Tyler guided me inside with Abby trailing behind. Travis instantly hugged her and rubbed his hands along her upper arms. Then he cupped her hands and blew on them. They stared into each other’s eyes like they were privy to a secret. Suddenly, gross didn’t seem so bad.

Chapter Twenty-Two

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Tyler helped me with my coat, and then we settled in to watch documentaries on Netflix—Jim’s favorite pastime, apparently.

Tyler and I sat on the sofa next to Travis and Abby. Trent and Camille made a pallet on the floor and whispered while he drew on the palm of her hand with a Sharpie. Jim was sitting in his recliner, his eyes getting heavier by the minute.

I leaned in to Tyler’s ear. “Where’s Taylor?”

“On his way. He had to take care of some things, first.”

I nodded. “And the oldest? Is it Thomas?”

“Yeah, he was invited to his boss’s house this year. Couldn’t say no.”

I nodded again. Tyler relaxed back against the worn sofa cushion, resting his hand on my knee. No one bugged us about our ambiguous friendship like I worried they would. We all just sat around, spending time together in what seemed to be an uncharacteristically peaceful Maddox moment.

Just as the credits of our second documentary of the night began to roll, the front door swung open, and Taylor dropped his duffel bag.

“Wake up, dick heads! I’m home!”

Trent and Travis jumped up and immediately tackled their brother, all three of them falling outside onto the porch with a thud. After a few seconds of scuffle, Tyler sighed.

“I’ll be right back.”

He rushed over to aid his twin, and I winced a few times when I saw the grappling escalate.

With some effort, Jim pushed himself up from the chair, making his way to the door. “All right, all right! That’s enough!” He used his foot to poke at the writhing pile of Maddox boys, and then Travis finally broke out of the dog pile and began separating the others.

Abby shook her head, unfazed. Camille watched from the floor, not the least bit worried.

The boys walked in, breathing hard and chuckling, red blotches on their faces and arms. Trent used the back of his hand to dab his bleeding bottom lip, and Travis pointed at him and laughed.

“Don’t grab my nuts next time, dick licker,” Tyler said.

Camille went to the refrigerator and returned, giggling as she held a small ice pack covered in a dishtowel to Trent’s lip.

“God almighty,” Jim said, returning to his chair.

Travis didn’t seem to have a scratch on him, but Tyler limped to the sofa.

“Whoa,” I whispered.

Abby patted my knee. “Might as well get used to it. It’s a regularly occurring thing.”

“You okay?” I asked.