grabbing the edge of the table for stability. “Time for me to go home and pass out, boys.”
“You sure?” Trenton asked, looking mildly disappointed.
After Trenton got Cami’s attention long enough to say goodbye, we made our way to the Intrepid. Before he started the car, he looked over at me.
“You think she’ll ever take you back?”
“No.”
“Then maybe it’s time you accept that. Unless you don’t want her in your life at all.”
“I’m trying.”
“I mean when classes start. Pretend it’s like it was before you saw her naked.”
“Shut up, Trent.”
Trenton turned over the engine and put the car in reverse. “I was just thinking,” he said, turning the wheel, and then shoving the shifter into drive, “that you were happy when you guys were friends, too. Maybe you could go back to that. Maybe you thinking you can’t is why you’re so miserable.”
“Maybe,” I said, staring out the window.
THE FIRST DAY OF SPRING SEMESTER FINALLY ARRIVED. I hadn’t slept all night, tossing and turning, both dreading and eagerly anticipating seeing Abby again. Regardless of my sleepless night, I was determined to be all smiles, never letting on how much I’d suffered, to Abby or anyone else.
At lunch, my heart nearly exploded out of my chest when I saw her. She looked different, but the same. The difference was that she seemed like a stranger. I couldn’t just walk up to her and kiss her or touch her like before. Abby’s big eyes blinked once when she saw me, and I smiled and winked back, sitting at the end of our usual table. The football players were busy bitching about their loss to State, so I tried to relieve their angst by telling them some of my more colorful experiences over break, like watching Trenton salivate over Cami, and the time that his Intrepid broke down and we were almost arrested for public intoxication while walking home.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Finch hug Abby to his side, and for a moment I wondered if she wished I would go away, or if she might be upset.
Either way, I hated not knowing.
Throwing the last bite of something deep-fried and disgusting into my mouth, I tossed my tray and walked up behind Abby, resting my hands on her shoulders.
“How’s your classes, Shep?” I asked, willing my voice not to sound anything but casual.
Shepley’s face pinched. “First day sucks. Hours of syllabi and class rules. I don’t even know why I show up the first week. How about you?”
“Eh . . . it’s all part of the game. How ’bout you, Pidge?” I tried not to let the tension in my shoulders affect my hands.
“The same.” Her voice was small, distant.
“Did you have a good break?” I asked, playfully swaying her from side to side.
“Pretty good.”
Yeah. This was awkward as f*ck.
“Sweet. I’ve got another class. Later.” I walked out of the cafeteria quickly, reaching for the Marlboro box in my pocket before I even shouldered through the metal doors.
The next two classes were torture. The only place that felt like a safe haven was my bedroom, away from campus, away from everything that reminded me that I was alone, and away from the rest of the world, which was continuing on, not giving a shit that I was in so much pain it was palpable. Shepley kept telling me it wouldn’t be so bad after a while, but it didn’t seem to be letting up.
I met my cousin in the parking lot in front of Morgan Hall, trying hard not to stare at the entrance. Shepley seemed on edge and didn’t talk much on the ride to the apartment.
When he pulled into his parking spot, he sighed. I debated whether or not to ask him if he and America were having problems, but I didn’t think I could handle his shit and mine.
I grabbed my backpack from the backseat and pushed the door open, stopping only long enough to unlock the door.
“Hey,” Shepley said, shutting the door behind him. “You all right?”
“Yeah,” I said from the hallway, not turning around.
“That was kind of awkward in the cafeteria.”
“I guess,” I said, taking another step.
“So, uh . . . I should probably tell you something I overheard. I mean . . . hell, Trav, I don’t know if I should tell you or not. I don’t know if it’ll make it worse or better.”
I turned around. “Overheard from who?”
“Mare and Abby were talking. It was . . . mentioned that Abby’s been miserable all break.”
I stood in silence, trying to keep my breathing even.
“Did you hear what I said?” Shepley asked, his brows pulling together.
“What does that mean?” I asked, throwing my hands up. “She’s been miserable without me? Because we’re not friends anymore? What?”
Shepley nodded. “Definitely a bad idea.”
“Tell me!” I yelled, feeling myself shake. “I can’t . . . I can’t keep feeling like this!” I threw my keys down the hall, hearing a loud crack when they made contact with the wall. “She barely acknowledged me today, and you’re telling me she wants me back? As a friend? The way it was before Vegas? Or is she just miserable in general?”
“I don’t know.”
I let my bag fall to the floor and kicked it in Shepley’s general direction. “Wh-why are you doing this to me, man? Do you think I’m not suffering enough, because I promise you, it’s too much.”
“I’m sorry, Trav. I just thought I’d wanna know . . . if it were me.”
