Walking Disaster

baby.”
    “Hmmm?”
    Shepley kissed her forehead. “I’m going to help Travis with Jim’s truck. I’ll be back.”
    “Okay,” America said, falling back asleep before Shepley left the room. He slipped on the pair of sneakers that were in the living room and grabbed his keys.
    “You coming or what?” he asked.
    I trudged down the hall and into my bedroom, dragging ass like any man that had only four hours of sleep—and not great sleep at that. I slipped on a tank top, and then a hoodie sweatshirt,
and some jeans. Trying my best to walk softly, I gently turned the knob of my bedroom door, but paused before leaving. Abby’s back was to me, her breathing even, and her bare legs sprawled in
opposite directions. I had an almost uncontrollable urge to crawl in bed with her.
    “Let’s go!” Shepley called.
    I shut the door and followed him out to the Charger. We took turns yawning all the way to Dad’s, too tired for conversation.
    The gravel driveway crunched under the tires of the Charger, and I waved at Trenton and Dad before stepping out into the yard.
    Dad’s truck was parked in front of the house. I shoved my hands in the front pockets of my hoodie, feeling the chill in the air. Fallen leaves crunched under my boots as I walked across
the lawn.
    “Well, hello there, Shepley,” Dad said with a smile.
    “Hey, Uncle Jim. I hear you have an ignition problem.”
    Dad rested a hand on his round middle. “We think so . . . we think so.” He nodded, staring at the engine.
    “What makes you think that?” Shepley asked, rolling up his sleeves.
    Trenton pointed to the firewall. “Uh . . . it’s melted. That was my first clue.”
    “Good catch,” Shepley said. “Me and Trav will run up to the parts store and pick up a new one. I’ll put it in and you’ll be good to go.”
    “In theory,” I said, handing Shepley a screwdriver.
    He unscrewed the bolts of the ignition module and then pulled it off. We all stared at the melted casing.
    Shepley pointed to the bare spot where the ignition module was. “We’re going to have to replace those wires. See the burn marks?” he asked, touching the metal. “The wire
insulation is melted, too.”
    “Thanks, Shep. I’m gonna go shower. I’ve gotta get ready for work,” Trenton said.
    Shepley used the screwdriver to assist in a sloppy salute to Trenton, and then he threw it into the toolbox.
    “You boys look like you had a long night,” Dad said.
    Half of my mouth pulled up. “We did.”
    “How’s your young lady? America?”
    Shepley nodded, a wide grin creeping across his face. “She’s good, Jim. She’s still asleep.”
    Dad laughed once and nodded. “And your young lady?”
    I shrugged. “She’s got a date with Parker Hayes tonight. She’s not exactly mine, Dad.”
    Dad winked. “Yet.”
    Shepley’s expression fell. He was fighting a frown.
    “What’s this, Shep? You don’t approve of Travis’s pigeon?”
    Dad’s flippant use of Abby’s nickname caught Shepley off guard, and his mouth twitched, threatening a smile. “No, I like Abby just fine. She’s just the closest thing
America has to a sister. Makes me nervous.”
    Dad nodded emphatically. “Understandable. I think this one’s different, though, don’t you?”
    Shepley shrugged. “That’s kind of the point. Don’t really want Trav’s first broken heart to be America’s best friend. No offense, Travis.”
    I frowned. “You don’t trust me at all, do you?”
    “It’s not that. Well, it’s kind of that.”
    Dad touched Shepley’s shoulder. “You’re afraid, since this is Travis’s first attempt at a relationship, he’s going to screw it up, and that screws things up for
you.”
    Shepley grabbed a dirty rag and wiped his hands. “I feel bad for admitting it, but yeah. Even though I’m rooting for you, bro, I really am.”
    Trenton let the screen door slam when he jogged out of the house. He punched me in the arm before I even saw him raise a fist.
    “Later, losers!” Trenton stopped, and turned on his heels. “I didn’t mean you, Dad.”
    Dad offered a half smile and shook his head. “Didn’t think you did, son.”
    Trent smiled, and then hopped into his car—a dark red, dilapidated Dodge Intrepid. That car wasn’t even cool when we were in high school, but he loved it. Mostly because it was paid
off.
    A small black puppy barked, turning my attention to the house.
    Dad smiled, patting his thigh. “Well, c’mon, scaredy-cat.”
    The puppy took a