“Thank you, T,” I whispered, voice as wet as my eyes. “Thank you.”
I felt his head turn in my direction. I felt his enveloping stare. “For what?”
“For my son,” I replied, finally turning so our eyes could collide. “For this family. For not just being my best friend but my everything.”
With the sky ablaze behind him, the outline of his shape burned with shades of glimmering gold and rouge, making him appear exactly what he was: my heart on fire.
“Dad!” Trav’s voice pulled me around even though I was still captured by the spell Trent cast on me. “Come on!”
I heard the words but didn’t really process them until Trent’s warm palm settled between my shoulder blades and slid up to grasp the back of my neck. “He wants you to help him.”
Just like that, day succumbed to night, and the moment I’d been savoring offered more.
“Go on,” Trent shooed. “Go show your son his new toy.”
I started away and then swung back, leaping into his arms and drawing out a heftyunghfrom his lungs.“Ourson.” Icorrected him before leaping back down and jogging over to the opposite side of the hood.
“Ready?” Travis called.
“Go!” Trent hollered.
We pulled off the massive cloth with me tugging the excess to my side so the car revealed itself to Trav first.
“No fucking way!” His disbelief pierced the night, causing ripples in the quiet but the very best kind.
Trent chuckled under his breath, and my heart felt like it was trying to claw its way out of my chest.
“Are you for real?” He went on, stepping back and rubbing a hand over the lower part of his face. “No fucking way.”
Neither of us bothered to correct his language.
“What do you think?” Trent called as he came closer.
“It’s a nineteen seventy Ford Mustang Mach 1. What do you think I think?” Travis said, pacing in front of it and then going around to look at the side.
“It’s black,” he said almost to himself.
“Like your soul,” I cracked.
“He’s got some glitter in there too,” Trent mused. “Andi made sure of that.”
“It needs new tires,” Travis said. “Headlights, coilover suspension,” he listed and rushed past us to pop the hood to look at where the engineshouldbe. “And a new engine.”
Only a true gearhead would be happy to receive a car with no engine.
“Needs a fuel injection too,” I added.
Travis nodded thoughtfully. “A new paint job too, probably.” Dropping the hood back in place, he dragged the pads of his fingers across the hood. “It has different styling than yours.”
I nodded. “Mine’s a year older.”
Trav nodded as though he already knew that because, yeah, he did.
His sneakers squeaked against the garage floor when he turned abruptly to face us. “This is seriously mine?”
Trent nodded. “All yours if you’re willing to put in the work to restore it.”
Travis’s genuine laugh was music to my ears. “That’s half the fun!”
