Page 50 of Honest Boys Don’t Play

“Thanks.”

I get behind the wheel of my truck and ring Daire before I pull out. There’s something else I need to take care of today.

Daire pushes a button to close the door. “See, I told you man, the minivan is the superior dad car. The doors slide open and it makes getting in and out easier. Imagine trying to open the car door and wrangle your kid inside when another car is parked close. This makes it so much easier.”

He has an excellent point. I still feel a little sick though over the prospect of buying a brand-new vehicle, even if I know it’s necessary.

“I’m just saying, it’s life changing.” He holds his hands up innocently. “Don’t shoot the messenger.” He hops into the vehicle and sits in one of the backseats. “And look, the seats even recline so if you have to pull over for the kid at least, you’re comfortable.”

The salesman peeks inside the vehicle. “I think we need to give you a job here.”

Daire chuckles and grips Sammy’s hands where his son hangs happily in his chest carrier. “I’m just a man who loves his minivan.”

“Can I take it for a test drive?” I ask the salesman.

He gives me a duh look, but in my defense, I’ve never stepped foot on a new car lot. “Of course. You like this one?” He gestures to the silver with black interior.

“Yeah,” I reply.

“I need your license and I’ll get the keys and be right back.”

When the salesman is gone, Daire waves Sammy’s hands in the air and says, “Sammy, tell Uncle Luke to join the minivan dad club. It’s fun here.”

“Uncle?” I ask, surprised.

Daire scoffs. “Of course. You might not be my brother by blood, but you’re my brother by hockey and fatherhood, and frankly that might be an even closer bond. So, yes, you’re my kid’s uncle and I expect to be your kid’s too.”

I duck my head as a feeling I’ve never experienced before settles over me. I’ve always only had my mom and yet somehow over the past year or so my family has grown to encompass more people, and I’ve learned that family is so much more than who’s related to you. It’s the people around you who love and support you. Who are there through the good and bad.

An hour and a half later I’m signing paper after paper and accepting keys to my brand-new minivan.

“You’re gonna love it, man,” Daire says before we part ways and he gets in his own vehicle.

I slide behind the wheel of the minivan, rubbing my hands over the leather covered wheel. I’ve never owned anything this nice in my entire life. It’s safe to say I’m mildly terrified of crashing it on the way home.

I keep replaying in my mind what Bradley said about a car seat and even though I know we still have some time before the baby comes, I find myself Googling the best infant seats and purchasing one to pick up from a nearby store.

I unbox it in the lot so it’s ready to go and head back to the fire station.

If Bradley is surprised to see me, he doesn’t say so. Instead, he raises his brows at the new car and says, “Nice wheels, Dad.”

“Thanks. I … uh … stopped by the store and grabbed an infant seat. This one is highly rated.”

“I know the one.” He nods, hands planted on his hips. “I’ll get this situated for you.”

He installs the seat with practiced ease and checks everything over when he’s done.

“I can’t thank you enough.”

He dismisses my praise. “No problem. I’m happy to help, kid. Now, just so you know if you’re ever in an accident, even a little fender bender you think does no damage, you need to replace your car seat. Something you think is a minor bump can ruin the integrity of the seat.”

“Got it.”

He claps me on the shoulder. “Good luck, kid.”

I drive away feeling loads better than I did this morning. I’m almost home when I pass the grocery store. It’s silly, because there’s nothing we need from there, but I turn around and go back, all so I can grab one of the capsule prizes for Bertie.

I’ve gotten her a few here and there since the first and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of the small smile she wears every time.