I touched her hand, and she seemed to relax, but it didn't last for long before she bristled.

"You're related to her," she said. "I'm just the friend. Everyone is related but me. I'm an outsider."

I hooked my arm around her neck and pulled her into my chest, kissing her hair. "You'll be part of the family soon enough."

She pushed me away, another bothersome thought floating around in her pretty little head. "They're newlyweds, Shep."

"So?"

"Think about it. They're not going to want a roommate."

My eyebrows pulled in. What the h.e.l.l am I going to do?

As soon as the answer popped into my mind, I smiled. "Mare."

"Yeah?"

"We should get an apartment."

She shook her head. "We've talked about this."

"I know. I want to talk about it again. Travis and Abby eloping is the perfect excuse."

"Really?"

I nodded.

I watched patiently while the possibilities swam behind her eyes, the corners of her mouth curling up more every second.

"It's exciting to think about, but in reality-"

"It'll be perfect," I said.

"Deana will hate me even more."

"My mom doesn't hate you."

She eyed me, dubious. "Are you sure?"

"I know my mom. She likes you. A lot."

"Then let's do it."

I sat in disbelief for a moment and then reached for her. It was already surreal-the fact that, all weekend, she had been in the home where I'd grown up, and now, she was sitting on my bed. Since the day we'd met, I'd felt like reality had been altered. Miracles like America just didn't happen to me. Not only had my past and unbelievable present intertwined, but America Mason had just agreed to take the next step with me. Calling it a big weekend would be an understatement.

"I'm going to have to find a job," I said, trying to catch my breath. "I have a little money saved up from fights, but considering the fire, I don't see any fights happening anytime soon, if ever again."

America shook her head. "I wouldn't want you to go anyway, not after the other night. It's too dangerous, Shep. We're going to be attending funerals for weeks."

Like a bomb, her words blew away all the excitement from our discussion.

"I don't want to think about it."

"Don't you have a house meeting tomorrow?"

I nodded. "We're going to raise money for the families and do something at the house in honor of Derek, Spencer, and Royce. I still can't believe they're gone. It hasn't hit me yet, I guess."

America chewed on her lip and then put her hand on mine. "I'm so glad you weren't there." She shook her head. "It might be selfish, but it's all I can think about."

"It's not selfish. I've thought the same thing about you. If Dad hadn't insisted I bring you home this week ... we could have been there, Mare."

"But we weren't. We're here. Travis and Abby eloped, and we're moving in together. I want to think happy thoughts."

I began to ask a question but hesitated.

"What?"

I shook my head.

"Say it."

"You know how Travis and Abby are. What if they split up? Where would that leave you and me?"

"Probably letting one of them crash on our couch and listening to them argue in our living room until they got back together."

"You think they'll stay together?"

"I think it'll be rocky for a while. They're ... volatile. But Abby's different with Travis, and he's definitely different with her. I think they need each other in, like, the most genuine way. You know what I mean?"

I smiled. "I do."

She looked around my room, her eyes pausing on my baseball trophies and a picture of my cousins and me when I was around eleven.

"Did they just kick your a.s.s all the time?" she asked. "You were the little cousin of the Maddox brothers. That had to be just ... crazy."

"No," I said simply. "We were more like brothers than cousins. I was the youngest, so they protected me. Thomas sort of babied Travis and me. Travis always got us in trouble, and it would be his a.s.s. I was the peacekeeper, I guess, always pet.i.tioning for mercy." I laughed at the memories.

"I'm going to have to ask your mom about that sometime."

"About what?"

"How she and Diane ended up with Jack and Jim."

"Dad claims it happened with much finesse," I said, chuckling. "Mom says it was a train wreck."

"Sounds like us-Travis and Abby, and you and me." Her eyes sparkled.

Almost a year after I'd moved out, my bedroom was almost the same. My old computer was still gathering dust on the small wooden desk in the corner, the same books were on the shelves, and two awkward prom photos were kept in cheap frames on the nightstand. The only missing items were pictures and framed newspaper clippings of my football days that used to hang on the gray walls. High school felt like a lifetime ago. Any life without America felt like an alternate universe. Both the fire and Travis getting married had somehow solidified my feelings for America even more.

