Travis held out his hand, peering down at his ring finger. “We did it, baby. I still can’t believe you’re my wife.”
“Believe it.” I beamed.
I reached out to Travis, pointed to his pocket, and then turned my hand over, opening my palm. He handed me my phone, and I pulled up the camera to snap a picture of my fresh ink. Travis helped me from the chair, careful to avoid my right side. I was sensitive to every movement that caused my jeans to rub against my raw skin.
After a short stop at the front counter, Travis let go of me long enough to push the door open for me, and then we walked outside to a waiting cab. My cell phone rang again. America.
“She’s going to lay on the guilt trip thick, isn’t she?” Travis said, watching me silence my phone. I wasn’t in the mood to endure another tongue-lashing.
“She’ll pout for twenty-four hours after she sees the pictures—then she’ll get over it.”
“Are you sure about that, Mrs. Maddox?”
I chuckled. “Are you ever going to stop calling me that? You’ve said it a hundred times since we left the chapel.”
He shook his head as he held the cab door open for me. “I’ll quit calling you that when it sinks in that this is real.”
“Oh, it’s real all right. I have wedding night memories to prove it.” I slid to the middle and then watched as he slid in next to me.
He leaned against me, running his nose up the sensitive skin of my neck until he reached my ear. “We sure do.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Road Home
Travis
Abby watched Las Vegas pass by her window. Just the sight of her made me want to touch her, and now that she was my wife, that feeling was amplified. But I was trying very hard not to make her regret her decision. Playing it cool used to be my superpower. Now I was dangerously close to being Shepley.
Unable to stop myself, I slid my hand over and barely touched her pinky finger. “I saw pictures of my parents’ wedding. I thought Mom was the most beautiful bride I’d ever see. Then I saw you at the chapel, and I changed my mind.”
She looked down at our fingers touching, intertwined her fingers in mine, and then looked up at me. “When you say things like that, Travis, it makes me fall in love with you all over again.” She nuzzled up against me, and then kissed my cheek. “I wish I could have known her.”
“Me, too.” I paused, wondering if I should say the thought that was in my head. “What about your mom?”
Abby shook her head, leaning into my arms. “She wasn’t all that great before we moved to Wichita. After we got there, her depression got worse. She just checked out. If I hadn’t met America, I would have been alone.”
She was already in my arms, but I wanted to hug my wife’s sixteen-year-old self, too. And her childhood self, for that matter. There was so much that had happened to her that I couldn’t protect her from.
“I . . . I know it’s not true, but Mick told me so many times that I ruined him. Both of them. I have this irrational fear that I’ll do the same to you.”
“Pigeon,” I scolded, kissing her hair.
“It’s weird though, right? That when I started playing, his luck went south. He said I took his luck. Like I had that power over him. It made for some seriously conflicting emotions for a teenage girl.”
The hurt in her eyes caused a familiar fire to come over me, but I quickly doused the flames with a deep breath. I wasn’t sure if seeing Abby hurt would ever make me feel anything less than a little crazy, but she didn’t need a hotheaded boyfriend. She needed an understanding husband. “If he had any fucking sense, he would have made you his lucky charm instead of his enemy. It really is his loss, Pidge. You’re the most amazing woman I know.”
She picked at her nails. “He didn’t want me to be his luck.”
“You could be my luck. I’m feeling pretty fucking lucky right now.”
She playfully elbowed me in the ribs. “Let’s just keep it that way.”
“I have not a single doubt that we will. You don’t know it yet, but you just saved me.”
Something sparked in Abby’s eyes, and she pressed her cheek against my shoulder. “I hope so.”
Abby
Travis hugged me to his side, letting go just long enough for us to move forward. We weren’t the only overly affectionate couple waiting in line at the check-in counter. It was the end of spring break, and the airport was packed.
Once we got our boarding passes, we made our way slowly through security. When we finally reached the front of the line, Travis kept setting off the detector, so the TSA agent made him take off his ring.
Travis grudgingly complied, but once we passed through security and sat on a nearby bench to put on our shoes, Travis grumbled a few inaudible swear words, and then relaxed.
“It’s okay, baby. It’s back on your finger,” I said, giggling at his overreaction.
Travis didn’t speak, only kissed my forehead before we left security for our gate. The other spring breakers appeared just as exhausted and happy as we were. And I spotted other arriving couples holding hands who looked just as nervous and excited as Travis and I were when we arrived in Vegas.
I grazed Travis’s fingertips with mine.
He sighed.
His response caught me off guard. It was heavy, and full of stress. The closer we got to the gate, the slower he walked. I worried about the reaction we’d face at home, too, but I was more worried about the investigation. Maybe he was thinking the same thing and didn’t want to talk to me about it.
At Gate Eleven, Travis sat next to me, keeping his hand in mine. His knee was bouncing, and he kept touching and tugging at his lips with his free hand. His three-day scruff twitched every time he moved his mouth. He was either freaking out on the inside, or he’d drunk a pot of coffee without me knowing.
“Pigeon?” he said finally.