“You’re not me! Just f*cking . . . leave it alone, Shep. Leave it the hell alone.” I slammed my door and sat on my bed, my head resting on my hands.
Shepley cracked open the door. “I’m not trying to make it worse, if that’s what you think. But I knew if you found out later, you would have kicked my ass for not telling you. That’s all I’m sayin’.”
I nodded once. “Okay.”
“You think . . . you think if maybe you focused on all the bullshit you had to endure with her, that’d make it easier?”
I sighed. “I’ve tried. I keep coming back to the same thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Now that it’s over, I wish I could have all the bad stuff back . . . just so I could have the good.”
Shepley’s eyes bounced around the room, trying to think of something else comforting to say, but he was clearly all out of advice. His cell phone beeped.
“It’s Trent,” Shepley said, reading the display screen. His eyes lit up. “You want to grab some drinks with him at the Red? He gets off at five today. His car broke down and he wants you to take him to see Cami. You should go, man. Take my car.”
“All right. Let him know I’m comin’.” I sniffed, and wiped my nose before standing up.
Sometime between me leaving the apartment and pulling into the gravel lot of the tattoo parlor Trenton worked at, Shepley had alerted Trenton to my shitty day. Trenton gave it away when he insisted on going straight to the Red Door as soon as he slid into the passenger seat of the Charger, instead of wanting to go home to change first.
When we arrived, we were alone except for Cami, the owner, and some guy stocking Cami’s bar, but it was the middle of the week—prime college bar time and coin beer night. It didn’t take long for the room to fill with people.
I was already lit by the time Lexi and some of her friends had made a drive-by, but it wasn’t until Megan stopped by that I even bothered to look up.
“Looking pretty sloppy, Maddox.”
“Nah,” I said, trying to get my numb lips to form around my words.
“Let’s dance,” she whined, tugging on my arm.
“I don’t think I can,” I said, swaying.
“I don’t think you should,” Trenton said, amused.
Megan bought me a beer and took the stool next to mine. Within ten minutes, she was pawing at my shirt, and not so subtly touching my arms, and then my hands. Just before closing, she had given up her stool to stand next to me—or more like straddle my thigh.
“So I didn’t see the bike outside. Did Trenton drive you?”
“Nope. I brought Shepley’s car.”
“I love that car,” she cooed. “You should let me drive you home.”
“You wanna drive the Charger?” I asked, slurring.
I glanced over to Trenton, who was stifling a laugh. “Probably not a bad idea, little brother. Be safe . . . in every way.”
Megan pulled me off the stool, and then out of the bar into the parking lot. She wore a sequined tube top with a jean skirt and boots, but she didn’t seem to mind the cold—if it was cold. I couldn’t tell.
She giggled as I threw my arm around her shoulders to help steady myself as I walked. When we reached the passenger side of Shepley’s car, she stopped giggling.
“Some things never change, huh, Travis?”
“Guess not,” I said, staring at her lips.
Megan wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in, not even hesitating to stick her tongue into my mouth. It was wet and soft, and vaguely familiar.
After a few minutes of playing grab ass and trading spit, she hiked her leg up, wrapping it around me. I grabbed her thigh, and rammed my pelvis into hers. Her ass slammed against the car door, and she moaned into my mouth.
Megan always liked it rough.
Her tongue made a trail down my neck, and it was then that I noticed the cold, feeling the warmth left behind by her mouth cool quickly from the winter air.
Megan’s hand reached between us, and she grabbed my dick, smiling that I was right where she wanted me to be. “Mmmmm, Travis,” she hummed, biting my lip.
“Pigeon.” The word came out muffled as I crashed my mouth against hers. At that stage of the night, it was easy enough to pretend.
Megan giggled. “What?” In true Megan fashion, she didn’t demand an explanation when I didn’t respond. “Let’s go to your apartment,” she said, grabbing the keys from my hand. “My roommate is sick.”
“Yeah?” I asked, pulling on the door handle. “You really wanna drive the Charger?”
“Better me than you,” she said, kissing me one last time before leaving me for the driver’s side.
While Megan drove, she laughed and talked about her break all while opening my jeans and reaching inside. It was a good thing I was drunk, because I hadn’t been laid since Thanksgiving. Otherwise, by the time we reached the apartment, Megan would have had to catch a cab and call it a night.
Halfway home, the empty fishbowl flashed in my mind. “Wait a sec. Wait a sec,” I said, pointing down the street. “Stop at the Swift Mart. We gotta pick up some . . .”
Megan reached into her purse and pulled out a small box of condoms. “Gotcha covered.”
I leaned back and smiled. She really was my kind of girl.
