“Dude. You hang out with Braeden too much,” I told him, pushing his arm off me and then shoving it off Trent. He could get his own man.
Romeo cackled as Lorhaven’s Corvette crested the hill. It was an old model like the one he’d totaled in a race way back in the day.
T and I went to the front of the group where Trav was standing beside Gamble.
“What’s going on?” he asked the second he saw us.
“Grampy here got you a bougie birthday gift,” I wisecracked.
“Call me Grampy again and see what happens,” Gamble retorted.
The flatbed truck appeared, a single black SUV clearly on the back.
Travis straightened, eyes following the truck like it was raining money. “Are you serious?” he asked, wide eyes flying to Trent and then me.
I nodded. “Maybe you should ask yourgrandfather.”
Ripping his eyes off the approaching vehicles, Travis turned to Gamble. “Grandad?”
Gamble’s lips turned up a little at the corners, his eyes warming. “Figured I’d get you a car since your dads never have.”
“We just want him to be ready,” I muttered.
“He’s ready,” Gamble announced. Laying his hand on Trav’s shoulder, he said, “It’s not a race car, but it’s loaded and big enough to haul your football gear and a few friends.”
Lorhaven pulled off into the grass and parked while the truck slowed to a stop a few feet away.
“Holy shit, is that a Bronco?” Blue exclaimed.
“Language!” all the adults admonished.
“It’s a Black Diamond Bronco,” Gamble confirmed.
The driver got out of the cab and walked toward the back to unload the SUV. Travis stood there speechless.
“Well, go on. Go tell me if you like it.”
All the kids ran toward it, staring at it from beside the lowering flatbed.
“It’s awesome!” Jax yelled.
“Look at those rims!” Jagger put in.
Lorhaven laughed.
I mean, it was pretty decent for a non-race car. A good choice for driving around with his sister, I guess.
And it was a Ford.
Travis jogged back, stopping in front of Gamble. “You really got that for me?”
“Hm.” He agreed. “But you gotta keep your grades up. And no getting in trouble. Just because I gave it to you doesn’t mean your dads can’t take it away.”
Travis plowed into Gamble, the older man rocking back on his heels. Trent and I moved to jump forward, afraid they were going down, but Gamble waved us off.
“Thank you, Grandad,” Travis said against his shoulder. “I promise I’ll take care of it.”
“I know you will.” He was gruff. “You’re a good kid. You deserve it.”
