The engine rumbled beneath my hands, the kind of sound that wraps around your ribs and settles deep in your chest. I tapped the wheel to the beat of The Verve, the melody slipping through the speakers like smoke. Paz was next to me, her voice soft but sure, strumming out the rhythm on her belly like it was a snare drum. Seaborn was in there somewhere, probably already kicking along.

Caspian was in the back, babbling through the lyrics like he actually knew what he was singing. Kid had confidence, I’d give him that. Probably gets it from his mom. I glanced at Paz, sunlight catching in her hair, and she smiled without looking at me — that quiet, knowing smile that said she was exactly where she wanted to be.

The Corvette ate up the road, its age showing in the best way, raw and untamed. Same as us, I guess. No frills, just noise and drive. Heading to the studio felt like coming home, and with Paz and Cas right there, it was like the whole world fit inside this car. And damn, it felt good.