Like clockwork, I hear the rumble of the Challenger heading down the street. The engine cuts off in the driveway. I quickly tuck my hair behind my ears, lick my lips, and pick up my book. The door swings open and quietly clicks closed. I shut the book, and my mouth falls open when I see Travis. He’s distraught, and his hair is a disheveled mess. I swallow hard, waiting for him to speak, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks to the kitchen, and I hear the freezer door open and shut. Tequila.
“Travis?” I’m genuinely concerned by his demeanor.
“I’ve had a shitastic day.”
He’s on edge and isn’t making eye contact with me. I watch him take another gulp of tequila straight from the bottle.
“Okay? And?”
My phone begins to ding in the living room with text messages and lots of them.
“You should
