“Yeah,” he said. His eyes lost focus, and I could see that he wasn’t. I knew exactly what it was like to get lost in a bad memory, and even over a year later, just one mention of the accident had sent Trenton down the rabbit hole.

“I’ve got a bottle of Crown at my apartment and some lunch meat. Let’s drink until we throw up ham sandwiches.”

One corner of Trenton’s mouth turned up. “That sounds pretty awesome.”

“Doesn’t it? Let’s go. See you tomorrow, Hazel!” I called.

Trenton followed me to my apartment, and I went straight to the liquor cabinet. “Crown and Coke or just Crown?” I called from the kitchen.

“Just Crown,” he said from behind me. I jumped, and then laughed. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Trenton managed a small smile. “Sorry.”

I flipped the bottle in the air with my left hand and caught it with my right, and then poured double shots into two tumblers.

Trenton’s smile got a little wider. “It’s pretty cool having a personal bartender.”

“I’m surprised I can still do it. I’ve had too many days off. By the time I get back to work on Wednesday, I’ll probably forget everything.” I handed him his shot glass and clinked my glass to his. “To Crown.”

“To f**king up,” he said, his smile fading.

“To surviving,” I said, pressing the glass against my lips and throwing my head back.

Trenton did the same. I took his empty glass, and poured us another. “Do we want teeth numb drunk, or porcelain praying drunk?”

“I’ll know when I get there.”

I handed him the glass, picked up the bottle, and led Trenton to the love seat. I held up my glass. “To second jobs.”

“To spending more time with awesome people.”

“To brothers who make life impossible.”

“I’ll drink to that shit,” Trenton said, throwing back his shot. “I love my brothers. I’d do anything for them, but sometimes I feel like the only one who gives a shit about Dad, you know?”

“Sometimes I feel like the only one that doesn’t give a shit about mine.”

Trenton looked up from his empty glass.

“He’s old school. Don’t talk back. Don’t have an opinion unless it’s his. Don’t cry when he beats the shit out of my mom.”

Trenton’s eyes tightened.

“He doesn’t do it anymore. But he used to. Fucked with us kids, you know? That she stayed. That she could still love him.”

“Goddamn. That’s awful.”

“Your parents loved each other?” I asked.

The smallest hint of a smile touched Trenton’s lips. “Like crazy.”

My expression mirrored his. “I love that.”

“So . . . now?”

“Everyone acts like nothing happened. He’s better now, so whoever doesn’t pretend that she didn’t have to spend extra time in the mornings covering bruises is the bad guy. So . . . I’m the bad guy.”

“No, you’re not. If someone hurt my mom . . . even if it was my dad . . . I’d never forgive him. Has he apologized?”

“Never,” I said without hesitation. “But he should. To her. To us. To all of us.”

He held out his empty glass this time. I poured a single, and we held them out again.

“To loyalty,” he said.

“To running away,” I said.

“I’ll drink to that shit,” he said, and we both knocked back the drinks.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, and rested my cheek on my knee, looking over at Trenton. His eyes were shadowed by the brim of his red baseball cap. He had brothers who were identical twins, but the youngest four could have been quadruplets.

Trenton reached for my shirt and pulled me into his chest. He folded me into his arms and squeezed. I noticed on the inside of his left forearm was thick script that spelled DIANNE, and a few inches down, in much smaller, cursive font that read MACKENZIE.

“Is that . . .”

Trenton turned over his arm to get a better look. “Yeah.” We sat in silence for a moment, and then he continued. “The rumors aren’t true, ya know.”

I sat up and waved him away. “No, I know.”

“I just couldn’t go back there, with everyone looking at me like I’d killed her.”

I shook my head. “No one thinks that.”

“Mackenzie’s parents do.”

“They need to blame someone, Trent. Someone else.”

Trenton’s phone buzzed. He lifted it, took one look at the screen, and smiled.

“Hot date?”

“Shepley. Travis has a fight tonight. At Jefferson.”

“Good,” I said. “Every time they schedule one on a night the Red is open, it’s empty.”

“Really?”

“I guess you wouldn’t know that, since you go to all of them.”

“Not all of them. I’m not going tonight.”

I raised an eyebrow.

“I have better things to do than watch Travis beat somebody’s ass. Again. Besides, he doesn’t have any moves I haven’t seen.”

“Right. You’ve taught him everything he knows, I’m sure.”

“One third of everything he knows. That little shit. We beat his ass so many times growing up, he picked up on everything to keep from getting pummeled. Now he could beat all of us . . . at the same time. No wonder no one can beat him.”

“I’ve seen you and Travis fight. You won.”

“When?”

“Over a year ago. Right after . . . he told you to quit drinking before you drank yourself to death and you beat him pretty bad for it.”

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not proud of that. My dad still hasn’t let me live that down, even though Travis forgave me the second it was over. I love that little bastard.”

“You sure you don’t want to go to Jefferson?”

He shook his head, and then smiled. “So . . . I still have Spaceballs.”

I laughed. “What is your obsession with Spaceballs?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. We watched it a lot as kids. It was something we did as brothers. It just makes me feel good, ya know?”

“You just keep it in your car?” I asked, skeptically.