Weeks with your father are the best. You get to do all the things your mother doesn’t let you do with her; ice cream for breakfast, staying up after bedtime, but your favorite by far was messing around with his bike, helping him make repairs.

Luke knew it was hard for you to have to switch back and forth between his house and your mothers from such a young age. He hated that. It frustrated him, especially during the times when he had just dropped you off at your mother’s and the house is silent without you running around and causing havoc. It’s the only silence he despises.

“Hold on, okay?” He holds his cigarette loosely between his lips as he sets you on his bike, the engine roaring to life beneath you.

Luke always gives you the best times. Spoils you to the best of his ability, though at times that ability isn’t a lot. There’s no doubt that your father loves you.

“And, no, we’re not painting it purple.” Luke scoffed lightly though the smile on his lips was more than visible. You had been wanting to paint his bike for a while now—always the most exotic colors. He thought it was adorable.

The bike continued to rumble beneath you, he reved the engine and watched your face for your reaction.