Page 6 of The Logic of Loyalty

“Yes!” I immediately reassure her. “Yes, Paige is pregnant.”

The sound of shattering meets my ears, and I look to see Carter and his father with identical looks of shock, a broken glass at their feet.

“Shit.”

“I didn’t hear anything!” Carter shouts before turning around to run out back. I laugh nervously while Loretta narrows her eyes at the place he was just standing. I really hope he understands how delicate this all is.

“I’ll talk to him, kid.” Lyle comes and sits in the La-Z-Boy in front of me. “What can we do for you, son?”

I can answer this question without issue as well. I have a plan. “I need a family vehicle. I can sell the ’69 and get some pretty good money to get a family vehicle and a ring for my girl.”

Lyle and Momma Stewart’s eyes meet, and they seem to have an entire conversation between them before he gestures to me.

“Follow me. I wanna show you something.”

I stand with a final hand squeeze from Momma S, and make my way out the back door to the lot, as I lovingly like to call it.

Lyle and Carter love cars and deals on cars. Their backyard is a haven for people like them and me.

He walks up to his pristine 1995 Chevy Suburban and leans into the driver’s seat to grab something. He leans out with a set of keys that he places directly into my hand.

“We bought this anticipating a bit of a bigger family than what we got. We hardly, if ever, take it anywhere anymore.” He pushes my hand, holding the keys closer to my chest. “Take it, free and clear.”

“Oh, hell no.” Shit. “No. What I mean is, with all due respect, I need to provide for my family, Mr. Stewart. That means I’d love to buy it off you, once I get my Camaro sold.”

Lyle shakes his head, a soft, understanding expression on his face. “I’ll find you a buyer, but you can keep this big guy.” He smacks the side of the Suburban. “Until it goes through. How does that sound?”

I feel some of the anxiety that has been silently twisting around my gut slip away at his offer. “Yessir, that sounds perfect.” I reach out to shake his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“Make me proud, Trevor.”

“I will, sir.”

We drove this Suburban to all of our appointments and through the end of our senior year of school. We slept in it a while, too, after Paige started to show and my parents kicked me out. When Jacob came early, I sold my soul to the devil. I scrambled to get us a safe home, but our baby came home to a fully furnished apartment. My wife had a bed, not a back seat. After the hardest summer of my life, I went to college and took out student loans—enough to buy her a brand new Subaru to save on gas money. It’s also one of the safest vehicles on the road.

I continued to drive the Suburban.

Once my father offered me the job at the bank, he told me that it made the business look bad, having someone in the finance department driving something so old. Paige and I shared the Subaru for a while, and it worked to keep him off my back, until it didn’t. When I turned twenty-five, he gave me an ultimatum I couldn’t refuse. I bought the newest Chevrolet Camaro.

“The optics are better” was how my father approved of my choice and finally dropped the topic of my vehicle.

I pat the side of the Suburban and skip up the steps to my family. Inside, I drop my keys on the table and take off my suit jacket, hanging it by the door.

“Where’s my beautiful family?” I toe off my shoes and stride into the living room. The scent of some kind of tomato sauce and beef fills the home, making my stomach growl. Never got to that stupid fucking sandwich.

“In here, honey!” Sure enough, there’s Paige, delectable backside turned to me while she bends over the stove and stirs something. I prowl to her and wrap my arms around her stomach, pulling her snug against me and burying my nose in her clean hair.

“Smells good enough to eat.”

Paige pats my arm. “Good! It’s simple, though.” Her voice is music made just for comforting my soul. “It’ll be done pretty quickly.” My wife does a little happy shimmy when she’s talking about good food, and rubs her body against my own.

“I’m not talking about dinner.” I drop my voice and glide my nose along the small, exposed section of her neck. She shivers, and I’m hooked on this woman. Only the knowledge that my son is in the other room prevents me from devouring my wife. I reluctantly release her. “Is there anything you need me to do to help?” Paige shakes her head and nods toward the living room.

“Go and rest. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” I tease, then wander into the living room, where my boy is sitting on the couch.

“I said, ’Hello, family!” Jacob mumbles a response, but I plop onto the couch directly beside him. “Is this a two-person game?”