Walking Disaster

him. The rest of her life with him played out in my head, and it was all I could do to calm down. The mental image of tackling my temper and shoving it into a box helped.
    Abby placed her tray between America and Finch. An empty chair a few seats down was a better choice for me than attempting to carry on a conversation like I hadn’t just lost her. This was
going to suck, and I didn’t know what to do. So much time had been wasted playing games. Abby didn’t have a chance to even get to know me. Hell, even if she had, she was probably better
off with someone like Parker.
    “Are you okay, Trav?” Abby asked.
    “Me? Fine, why?” I asked, trying to get rid of the heavy feeling that settled in every muscle of my face.
    “You’ve just been quiet.”
    Several members of the football team approached the table and sat down, laughing loudly. Just the sounds of their voices made me want to punch a wall.
    Chris Jenks tossed a French fry onto my plate. “What’s up, Trav? I heard you bagged Tina Martin. She’s been raking your name through the mud today.”
    “Shut up, Jenks,” I said, keeping my eyes on my food. If I looked up at his ridiculous fucking face, I might have knocked him out of his chair.
    Abby leaned forward. “Knock it off, Chris.”
    I looked up at Abby, and for a reason I couldn’t explain, became instantly angry. What the fuck was she defending me for? The second she found out about Morgan, she was going to leave me.
She’d never talk to me again. Even though it was crazy, I felt betrayed. “I can take care of myself, Abby.”
    “I’m sorry, I . . .”
    “I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want you to be anything,” I snapped. Her expression was the final straw. Of course she didn’t want to be around me. I was an
infantile asshole that had the emotional control of a three-year-old. I shoved away from the table and pushed through the door, not stopping until I was sitting on my bike.
    The rubber grips on the handlebars whined under my palms as I twisted my hands back and forth. The engine snarled, and I kicked back the kickstand before taking off like a bat out of hell into
the street.
    I rode around for an hour, feeling no better than before. The streets were leading to one place, though, and even though it took me that long to give in and just go, I finally pulled into my
father’s driveway.
    Dad walked out of the front door and stood on the porch, giving a short wave.
    I took both of the porch stairs at once and stopped just short of where he stood. He didn’t hesitate to pull me against his soft, rounded side, before escorting me inside.
    “I was just thinking it was about time for a visit,” he said with a tired smile. His eyelids hung over his lashes a bit, and the skin beneath his eyes was puffy, matching the rest of
his round face.
    Dad checked out for a few years after Mom died. Thomas took on a lot more responsibilities than a kid his age should have, but we made do, and finally Dad snapped out of it. He never talked
about it, but he never missed a chance to make it up to us.
    Even though he was sad and angry for most of my formative years, I wouldn’t consider him a bad father, he was just lost without his wife. I knew how he felt, now. I felt maybe a fraction
for Pidge what Dad felt for Mom, and the thought of being without her made me feel sick.
    He sat on the couch and gestured to the worn-out recliner. “Well? Have a seat, would ya?”
    I sat, fidgeting while trying to figure out what I would say.
    He watched me for a while before taking a breath. “Something wrong, son?”
    “There’s a girl, Dad.”
    He smiled a bit. “A girl.”
    “She kinda hates me, and I kinda . . .”
    “Love her?”
    “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I mean . . . how do you know?”
    His smile grew wider. “When you’re talking about her with your old dad because you don’t know what else to do.”
    I sighed. “I just met her. Well, a month ago. I don’t think it’s love.”
    “Okay.”
    “Okay?”
    “I’ll take your word for it,” he said without judgment.
    “I just . . . I don’t think I’m good for her.”
    Dad leaned forward, then touched a couple of fingers to his lips.
    I continued. “I think she’s been burned by someone before. By someone like me.”
    “Like you.”
    “Yeah.” I nodded and sighed. The last thing I wanted was to admit to Dad what I’d been up to.
    The front door slammed against the wall. “Look who decided to come