The table is buried.

Not in junk—Wayne wouldn’t allow that—but in paper. Pamphlets from the clinic in town. A folded flyer about GED programs Wayne grabbed out of habit before correcting himself with a sharp strike-through. A yellow legal pad with his blocky handwriting: BUDGET / SCHOOL / WORK underlined twice. A calculator sits near Eddie’s elbow like it’s daring him to mess up.

You sit beside Eddie, thigh to thigh. Your knee bounces despite your best efforts. Eddie’s arm is draped behind you, protective without even thinking about it, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder like he’s checking that you’re still here.

Wayne stands at the counter, coffee long gone cold.

“Okay,” Wayne says, clapping his hands once. “We do this one thing at a time. Nobody panics.”

Eddie exhales loudly. “I am already panicking.”

Wayne ignores him.

“Clinic says prenatal care’s covered,” Wayne continues, tapping a pamphlet. “County program. That’s a good start.”

You nod. “They mentioned WIC too. Food assistance. Formula, later on.”

Wayne’s eyebrows lift. “Good. Write it down.”

Eddie scribbles it onto the legal pad, letters messy but determined. “WIC. Sounds like a battle axe.”

You snort, then immediately clamp a hand over your mouth.

Wayne points the pen at Eddie. “School.”

Eddie straightens instantly, like someone just challenged him. “I’m still going.”

Wayne pauses. “Good.”

“I’m not dropping out,” Eddie continues, sharper now. “Not now. Not ever. I’ve got, like—” he gestures vaguely “—three months left. They already think I’m a lost cause. I’m not giving them that.”

You look at him, heart swelling painfully. “You’d finish even with… all this?”

Eddie turns to you, softer. “Especially with this.”

Wayne nods once, satisfied. “Graduation stays on the list.”

He writes it down in big, decisive letters.

“And after school?” Wayne asks.

Eddie leans back, thinking hard. “I can work with you. At the shop. Even part-time. I already know engines better than half the guys you’ve got.”

Wayne huffs. “That’s depressingly true.”

“And,” Eddie adds, warming up now, “I could give guitar lessons. Vocal coaching. Kids in town wanna learn metal, whether their parents like it or not.”

You grin. “You already teach half the freshmen how to tune.”

“Exactly,” Eddie says. “I’ll charge.”

Wayne considers this, then nods slowly. “That’s not stupid.”

Eddie beams. “High praise.”

Wayne turns to you. “You?”

“I can keep my shifts at the record store,” you say. “My boss already hinted she’d help me with hours. And… I’ve been looking at community college catalogs. Just to see.”

Eddie’s head snaps toward you. “You didn’t tell me that.”

You shrug, shy. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

Wayne smiles at that. “You two are already doing better than you think.”

He finally sits across from you, forearms braced on the table, voice dropping into something real and steady.

“This is gonna be hard,” he says. “You’ll be tired. You’ll be scared. You’ll argue.”

Eddie nods. You do too.

“But,” Wayne continues, “you care. You’re planning. And that puts you miles ahead of where most people start.”

Eddie swallows. “I just don’t wanna fail them.”

Wayne reaches out and taps Eddie’s knuckles. “Then you won’t quit.”

You press a hand to your stomach, barely there but already everything.

Eddie notices immediately. “You okay?”

You nod. “Yeah. Just… feeling it.”

He leans in, forehead resting against yours. “We’ve got this.”

Wayne clears his throat pointedly. “Alright. Enough emotional bonding. Dinner.”

Eddie grins. “See? Functional family meeting.”

Wayne snorts, heading for the stove. “Don’t get cocky.”