A warmth came over me that only happened when she was around. "So, I guess that means we're next," I said without thinking.

"Next for what?" Recognition pushed her eyebrows to her hairline, and she stood. "Shepley Walker Maddox, you just keep your diamonds to yourself. I am not anywhere near ready for that. Let's just play house and be happy, mmkay?"

"Okay," I said, holding up my hands. "I didn't mean soon. I just said next."

She sat. "Okay. Just so we're clear, I have Travis and Abby's second wedding to plan, and I don't have time for another one."

"Second wedding?"

"She owes me. We made a promise a long time ago that we would be each other's maid of honor. She is going to have a real bachelorette party and a real wedding, and she is going to let me plan it. All of it. It's mine," she said, not even a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Understood."

She threw her arms around my neck, her hair smothering me. I buried my face deeper into her golden locks, welcoming suffocation if it meant I was close to her.

"Your room is really clean, and so is your room at the apartment," she whispered. "I'm not a clean freak."

"I know."

"You might get sick of me."

"Not possible."

"You'll love me forever?"

"Longer."

She squeezed me tight, breathing out a content sigh, the kind I worked my a.s.s off for because it would make me so d.a.m.n happy when she did it. Her sweet, happy sighs were like the first day of summer, like anything was possible, like it was my superpower.

"Shepley!" Mom called.

I leaned back and took America by the hand, leading her out of my room, down the hall, and into the downstairs living room. My parents were sitting there, together in their worn love seat, holding hands. That furniture was the first they'd ever bought together, and they refused to get rid of it. The rest of the house was full of contemporary leather and modern rustic design, but they would spend most of their time in the lower level, down the hall from my room, on the itchy blue floral fabric of their first love seat.

"We're going to have to run an errand soon, Mom. We'll be back in time for dinner."

"Where are you going?" she asked.

America and I traded glances.

"Abby just called. She wanted us to stop by the apartment for a little bit," America said.

She and Abby were well versed in off-the-cuff half-truths. I imagined Abby had taught America well after she moved to Wichita. They'd had to do a lot of sneaking around when they were making underage trips to Vegas, so Abby could gamble and help her loser dad get out of debt.

Dad scooted forward on his seat. "Think you could hold on for a minute? We need to ask you a few questions."

"I just have to get my purse," America said, gracefully excusing herself.

Mom smiled, but I frowned.

"What is this about?"

"Have a seat, son," Dad said, patting the arm of the brown leather recliner adjacent to their love seat.

"I like her," Mom said. "I really, really like her. She's confident and strong, and she loves you that way, too."

"I hope so," I said.

"She does," Mom said with a knowing smile.

"So ..." I began. "What do you need to tell me that you couldn't say in front of her?"

My parents looked at one another, and then Dad patted Mom's knee with his free hand.

"Is it bad?" I asked.

They struggled to find the words, answering without speaking.

"Okay. How bad is it?"

"Uncle Jim called," Dad said. "The police were over at the house last night, asking questions about Travis. They think he is responsible for the fight in Keaton Hall. Do you know anything about it?"

"You can tell us," Mom said.

"I know about the fight," I said. "It wasn't the first one. But Travis wasn't there. You were right here when I called him. He was at the apartment."

Dad shifted in his seat. "He's not at the apartment now. Do you know where he is? Abby is missing as well."

"Okay," I said simply. I didn't want to answer either way.

Dad saw right through me. "Where are they, son?"

"Travis hasn't talked to Uncle Jim yet, Dad. Don't you think we should give him a chance first?"

Dad considered that. "Shepley ... did you have anything to do with those fights?"

"I've been to some of them. Most of them this year."

"But not this one," Mom clarified.

"No, Mom, I was here."

"That's what we said to Jim," Dad said. "And that's what we'll tell the police if they ask."

"You didn't leave? At any point during the night?" Mom asked.

"No. I got a text about the fight, but this weekend was important to America. I didn't even respond."

Mom relaxed.