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.”
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 f**k 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 f**k 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.”