The last of the guys had left and the shop was dark when I headed down to my car—a 1966 baby blue mustang convertible.
It was my pride and joy.
Found her at a junkyard, pretty much destroyed with rusting paint and rip
ped seats. The engine had needed a complete overhaul—everything had, really.
It’d taken me a long time to save up the money for all the parts—I had refused to ask my dad for the money even though I knew he would’ve handed it over willingly—and then find the time to fix it.
But she was done and she was perfect.
I kept the top down on the car as I drove to the other side of town to the home I grew up in.
The brick pathway leading up the front door glowed from the light of these little lanterns my mom had placed. The front door was painted a bright cherry red and it stood out against the gray stone and white siding exterior.
I parked in the driveway and headed in through the garage.
After I moved out, I’d come over once and knocked on the front door. My mom had been upset that I thought I needed permission to come inside, and now insisted that I just let myself inside.
I heard the raucous symphony of my family coming from the kitchen and followed the sound.
They were already seated around the large kitchen table with plates covered in some kind of pasta dish.
“Dean!” My fifteen-year-old brother Lincoln cried out.
“Hey, Linc.” I ruffled his shaggy brown hair before taking a seat beside him. My mom was on the end nearest me and I leaned over to kiss her cheek. “Mom.”
She smiled at me, her brown eyes filled with warmth. “Your dad says you’re going on a road trip with Willow.”
The way she said Willow’s name let me know I was in trouble.
My mom had believed something was going on with Willow and me for years. Nothing I said could convince her otherwise.
“That’s true.” I shoveled a pile of the pasta onto my plate. “This looks good, ma.”
“Don’t try and change the subject,” she warned me with a glint in her eyes. She smiled slowly. “What prompted this?”
I shrugged nonchalantly. “She was supposed to go on a trip with her friends from school, they bailed, so I stepped in.”
Her lips pressed together like she was fighting an even bigger smile.
“Out with it, mom. We both know you’re going to say whatever it is anyway.”
I shoved a forkful of food into my mouth and waited for what she had to say.
“You’ve always had to be her hero.”
“Wha?” I choked, pieces of pasta falling out of my mouth.
Linc pounded my back. “Breathe through the pain,” he chortled.
I punched him in the shoulder.
“Boys!” My mom admonished.
Across the table my sister Grace let out a sigh. “Why couldn’t I have had a sister?”
“Because my sperm didn’t swing that way,” my dad responded with a straight face.