Oh thank God. He’s going to talk to me about it.
“Yeah?”
He thought about what he might say, and then sighed again. “Nothing.”
Whatever it was, I wanted to fix it. But if he wasn’t thinking about the investigation or facing the aftermath of the fire, I didn’t want to bring it up. Not long after we took our seat, first class was being called to board. Travis and I stood with everyone else to get in line for economy.
Travis shifted from one foot to the other, rubbing the back of his neck and squeezing my hand. He so obviously wanted to tell me something. It was eating at him, and I didn’t know what else to do but squeeze his hand back.
When our boarding group began to form a line, Travis hesitated. “I can’t shake this feeling,” he said.
“What do you mean? Like a bad feeling?” I said, suddenly very nervous. I didn’t know if he meant the plane, or Vegas, or going home. Everything that could go wrong between our next step and our arrival back on campus flashed through my mind.
“I have this crazy feeling that once we get home, I’m going to wake up. Like none of this was real.” Concern shone in his eyes, making them glassy.
Of all the things to worry about, and he was worried about losing me, just as I worried about losing him. It was then, in that moment, that I knew we’d done the right thing. That yes, we were young, and yes, we were crazy, but we were as much in love as anyone. We were older than Romeo and Juliet. Older than my grandparents. It might not have been that long ago since we were children, but there were people with ten or more years of experience who still didn’t have it together. We didn’t have it all together, but we had each other, and that was more than enough.
When we returned, it was likely that everyone would be waiting for the breakdown, waiting for the deterioration of a couple married too young. Just imagining the stares and stories and whispers made my skin crawl. It might take a lifetime to prove to everyone that this works. We’d made so many mistakes, and undoubtedly we would make thousands more, but the odds were in our favor. We’d proven them all wrong before.
After a
tennis match of worries and reassurances, I finally wrapped my arms around my husband’s neck, touching my lips ever so slightly to his. “I’d bet my firstborn. That’s how sure I am.” This was a wager I wouldn’t lose.
“You can’t be that sure,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow, my mouth pulling to the side. “Wanna bet?”
Travis relaxed, taking his boarding pass from my fingers, and handing it to the attendant.
“Thank you,” she said, scanning it and then handing it back. She did the same to mine, and just as we had little more than twenty-four hours before, we walked hand in hand down the Jetway.
“Are you hinting at something?” Travis asked. He stopped. “You’re not . . . is that why you wanted to get married?”
I laughed, shook my head, and pulled him along. “God, no. I think we’ve taken a big enough step to last us a while.”
He nodded once. “Fair enough, Mrs. Maddox.” He squeezed my hand, and we boarded the plane for home.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Anniversary
Abby
Water beaded on my skin, mixing with the sunscreen and magnifying the texture of my tanned stomach. The sun beat down on us, and everyone else on the beach, making the heat dance in waves on top of the sand between the patches of brightly colored beach towels.
“Ma’am,” the waiter said, leaning down with two drinks. Sweat dripped off his dark skin, but he was smiling. “Charging to the room?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, taking my frozen strawberry margarita and signing the check.
America took hers and stirred the ice with her tiny straw. “This. Is. Heaven.”
We all deserved a little Heaven to recover from the last year. After attending dozens of funerals, and helping Travis deal with his guilt, we fielded more questions from investigators. The students who were at the fight kept Travis’s name out of it when speaking with the authorities, but rumors spread, and it took a long time for Adam’s arrest to be enough for the families.
It took a lot of convincing for Travis not to turn himself in. The only thing that seemed to hold him back was my begging for him not to leave me alone, and knowing Trent would be charged with misleading an investigation. The first six months of our marriage was far from easy, and we spent a lot of long nights arguing about what was the right thing to do. Maybe it was wrong for me to keep Travis from prison, but I didn’t care. I didn’t believe he was any more at fault than anyone who had chosen to be in that basement that night. I would never regret my decision, just like I would never regret looking straight into that detective’s eyes and lying my ass off to save my husband.
“Yes,” I said, watching the water climb up the sand and then recede. “We have Travis to thank. He was at the gym with as many clients as he could fit around his classes six days a week from five in the morning to ten o’clock at night. This was all him. It sure wasn’t my tutoring money that got us here.”
“Thank him? When he promised me a real wedding, I didn’t know he meant a year later!”
“America,” I scolded, turning to her. “Could you be more spoiled? We’re on a beach, drinking frozen margaritas in St. Thomas.”
“I guess it gave me some time to plan your bachelorette party and the renewal of your vows,” she said, taking a sip.
I smiled, turning to her. “Thank you. I mean it. And this is the best bachelorette party in the history of bachelorette parties.”
Harmony walked over and sat down in the lounge chair on the other side of me, her pixie short chestnut hair glistened in the sun. She shook the salt water out of it, making it feather out. “The water is so warm!” she said, pushing up her oversize sunglasses. “There is a guy over there teaching kids how to windsurf. He’s stupid hot.”
“Maybe you can talk him into being our stripper later?” America said, straight-faced.
