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When we reached my door, he reached for my hand. “It was really nice to meet you.” Then, to my horror, he brought my hand to his lips and kissed it.
I pulled my hand away. “You mentioned that. Have a good day, Brandon.”
Chapter Nineteen
Karma
Travis
THE HEELS OF MY BOOTSwere planted against the hot asphalt at the main intersection in our tiny college town. The hum of my Harley’s engine helped me relax. It was easy to forget while driving around town on my bike, even if my muscles were aching and exhausted from a full load of clients at Iron E.
Abby had been damn near euphoric since our date, but I couldn’t help but feel like something was off. Parker Hayes’s parents might have owned Biasetti’s, and it might have been the place Parker had taken Abby for their first date, but the second we sat down, Abby was the giggling, witty, sarcastic, natural beauty I’d taken to the pizza parlor on our first non-date. It was like we were just college students again; no bills to worry about, no federal agents sniffing around our apartment.
Even so, we knew we were lucky. Adam was waiting for a pre-preliminary hearing, knowing his freedom was temporary. I was taking my wife on dates and pretending like the worst problem we had was Abby and Camille getting along.
The light turned green, so I picked up my feet the same time I twisted the throttle, clicking through each gear like the speed limit was for everyone else. Another workday was behind me, and so was my sophomore year of college. I had more time to hang out at home with my new wife; no papers to write, no juggling time with her with my new job and homework.
Work … home … Pigeon. Sounded like Heaven to me—if I didn’t end up getting handcuffed and escorted out my front door by federal agents. That scenario was always in the back of my mind.
I tried to remember the summer after my freshman year of college, a lot of drinking and fucking—no worries about a life sentence locked away from Abby, or any worries at all. But looking back, it was one long waste of time. Not a single girl or night stood out.
Abby made every moment mean something. Realizing that I’d just met her eight months before made me have momentary freak outs that none of it was real.
We’d been through so much crazy shit in a small amount of time, and somehow ended up together and happy. Some days I felt like I was waiting for reality to kick me in the balls.
The gravel in Dad’s drive crunched under the wheels of the Harley, and I pushed down on the kickstand as the engine cut off.
Dad stepped out onto the porch, greeting me like he did every time I visited, but this time Trenton stood with him, holding his once-casted arm with his free hand.
“Well, hey there,” Dad said with a warm smile. His cheeks pushed up, narrowing his eyes. “Good to see you. Come in … come in.”
I patted Dad on the shoulder as I passed, and then nodded to Trenton.
“Hey, pussy,” I said.
Trenton just nodded.
I made my way down the short hall and turned into the living room, falling onto the couch.
It banged against the wall, but Dad didn’t mention it. He just sat in his recliner and pushed back, letting himself rock while he waited for me to tell him whatever was on my mind.
Trenton sat beside me—carefully—seeming more fragile than I’d ever seen him.
I frowned. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” he grunted. “I’ll live.”
“I’m serious. You look like shit. You’re moving even slower than you were.”
“Thanks, dick head,” he grumbled.
I looked to Dad. “Is it just me?”
“No, I’ve told him,” Dad said. “I was hoping you’d say something.”
Trenton leaned back and groaned, letting his head fall against the couch cushions. “Fine. I’m dragging ass. I just haven’t been feeling great. But on top of being a cripple, I’m not going to get sick. I refuse.”
“Don’t be a fuckin’ idiot, Trent. Ignoring it is going to make it worse. Especially when your body is already working hard to heal,” I said.
