“My mom’s great … my dad and I had a lot of issues to work out, but we’re good, now.”
“I had Mick Abernathy for a father.”
“Who’s that?”
I giggled. “See? It’s not a big deal if you don’t know who he is.”
“Who is he?”
“A mess. The gambling, the drinking, the bad temper … it’s hereditary in my family. America and I came here so I could start fresh, without the stigma of being the daughter of a drunken has-been.”
“A gambling has-been from Wichita?”
“I was born in Nevada. Everything Mick touched turned to gold back then. When I turned thirteen, his luck changed.”
“And he blamed you.”
“America gave up a lot to come here with me so I could get away, but I get here and walk face-first into Travis.”
“And when you look at Travis …”
“It’s all too familiar.”
Finch nodded, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “Shit, Abby. That sucks.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you tell anyone what I just told you, I’ll call the Mob. I know some of them, you know.”
“Bullshit.”
I shrugged. “Believe what you want.”
Finch eyed me suspiciously, and then smiled. “You are officially the coolest person I know.”
“That’s sad, Finch. You should get out more,” I said, stopping at the cafeteria entrance.
He pulled my chin up. “It’ll all work out. I’m a firm believer in the whole things-happening-for-a-reason adage. You came here, America met Shep, you found your way to the Circle, something about you turned Travis Maddox’s world upside down. Think about it,” he said, planting a quick kiss on my lips.
“Hey now!” Travis said. He grabbed me by the waist, lifted me off my feet, returning me to the ground behind him. “You’re the last person I’d have to worry about that shit from, Finch! Throw me a bone, here!” he teased.
Finch leaned to the side of Travis and winked. “Later, Cookie.”
When Travis turned to face me, his smile faded. “What’s the frown for?”
I shook my head, trying to let the adrenaline run its course. “I just don’t like that nickname. It has some bad memories attached to it.”
“Term of endearment from the youth minister?”
“No,” I grumbled.
Travis punched his palm. “Do you want me to go beat the piss out of Finch? Teach him a lesson? I’ll take him out.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “If I wanted to take Finch out, I’d just tell him Prada went out of business, and he’d finish the job for me.”
Travis laughed, nudging toward the door. “Let’s go! I’m wasting away, here!”
We sat at the lunch table together picking on each other with pinches and elbows to the ribs. Travis’s mood was as optimistic as on the night I lost the bet. Everyone at the table noticed, and when he instigated a mini-food fight with me
, it garnered the attention of those sitting at the tables around us.