Megan pulled up into Shepley’s parking spot, having been to the apartment enough times to know. She jogged around in tiny steps, trying to hurry along in her stilettos.
I leaned on her to walk up the stairs, and she laughed against my mouth when I finally figured out the door was already unlocked and shoved through it.
Midkiss, I froze. Abby was standing in the front room, holding Toto.
“Pigeon,” I said, stunned.
“Found it!” America said, jogging out of Shepley’s room.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
Abby’s expression morphed from surprise to anger. “It’s good to see you’re feeling like your old self, Trav.”
“We were just leaving,” America snarled. She grabbed Abby’s hand as they slid past me and Megan.
It took me a moment to react, but I made my way down the steps, for the first time noticing America’s Honda. A string of expletives ran through my mind.
Without thinking, I grabbed a fistful of Abby’s coat. “Where are you going?”
“Home,” she snapped, straightening her coat in a huff.
“What are you doing here?”
The packed snow crunched under America’s feet as she walked up behind Abby, and suddenly Shepley was beside me, his wary eyes fixed on his girlfriend.
Abby lifted her chin. “I’m sorry. If I knew you were going to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”
I shoved my hands in my coat pockets. “You can come here anytime you want, Pidge. I never wanted you to stay away.”
“I don’t want to interrupt.” She looked to the top of the stairs, where Megan of course stood to watch the show. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, turning away.
I grabbed her arm. “Wait. You’re mad?”
She yanked her coat from my grip. “You know”—she laughed once—“I don’t even know why I’m surprised.”
She might have laughed, but she had hatred in her eyes. No matter what I did—moving on without her, or lying in my bed agonizing over her—she would have hated me. “I can’t win with you. I can’t win with you! You say you’re done . . . I’m f*cking miserable over here! I had to break my phone into a million pieces to keep from calling you every minute of the damn day—I’ve had to play it off like everything is just fine at school so you can be happy . . . and you’re f*cking mad at me? You broke my f*ckin’ heart!” I screamed.
“Travis, you’re drunk. Let Abby go home,” Shepley said.
I grabbed Abby’s shoulders and pulled her closer, looking into her eyes. “Do you want me or not? You can’t keep doing this to me, Pidge!”
“I didn’t come here to see you.”
“I don’t want her,” I said, staring at her lips. “I’m just so f*cking unhappy, Pigeon.” I leaned in to kiss her, but she grabbed my chin and held me away.
“You’ve got her lipstick on your mouth, Travis,” she said, disgusted.
I took a step back and lifted my shirt, wiping my mouth. Red streaks left behind made it impossible to deny. “I just wanted to forget. Just for one f*ckin’ night.”
One tear spilled over onto Abby’s cheek, but she quickly wiped it away. “Then don’t let me stop you.”
She turned to walk away, but I grabbed her arm again.
A blond blur was suddenly in my face, lashing out and striking at me with small but vicious fists.
“Leave her alone, you bastard!”
Shepley grabbed America, but she pushed him away, turning to slap my face. The sound of her hand against my cheek was quick and loud, and I flinched with the noise. Everyone froze for a moment, shocked at America’s sudden rage.
Shepley grabbed his girlfriend again, holding her wrists, and pulling her to the Honda while she thrashed about.
She fought him violently, her blond hair whipping around as she attempted to get away.
“How could you? She deserved better from you, Travis!”
“America, STOP!” Shepley yelled, louder than I’d ever heard him.
Her arms fell to her side as she glared at Shepley in disgust. “You’re defending him?”
Although he was scared as hell, he stood his ground. “Abby broke up with him. He’s just trying to move on.”
America’s eyes narrowed, and she pulled her arm from his grip. “Well then, why don’t you go find a random WHORE”—she looked at Megan—“from the Red and bring her home to f*ck, and then let me know if it helps you get over me.”
“Mare.” Shepley grabbed for her, but she evaded him, slamming the door as she sat behind the wheel. Abby opened the passenger door and sat next to her.
“Baby, don’t leave,” Shepley begged, leaning down into the window.
America started the car. “There is a right side and a wrong side here, Shep. And you are on the wrong side.”
“I’m on your side,” he said, his eyes desperate.
“Not anymore, you’re not,” she said, backing out.
“America? America!” Shepley yelled.
When the Honda was out of sight, Shepley turned around, breathing hard.
“Shepley, I’m—”
Before I could get a word out, Shepley reared back and launched his fist into my jaw.
I took the blow, touched my face, and then nodded. I deserved that.
“Travis?” Megan called from the stairs.
“I’ll take her home,” Shepley said.
I watched the taillights of the Honda get smaller as it took Abby farther away, feeling a lump form in my throat. “Thanks.”