Chapter 13
Drew
Turned out she’d been squatting in the woods about a mile from our compound. The police found her “campground,” which was essentially a few ratty blankets under a tree and a bag filled with magazine articles about us and our kids.
It was why no one could find her. She’d been literally in the middle of nowhere… close but not close enough that our security team noticed.
She had no identification but was later confirmed to be Irene W.
Coleman. No one knew what the W stood for, but I could take a few guesses.
None of them would be nice. The only reason she was identified was that an institution on the other side of the state recognized her (from the news) and called the police.
She’d been a long-term patient there, then rehabilitated and released.
She’d only been out for six months. Three months ago, she stopped checking in with the outpatient therapist. Three months ago was also when the letters started coming.
We assumed she saw the photos of Andi and Travis and became fixated. I have no idea how she got across the state or why it was my kids she latched on to. I was just glad she was back in custody and getting the help she clearly needed.
Even knowing some of the details and understanding this woman clearly needed medication and supervision, I was still angry. How could I not be? These were my kids.
Oh, and if you’re wondering how she got onto our property…
She climbed into Trav’s new Bronco while it was parked on the flatbed outside the gate.
She must have hidden on the floorboards and gotten out when no one was looking.
That also explained why the driver’s side was unlatched when Travis went to get in.
With the threat to our kids’ safety no longer in play and the police interviews concluded, things were finally quieting back down on the compound. All the kids were piling into the home theater for a family movie night with buckets of popcorn and too much candy.
“Trav,” I called, catching his eye from the recliner he was sprawled in and jerking my head in the direction of the door where Trent leaned in the frame.
It really should be illegal to be that sexy.
As if he knew my thoughts, he smirked, a promise of later glimmering in his hazel eyes.
“What’s going on?” Travis asked when he met us by the door.
“We never got to give you your birthday present,” Trent said, straightening off the jamb. If the massive bruise covering his shoulder from when he used himself as a human battering ram ached—like I knew it must have—he didn’t show it.
My heart stopped when I saw him challenge that four-wheeler.
I’d managed to cover our daughter’s eyes, but I couldn’t force mine away.
God, the risk he took. I understood why.
Hell, I would have done it myself if I hadn’t been holding Andi.
But I was, and all I could do was watch him put himself in harm’s way.
Thank fuck he was okay. That they all were.
Travis’s brows drew down. “You threw me a party. Plus, the cake, balloons, and you got me that black jacket I wanted.”
I scoffed. “That wasn’t your present.”
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope,” Trent replied, popping the P.
“What is it?” Travis asked, looking between us.
I grinned, excitement making my stomach flutter. “How about we go find out?”
“Now? I thought we were watching a movie.”
“They’re going to argue over what to watch for at least thirty minutes,” Trent mused.
It was true. No one could ever pick.
“Okay.”
“Go ahead,” Trent told us. “I’ll catch up.”
Trent went to tell our daughter (and everyone else) where we were headed and caught up to us on the back deck just as we started down the stairs.
The sun drooped heavy in the evening sky, its fiery streaks piercing through the rustling trees and making the horizon bleed gold and crimson.
Our shadows stretched in front of us as we made our way across the grass to our house, three elongated forms in a line, the two on the ends a little wider and longer than the one in the middle.
Autumn hummed in the air while summer hushed completely as everything around us held its breath for the final moments of day before being claimed by night.
I felt the precipice deeper tonight because I, too, was transitioning to a new season.
Years ago, that would have scared me, adrenaline being almost an addiction and something I couldn’t really imagine myself without.
But now, here, on the night before I told the world I was stepping away from racing, fear was the furthest thing from my mind.
I was too wrapped up in contentment to feel the pull of adrenaline because it was no longer my drug.
“Where are we going?” Travis asked as our footsteps crunched over grass. “Why didn’t you just bring it up to the main house?”
Trent shot me a smile.
“It’s not something we can just carry around,” I replied.
“If it’s some kind of gold pooper scooper for that cat, I’m going to crash out.”
Trent guffawed.
“What does that even mean?” I wondered.
Travis shrugged. He probably didn’t know either.
Trent caught Trav’s hood when he started up the stairs to the front door. “Wrong way,” he said, tugging him back.
Travis gave us a look. “You’re being weird.”
I directed him to the last door at the end of the garage. “Stand here,” I said as we took up either side of him.
Trent pulled a remote out of his pocket. “Ready?”
Travis sighed.
The door started rolling up, revealing inch by inch of the Mustang draped in heavy cloth. Even after the door stopped, Travis stayed where he was, barely moving. Just staring.
“Well?” I said, too excited to wait.
“What is that?” he asked.
“Why don’t you go find out?” Trent goaded.
He swallowed so hard his Adam’s apple bobbed. Tucking his hands in his pockets, he looked at me, then at Trent. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Depends. What do you think it is?” I asked.
“A car,” he half whispered. It almost sounded like a prayer.
Butterflies erupted wildly beneath my ribcage, making me feel slightly nauseous.
“Gamble already bought you a car.” Trent reminded him.
“Not that kind of car,” Trav said, stare fixed on the cloth.
“What kind then?” Trent asked.
He whispered. “The only kind that matters.”
A sudden flash of the little boy with too-small clothes and a toy Mustang clutched in his hand overwhelmed me, and tears crowded the back of my eyes. Seriously, there were so many that it was an impending tsunami.
Family isn’t always something you’re born into. Sometimes it’s something you find.
Thank God I found him.
“Why don’t you go look?” Trent encouraged him.
Travis jogged forward, stopping in front of the car to stare before moving to the side and bunching the cover in his hands.
“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 hefty ungh from his lungs. “Our son.” I corrected 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 engine should be. “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!”
He wrenched open the passenger door, and it squealed so loud it sounded like a bad horror film. “Gonna need to fix that!” Trav said as if the idea excited him and crawled into the seat to check out every detail inside.
Laughing under his breath, Trent draped an arm over my shoulder, and we watched him through the dirty windshield. “These are original parts!” he exclaimed. “Oh, hells yes!”
“I think he likes it,” I mused.
“That’s an understatement.”