“You said pick you up at five.”
I folded my arms across my chest. “I meant five in the morning!”
“Oh. I guess I should call Dad and let him know we won’t be staying after all.”
“Travis!” I wailed.
“I brought Shep’s car so we didn’t have to deal with our bags on the bike. There’s a spare bedroom you can crash in. We can watch a movie or—”
“I’m not staying at your dad’s!”
His face fell. “Okay. I’ll uh…I’ll see you in the morning.”
He took a step back and I shut the door, leaning against it. Every emotion I had weaved in and out of my insides, and I heaved an exasperated sigh. With Travis’s disappointed expression fresh on my mind, I pulled open the door and stepped out, seeing that he was slowly walking down the hall, dialing his phone.
“Travis, wait.” He flipped around and the hopeful look in his eyes made my chest ache. “Give me a minute to pack a few things.”
A relieved, appreciative smile spread across his face and he followed me to my room, watching me shove a few things in a bag from the doorway.
“I still love you, Pidge.”
I didn’t look up. “Don’t. I’m not doing this for you.”
He sucked in a breath. “I know.”
We rode in silence to his dad’s house. The car felt charged with nervous energy, and it was hard to sit still against the cold leather seats. Once we arrived, Trenton and Jim walked out onto the porch, all smiles. Travis carried our bags from the car, and Jim patted his back.
“Good to see ya, son.” His smiled broadened when he looked at me. “Abby Abernathy. We’re looking forward to dinner tomorrow. It’s been a long time since…Well. It’s been a long time.”
I nodded and followed Travis into the house. Jim rested his hand on his protruding belly and grinned. “I set you two up in the guest bedroom, Trav. I didn’t figure you would wanna fight with the twin in your room.”
I looked to Travis. It was difficult watching him struggle to speak. “Abby’s uh … she’s going to uh … going to take the guest room. I’m going to crash in mine.”
Trenton made a face. “Why? She’s been staying at your apartment, hasn’t she?”
“Not lately,” he said, desperately trying to avoid the truth.
Jim and Trenton traded glances. “Thomas’s room has been storage for years now, so I was going to let him take your room. I guess he can sleep on the couch,” Jim said, looking to the ratty, discolored cushions in the living room.
“Don’t worry about it, Jim. We were just trying to be respectful,” I said, touching his arm.
His laughter bellowed throughout the house, and he patted my hand. “You’ve met my sons, Abby. You should know it’s damn near impossible to offend me.”
Travis nodded toward the stairs, and I followed him. He pushed open the door with his foot and sat our bags on the floor, looking at the bed and then turning to me. The room was lined in brown paneling, the brown carpet beyond normal wear and tear. The walls were a dirty white, the paint peeling in places. I saw only one frame on the wall; enclosed was a picture of Jim and Travis’s mother. The background was a generic portrait-studio blue; the couple sported feathered hair and young, smiling faces. It must have been taken before they had the boys; neither of them could have been older than twenty.
“I’m sorry, Pidge. I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“Damn straight you will,” I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”
He sat on the bed and rubbed his face in frustration. “This is going to be a fucking mess. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“I know exactly what you were thinking. I’m not stupid, Travis.”
He looked up at me and smiled. “But you still came.”
“I have to get everything ready for tomorrow,” I said, opening the door.
Travis stood up. “I’ll help you.”