Kara frowned. “America, no. Travis would be livid. Abby isn’t actually a bachelorette, remember?”
America shrugged, letting her eyes close behind her sunglasses. Although Kara and I had grown very close since I moved out, she and America still weren’t on the best of terms. Probably because both of them said exactly what they thought.
“We’ll blame it on Harmony,” America said. “Travis can’t get mad at her. He’s forever indebted to her for letting him into Morgan Hall that night you were fighting.”
“Doesn’t mean I want to be on the wrong end of a Maddox rage,” Harmony said, shuddering.
I scoffed. “You know he hasn’t lashed out in a long time. He’s got a handle on his anger now.”
Harmony and I had shared two classes that semester, and when I invited her to the apartment to study, Travis recognized her as the girl who’d let him into our dorm. Like Travis, her brother was also a member of Sigma Tau fraternity, so she was one of the few pretty girls on campus that Travis hadn’t slept with.
“Travis and Shepley will be here tomorrow afternoon,” America said. “We have to get our partying in tonight. You don’t think Travis is sitting at home doing nothing, do you? We’re going out and we’re going to have a damn good time whether you like it or not.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Just no strippers. And not too late. This wedding will actually have an audience. I don’t want to look hungover.”
Harmony lifted the flag next to her chair, and almost immediately a waiter came over.
“How may I help you, miss?”
“A piña colada, please?”
“Of course,” he said, backing away.
“This place is swank,” America said.
“And you wonder why it took us a year to save up for this. ”
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said anything. Trav wanted you to have the best. I get it. And it was nice of Mom and Dad to pay my way. I sure as hell wouldn’t have been able to come otherwise.”
I giggled.
“You promised me I could be a bridesmaid and do everything you made me miss last year. I see them paying as a wedding present and an anniversary present to you, and a birthday present to me all rolled into one. If you ask me, they got off cheap.”
“It’s still too much.”
“Abby, they love you like a daughter. Daddy is very excited about walking you down the aisle. Let them do this without ruining the spirit of it,” America said.
I smiled. Mark and Pam treated me like family. After my father landed me in a dangerous situation last year, Mark decided that I needed a new father—and nominated himself. If I needed help with tuition or books or a new vacuum cleaner, Mark and Pam showed up at my door. Helping me also gave them an excuse to visit America and me, and it was obvious that they enjoyed that the most.
Not only did I now have the unruly Maddox clan as family, but I had Mark and Pam as well. I’d gone from belonging to no one, to being a part of two amazing families that were incredibly important to me. At first, it made me feel anxious. I’d never had so much to lose before. But over time, I realized that my new family wasn’t going anywhere, and I learned how much good could come from misfortune.
“Sorry. I’ll try to just accept this graciously.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you!” Harmony said, taking her drink from the tray. She signed the bill and began sipping the fruity concoction. “I’m just so excited to be going to this one!”
“Me, too,” America said, glaring in my direction. She had barely forgiven me for getting married without her. And, honestly, I hoped she’d never try to pull the same move on me. But marriage was still a long way off for her.
She and Shepley were going to get their own apartment, but both decided that even though they were always around each other, America would stay in Morgan, and Shepley would move into Helms, a men’s dorm. Mark and Pam were happier about this arrangement. They loved Shepley but were worried that the stress of real-world bills and jobs would affect Shepley’s and America’s focus on school. America was struggling, even at the dorms.
“I just hope it goes smooth
ly. I hate the thought of standing in front of all those people staring at us.”
America breathed out a laugh. “Elvis wasn’t invited, but I’m sure it will still be beautiful.”
“I still can’t believe Elvis was at your wedding,” Harmony said, giggling.
“Not the dead one,” Kara deadpanned.
“He wasn’t invited this time,” I said, watching the children taking lessons celebrate windsurfing on their own.
“What was it like? Getting married in Vegas?” Harmony asked.
“It was . . .” I said, thinking about the moment we left, almost exactly a year earlier. “Stressful and frightening. I was worried. I cried. It was pretty much perfect.”
Harmony’s expression was one of combined disgust and surprise. “Sounds like it.”
Travis
“Fuck you,” I said, not amused.
“Oh, c’mon!” Shepley said, shaking with laughter. “You used to say I was the whipped one.”
“Fuck you again.”
Shepley turned off the ignition. He had parked the Charger on the far side of Cherry Papa’s parking lot. Home of the fattest, dirtiest strippers in town. “It’s not like you’re going to take one of them home.”
“I promised Pidge. No strippers.”
“I promised you a bachelor party.”
“Dude, let’s just go home. I’m full, tired, and we’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”
Shepley frowned. “The girls have been lying on a beach in St. Thomas all day, and now they’re probably partying it up in a club.”
I shook my head. “We don’t go to clubs without each other. She wouldn’t do that.”
“She would if America planned it.”
I shook my head again. “No, she fucking wouldn’t. I’m not going into the strip club. Either pick something else, or take me home.”
Shepley sighed, and squinted his eyes. “What about that?”
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