We rode in silence to his dad’s house. The car felt charged with nervous energy, and it was hard to sit still against the cold leather seats. Once we arrived, Trenton and Jim walked out onto the porch, all smiles. Travis carried our bags from the car, and Jim patted his back.

“Good to see ya, Son.” His smiled broadened when he looked at me. “Abby Abernathy. We’re looking forward to dinner tomorrow. It’s been a long time since…Well. It’s been a long time.”

I nodded and followed Travis into the house. Jim rested his hand on his protruding belly and grinned. “I set you two up in the guest bedroom, Trav. I didn’t figure you would wanna fight with the twin in your room.”

I looked to Travis. It was difficult watching him struggle to speak. “Abby’s uh…she’s going to uh…going to take the guest room. I’m going to crash in mine.”

Trenton made a face. “Why? She’s been staying at your apartment, hasn’t she?”

“Not lately,” he said, desperately trying to avoid the truth.

Jim and Trenton traded glances. “Thomas’ room has been storage for years now, so I was going to let him take your room. I guess he can sleep on the couch,” Jim said, looking to the ratty, discolored cushions in the living room.

“Don’t worry about it, Jim. We were just trying to be respectful,” I smiled, touching him arm.

His laughter bellowed throughout the house, and he patted my hand. “You’ve met my sons, Abby. You should know it’s damn near impossible to offend me.”

Travis nodded toward the stairs, and I followed him. He pushed open the door with his foot and sat our bags on the floor, looking at the bed and then turning to me. The room was lined in brown paneling, the brown carpet beyond normal wear and tear. The walls were a dirty white, the paint peeling in places. I saw only one frame on the wall, enclosed was a picture of Jim and Travis’ mother. The background was a generic portrait-studio blue, sporting feathered hair and young, smiling faces. It must have been taken before they had the boys, neither of them could have been older than twenty.

“I’m sorry, Pidge. I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“Damn straight you will,” I said, pulling my hair into a ponytail. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.”

He sat on the bed and rubbed his face in frustration. “This is going to be a fucking mess. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I know exactly what you were thinking. I’m not stupid, Travis.”

He looked up at me and smiled. “But you still came.”

“I have to get everything ready for tomorrow,” I said, opening the door.

Travis stood up. “I’ll help you.”

We peeled a mountain of potatoes, cut up vegetables, set out the turkey to thaw, and started the pie crusts. The first hour was more than uncomfortable, but when the twins arrived, everyone seemed to congregate in the kitchen. Jim told stories about each of his boys, and we laughed about tales of earlier disastrous Thanksgivings when they attempted to do something other than order pizza.

“Diane was a hell of a cook,” Jim mused. “Trav doesn’t remember, but there was no sense trying after she passed.”

“No pressure, Abby,” Trenton chuckled, grabbing a beer from the fridge. “Let’s get out the cards. I want to try to make back some of my money that Abby took.”

Jim waved his finger at his son. “No poker this weekend, Trent. I brought down the dominoes, go set those up. No betting, dammit. I mean it.”

Trenton shook his head. “All right, old man, all right.” Travis’ brothers meandered from the kitchen, and Trent followed, stopping to look back. “C’mon, Trav.”

“I’m helping Pidge.”

“There’s not much more to do, Baby,” I said. “Go ahead.”

His eyes softened at my words, and he touched my hip. “You sure?”

I nodded and he leaned over to kiss my cheek, squeezing my hip with his fingers before following Trenton into the game room.

Jim watched his sons file out of the doorway, shaking his head and smiling. “This is incredible what you’re doing, Abby. I don’t think you realize how much we all appreciate it.”

“It was Trav’s idea. I’m glad I could help.”

His large frame settled against the counter, taking a swig of his beer while he pondered his next words. “You and Travis haven’t talked much. You having problems?”

I squeezed the dish soap into the sink as it filled with hot water, trying to think of something to say that wasn’t a bald-faced lie. “Things are a little different, I guess.”

“That’s what I thought. You have to be patient with him. Travis doesn’t remember much about it, but he was close to his mom, and after we lost her he was never the same. I thought he’d grow out of it, you know, with him being so young. It was hard on all of us, but Trav…he quit trying to love people after that. I was surprised that he brought you here. The way he acts around you, the way he looks at you; I knew you were somethin’ special.”

I smiled, but kept my eyes on the dishes I was scrubbing.

