“Travis, stop. I love you,” she said, using her thin fingers to smooth lines around my eyes. “This absurd standoff could have been over at Thanksgiving, but . . .”
“Wait . . . what?” I interrupted, leaning back.
“I was fully prepared to give in on Thanksgiving, but you said you were done trying to make me happy, and I was too proud to tell you that I wanted you back.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I was just trying to make it easier on you! Do you know how miserable I’ve been?”
Abby frowned. “You looked just fine after break.”
“That was for you! I was afraid I’d lose you if I didn’t pretend to be okay with being friends. I could have been with you this whole time? What the fuck, Pigeon?”
“I . . . I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry? I damn near drank myself to death, I could barely get out of bed, I shattered my phone into a million pieces on New Year’s Eve to keep from calling you . . . and you’re sorry?”
Abby bit her bottom lip and nodded, ashamed. “I’m so . . . so sorry.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said without hesitation. “Don’t ever do it again.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
I shook my head, grinning like an idiot. “I fucking love you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Panic
LIFE HAD RETURNED TO NORMAL—MAYBE MORE FOR Abby than for me. On the surface we were happy, but I could feel a wall of caution building around me. Not a second with Abby was taken for granted. If I looked over at her and wanted to touch her, I did. If she wasn’t at the apartment and I missed her, I went to Morgan. If we were at the apartment, she was in my arms.
Returning to school as a couple for the first time since the fall had the expected effect. As we walked around together, holding hands, laughing, and occasionally kissing—okay, more than occasionally—the gossip spiked to an all-time high. As always at this school, whispers and tabloid-worthy stories continued until another scandal rocked the campus.
On top of the unrest I already felt about my and Abby’s relationship, Shepley was growing increasingly irritable about the last fight of the year. I wasn’t far behind. We both depended on the winnings from that fight to fund our living expenses for the summer, not to mention part of the fall. Since I’d decided the last fight of the year was also my last fight for good, we would need it.
Spring break inched closer, but still no word from Adam. Shepley had finally heard through multiple lines of communication that Adam was lying low after the arrests following the most recent fight.
On the Friday before break, the campus mood felt lighter, even with the fresh batch of snow that had been dumped onto the state overnight. On our way to the cafeteria for lunch, Abby and I had barely escaped a public snowball fight; America, not so much.
We all chatted and laughed, waiting in line for trays of God-knows-what, and then sat at our regular seats. Shepley comforted America while I amused Brazil with the story of how Abby hustled my brothers on poker night. My phone buzzed, but it didn’t register until Abby pointed it out.
“Trav?” she said.
I turned, tuning everything out the second she said my name.
“You might want to get that.”
I looked down at the cell phone and sighed. “Or not.” Part of me needed that last fight, but part of me knew it would be time spent away from Abby. After she was attacked at the last one, there was no way I could concentrate if she came to this one without protection—and I couldn’t concentrate fully if she wasn’t there, either. The last fight of the year was always the biggest, and I couldn’t afford to have my head somewhere else.
“It could be important,” Abby said.
I held the phone to my ear. “What’s up, Adam?”
“Mad Dog! You’re gonna love this. It’s done. I got John fucking Savage! He’s planning to go pro next year! Chance of a goddamn lifetime, my friend! Five figures. You’ll be set for a while.”
“This is my last fight, Adam.”
The other end of the line was quiet. I could imagine his jaw working under the skin. More than once he’d accused Abby of threatening his cash flow, and I was sure he would blame her for my decision.
“Are you bringing her?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You should probably leave her at home, Travis. If this really is your last fight, I need you all in.”
“I won’t go without her, and Shep’s leaving town.”
“No fucking around this time. I mean it.”
“I know. I heard you.”
Adam sighed. “If you really won’t consider leaving her at home, maybe you could call Trent. That would probably set your mind at ease, and then you could concentrate.”
“Hmmm . . . that’s not a bad idea, actually,” I said.
“Think about it. Let me know,” Adam said, hanging up the phone.
Abby stared at me expectantly.
“It’s enough to pay rent for the next eight months. Adam got John Savage. He’s trying to go pro.”
“I haven’t seen him fight, have you?” Shepley asked, leaning forward.
“Just once in Springfield. He’s good.”
“Not good enough,” Abby said. I leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I can stay home, Trav.”
“No,” I said, shaking my head.
“I don’t want you to get hit like you did last time because you’re worried about me.”
“No, Pidge.”
“I’ll wait up for you.” She smiled, but it was obviously forced, making me even more determined.
“I’m going to ask Trent to come. He’s the only one I’d trust so I can concentrate on the fight.”
“Thanks a lot, asshole,” Shepley grumbled.
“Hey, you had your chance,” I said, only half teasing.
Shepley’s mouth pulled to the side. He could pout all day long, but he dropped the ball at Hellerton, letting Abby get away from him like that. If he’d been paying attention, it would have never happened, and we all knew it.
America and Abby swore that it was a fluke accident, but I didn’t hesitate to tell him otherwise. He was watching the fight instead of Abby, and if Ethan had finished what he started, I would be in jail for murder. Shepley apologized to Abby for weeks, but then I took him aside and told him to knock it off. None of us liked reliving it every time his guilt got the best of him.
“Shepley, it wasn’t your fault. You pulled him off of me, remember?” Abby said, reaching around America to pat his arm. She turned to me. “When is the fight?”
“Next week sometime. I want you there. I need you there.” If I’d been any less of an asshole, I would have insisted she stay home, but it had already been established on numerous occasions that I wasn’t. My need to be around Abby Abernathy overruled any rational thought. It had always been that way, and I imagined it always would.
Abby smiled, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Then I’ll be there.”