He walked me inside, and helped me clean up the mess we’d left when we carried my dad out to the Jeep. The pieces of the lamp jingled and clattered as we dumped them into the trash can. Trenton propped the end table back onto its broken legs.

“I’ll fix that tomorrow.”

I nodded, and then retreated to my room. Trenton waited in my bed while I washed my face and brushed my teeth. When I crawled under the covers next to him, he pulled me against his bare skin. He had undressed down to his boxers, and had only been in my bed for less than five minutes, but the sheets were already warm. I shivered against him, and he squeezed me tighter.

After a few minutes of silence, Trenton sighed. “I’ve been thinking about dinner tomorrow night. I think we should wait a little while. It just seems like . . . I don’t know. I feel like we should wait.”

I nodded. I didn’t want our first date to be weighed down with thoughts of the earlier events of that day, either.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice low and tired. “Those drawings on the walls. Are they yours?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“They’re good. Why don’t you draw me something?”

“I don’t really do that anymore.”

“You should start. You have my art on your walls,” he said, nodding to a couple of framed drawings. One was a penciled sketch of my hands, one lying on top of the other, my fingers displaying my first tattoo, the other was a charcoal of an emaciated girl holding a skull that I had to have when he’d finished. “I’d like to have some of your originals.”

“Maybe,” I said, settling against the pillow.

Neither of us had much to say after that. Trenton’s breathing evened out, and I fell asleep with my cheek against his chest, rising and falling in a slow rhythm.

Every night for a week and a half, Jim’s truck was a fixture in various parking spaces outside my apartment. Though I should have been worrying about my brothers coming over to pester me, or even fearing that my father would come back, I had never felt so safe. Once the Intrepid was fixed, Trenton began coming to the Red at close and walking me to my Jeep.

In the early morning hours of Thanksgiving, I was lying with my back to Trenton, and he was running his fingers softly up and down my arm.

I sniffed, and wiped a tear that was getting ready to fall from the tip of my nose. Dad was still living at the house. Those of us who knew about what had happened decided to keep it from the rest of the boys, and to keep the peace at least until after the holidays, I would celebrate elsewhere.

“I’m sorry you’re upset. I wish there were something I could do,” Trenton said.

“I’m just sad for my mom. This is the first Thanksgiving we won’t see each other. She doesn’t think it’s fair that he gets to be there and I don’t.”

“Why doesn’t she make him leave?” Trenton asked.

“She’s thinking about it. But she didn’t want to do that to the boys during the holidays. She’s always tried to do what was best for all of us.”

“This is not what’s best for all of you. It’s a no-win situation. She should just kick his ass out and let you spend Thanksgiving with your family.”

My lip trembled. “The boys will blame me, Trent. She knows what she’s doing.”

“They won’t ask where you are?”

“I haven’t been to family lunch in weeks. Mom figures Dad won’t let them ask too many questions.”

“Come to my house, Cami. Please? My brothers are all coming in.”

“All of them?” I asked.

“Yeah. It’s the first time we’ve all been together since Thomas moved away for that job.”

I pulled a tissue from the box on my nightstand, and wiped my nose. “I already volunteered to work the bar. It’s just Kody and me.”

Trenton sighed, but he didn’t push the issue any further.

When the sun rose, Trenton kissed me good-bye and left for home. I slept in for another hour and then forced myself to get up and around, finding Raegan cooking eggs in the kitchen. For half a second, I expected to see Kody, but it was just her, looking lost.

“Are you spending the night at your parents’ tonight?” I asked.

“Yeah. Sorry you’re stuck working.”

“I volunteered.”

“Why? Didn’t your dad freak out?”

“It’s Hank and Jorie’s first Thanksgiving at their house, and yes, Felix did freak out.”

“Aw, that’s nice of you,” she said, letting the scrambled chicken fetuses slide off the skillet onto her plate. “Want some?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

I made a face.

“So,” she said, shoveling a forkful into her mouth. “Trenton has practically moved in.”

“He’s just . . . making sure I’m okay.”

“What does that even mean?” she asked, looking at me with disgust.

“Felix might have come over last weekend after I got back from the employee meeting. And he might have tried to attack me.”

Raegan’s fork froze halfway between the plate and her mouth, and her expression morphed from confusion, to shock, to anger. “What?”

“Trenton was here. But I’m not really . . . speaking to Dad, or any of my family, really.”

“What?” she said, getting angrier by the second. “Why didn’t you tell me?” she shrieked.

“Because you overreact. Like this.”

“How exactly am I supposed to react? Felix was in our apartment, attacking you—whatever the f**king f**k that means—and you decide not to tell me? I live here, too!”

I frowned. “You’re right. God, Ray. I’m sorry. I didn’t think about you coming home and him being here.”

She put her palm flat on the counter. “Is Trent staying here tonight?”

I shook my head, and my brows pulled in. “No, he has family coming in.”

“I’m not leaving you here alone.”

“Ray . . .”

“Shut your face! You’re coming to my parents’ house with me.”

“No way . . .”

“You are, and you’re going to like it, as punishment for not telling me your psycho, wife-beating father barged into our apartment to attack you, and is still at large!”