“Travis’ll have a hard time. He’s going to make a lot of mistakes. He grew up around a bunch of motherless boys and a lonely, grouchy old man for a father. We were all a little lost after Diane died, and I guess I didn’t help the boys cope the way I should have.

“I know it’s hard not to blame him, but you have to love him, anyway, Abby. You’re the only woman he’s loved besides his mother. I don’t know what it’ll do to him if you left him, too.”

I swallowed back the tears and nodded, unable to reply. Jim rested his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “I’ve never seen him smile the way he does when he’s with you. I hope all my boys have an Abby one day.”

His footsteps faded down the hallway and I gripped the edge of the sink, trying to catch my breath. I knew spending the holiday with Travis and his family would be difficult, but I didn’t think my heart would be broken all over again. The men joked and laughed in the next room as I washed and dried the dishes, putting them away. I cleaned the kitchen and then washed my hands, making my way to the stairs for the night.

Travis grabbed my hand. “It’s early, Pidge. You’re not going to bed, are ya?”

“It’s been a long day. I’m tired.”

“We were getting ready to watch a movie. Why don’t you come back down and hang out?”

I looked up the stairs and then down to his hopeful smile. “Okay.”

He led me by the hand to the couch, and we sat together as the opening credits rolled.

“Shut of that light, Taylor,” Jim ordered.

Travis reached his arm above me, resting his arm on the back of the couch. He was trying to keep up pretenses while appeasing me. He had been very careful not to take advantage of the situation, and I found myself conflicted, both grateful and disappointed. Sitting so close to him, smelling the mixture of tobacco and his cologne, it was very difficult for me to keep my distance, both physically and emotionally. Just as I had feared, my resolve was wavering and I struggled to block out everything Jim had said in the kitchen.

Half-way through the movie, the front door flew open and Thomas rounded the corner, bags in hand.

“Happy Thanksgiving!” he said, setting his luggage on the floor.

Jim stood up and hugged his oldest son, and everyone but Travis stood to greet him.

“You’re not going to say hi to Thomas?” I whispered.

He didn’t look at me when he spoke, watching his family hug and laugh. “I got one night with you. I’m not going to waste a second of it.”

“Hi there, Abby. It’s good to see you again,” Thomas smiled.

Travis touched my knee with his hand and I looked down, and then to Travis. Noticing my expression, Travis took his hand off my leg and interlocked his fingers in his lap.

“Uh oh. Trouble in paradise?” Thomas asked.

“Shut up, Tommy,” Travis grumbled.

The mood in the room shifted, and I felt all eyes on me, waiting for an explanation. I smiled nervously and took Travis’ hand into both of mine.

“We’re just tired. We’ve been working all evening on the food,” I said, leaning my head against Travis’ shoulder.

He looked down at our hands and then squeezed, his eyebrows pulling in a bit.

“Speaking of tired, I’m exhausted,” I breathed. “I’m gonna head to bed, Baby.” I looked to everyone else. “Good night, guys.”

“Night, Sis,” Jim said.

Travis’ brothers all bid me goodnight, and I headed up the stairs.

“I’m gonna turn in, too,” I heard Travis say.

“I bet you are,” Trenton teased.

“Lucky bastard,” Tyler grumbled.

“Hey. We’re not going to talk about your sister like that,” Jim warned.

My stomach sank. The only real family I’d had in years was America’s parents, and although Mark and Pam had always looked out for me with true kindness, they were borrowed. The six unruly, foul-mouthed, loveable men downstairs had welcomed me with open arms, and tomorrow I would tell them goodbye for the last time.

Travis caught the bedroom door before it closed and then froze. “Did you want me to wait in the hall while you dressed for bed?”

“I’m going to hop in the shower. I’ll just get dressed in the bathroom.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “All right. I’ll make a pallet, then.”

I nodded, making my way to the bathroom. I scrubbed myself raw in the dilapidated shower, focusing on the water stains and soap scum to fight the overwhelming dread I felt for both the night and the morning. When I returned to the bedroom, Travis dropped a pillow on the floor on his make-shift bed. He offered a weak smile before leaving me to take a turn in the shower.

I crawled into bed, pulling the covers to my chest, trying to ignore the blankets on the floor. When Travis returned, he stared at the pallet with the same sadness that I did, and then turned off the light, situating himself on his pillow.