Travis left Ethan’s limp body on the hood of the car to sprint toward us. Shepley pulled me to the parking lot, ripping open his door. I jumped into the back seat, anxiously waiting for them both to get in. Cars flew from their spots and out of the driveway, screeching to a halt when a second police car blocked the drive.
Travis and Shepley jumped into their seats, and Shepley cursed when he saw the trapped cars backing from the only exit. He slammed the car into drive, and the Charger bounced as it jumped the curb. He spun out over the grass, and we flew between two buildings, bouncing again when he hit the road behind the school.
The tires squealed and the engine snarled when Shepley slammed his foot on the accelerator. I slid across the seat into the wall of the cab when we took a turn, bumping my already sore elbow. The streetlights streaked across the window as we raced to the apartment, but it seemed like an hour had passed by the time we pulled into the parking lot.
Shepley threw the Charger into park, and turned off the ignition. The boys opened their doors in silence, and Travis reached into the back seat, lifting me into his arms.
“What happened? Holy shit, Trav, what happened to your face?” America said, running down the stairs.
“I’ll tell you inside,” Shepley said, guiding her to the door.
Travis carried me up the stairs, through the living room and down the hall without a word, setting me on his bed. Toto pawed at my legs, jumping onto the bed to lick my face.
“Not now, buddy,” Travis said in a hushed voice, taking the puppy to the hall and shutting the door.
He kneelt in front of me, touching the frayed edges of my sleeve. His eye was in the beginning stages of a bruise, red and swollen. The angry skin above it was cut and wet with blood. His lips were smeared with scarlet, and the hide had been ripped away from some of his knuckles. His once-white T-shirt was now soiled with a combination of blood, grass and dirt.
I touched his eye and he winced, pulling away from my hand. “I’m so sorry, Pigeon. I tried to get to you. I tried …” He cleared his throat of the anger and worry that choked him. “I couldn’t get to you.”
“Will you ask America to take me back to Morgan?” I said.
“You can’t go back there tonight. The place is crawling with cops. Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I sucked in a faltering breath, trying to ward off any more tears. He felt bad enough.
Travis stood up and opened the door.
“Where are you going?” I asked.
“I’ve gotta get a shower. I’ll be right back.”
America shoved past him, sitting beside me on the bed, pulling me into her chest. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there!” she cried.
“I’m fine,” I said, wiping my tear stained face.
Shepley knocked on the door as he entered, bringing me a short glass half full of whiskey.
“Here,” he said, handing it to America. She cupped my hands around it and nudged me.
I tipped back my head, letting the liquid flow down my throat. My face compressed as the whiskey burned its way to my stomach. “Thanks,” I said, handing the glass back to Shepley.
“I should have gotten to her sooner. I didn’t even realize she was gone. I’m sorry, Abby. I should’ve …”
“It’s not your fault, Shep. It’s not anyone’s fault.”
“It’s Ethan’s fault,” he seethed. “That sick bastard was dry-fucking her against the wall.”
“Baby!” America said, appalled. She pulled me to her side.
“I need another drink,” I said, shoving my empty glass at Shepley.
“Me, too,” Shepley said, returning to the kitchen.
Travis walked in with a towel around his waist, holding a cold can of beer against his eye. America left the room without a word as Travis slipped on his boxers, and then he grabbed his pillow. Shepley brought four glasses this time, all full to the brim with amber liquor. We all knocked back the whiskey without hesitation.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” America said, kissing my cheek.
Travis took my glass, setting it on the nightstand. He watched me for a moment and then walked over to his closet, pulling a T-shirt off the hanger and tossing it to the bed.