“Is that what you do?” I asked. “Are you a cop?”

Everyone laughed but me.

“No,” Abby said. “I’m a college student. I tutor math a few nights a week.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Maybe you should look into that.”

Abby seemed pleased. “Did you hear that, Trav? I should be a cop.”

He kissed her hand again. “I don’t think I could handle that.”

“Me either,” Tyler said. He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “He gets a little crazy when it comes to her.”

“I know someone like that,” I said.

Tyler mulled over my words, and then smiled, clearly taking it as a compliment.

We pulled into the drive of a small house with a detached garage and a hideous red Dodge Intrepid in the drive. A round, older gentleman stepped outside with another muscled brother, the same buzz cut and inked arms as Travis and the twins.

“Trent?” I asked.

Tyler nodded.

When Travis parked the car, Tyler hopped out and knocked on the trunk until Travis popped it open. He dug out our backpacks and slung them over his shoulder.

“You pack lighter than me,” Abby said. “I’m impressed.”

I smiled, still unsure if she planned to be friend or foe.

“Come in, come in,” Mr. Maddox called to us.

Tyler bear-hugged his father and punched Trent in the arm before hugging him, too.

“Trent,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Ellie,” I replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“We’re so glad you decided to come,” Mr. Maddox said.

“I appreciate you having me, Mr. Maddox.”

He chuckled, flattening his palm over his belly like a pregnant woman fawning over her ripe baby bump. “It’s just Jim, kiddo. Come in out of the cold! We’ve had a mean cold snap this week.”

Trent held open the creaking screen door as we passed, and I stepped into their tiny home, the worn carpet and furniture an ode to the house from A Christmas Story. I half expected Ralphie to be standing at the top of the stairs in a pink bunny suit, and then smiled as I remembered watching that movie on numerous Thanksgiving evenings from my father’s lap, swaying as he belly laughed for over an hour.

I inhaled stale smoke and the smell of old carpet, feeling strangely at ease. We paused in the kitchen, watching a girl washing dishes at the sink dry her hands and reach her ink-covered arms for Tyler. He hugged her, and then she shook my hand. Her fingers were pruny from the sudsy water, but I could still make out the word baby doll across her knuckles. A diamond stud sparkled in her nose, and beneath the thick eyeliner, she was stunningly beautiful. Everything from her razored bob to her timid smile reminded me of Paige.

“This is Cami,” Trent said.

“Or Camille,” she said. “Whichever you prefer. Nice to meet you.”