The Only Rule

Hunt sat on a stool, elbows on his knees, staring at the unfinished Chevy Impala parked in the corner, bathed in muted light filtering through the half-open garage door. The car was still as lifeless as it had been for years, white paint dull and peeling in some places—a reminder of everything left undone.

And he couldn't bring himself to touch it.

"Mom, why do you keep driving around without me?"

A young Dominic, eyes wide with curiosity, watched his mother tinker under the hood. He pouted, running to her side.

She laughed, surprised, and scooped him into a hug. "Well, how about next time I take you along?" she said, ruffling his hair. "It's good to speak up when you want something, Dom. Choosing the life you want is fun."

He used to know every inch of this car. He could hear it purr to life in his head, the way it used to respond to his mother's hands on the wheel. But now it was just.. there. Cold. Silent. A reflection of the promises he'd left rusting. His fingers twitched, longing for motion, for purpose, but doubt rooted him in place—before he pushed it away, shaking his head sharply.

Letting out a breath that felt like it had been held for years, he steeled himself. The stool screeched loudly as he stood abruptly, the sound cutting through the heavy quiet. The urge to do something finally clawed its way to the surface. He reached for a wrench on the workbench, the weight of it grounding him.

For the first time in years, he popped the hood.

"Why is picking friends important?"

His mother chuckled, lifting him onto her lap. "You're still sooo young," she said, tapping his nose playfully, eliciting a little giggle from him. "But remember, choosing who you want to be close with is grounding. Living a life based on essentials isn't about having less—but it's about valuing what you can't live without."

The engine stared back at him, tangled and neglected, but not beyond repair. His hand hovered over the parts, hesitant at first. Slowly, though, he began working.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his neck as days passed. The rhythmic clinks and clatters of tools filled the garage. His shirt clung to him, streaked with oil and grease. The sun began to dip outside, casting warm, golden light across the space.

"Deciding what's essential in our lives isn't about getting rid of things we love. Instead of determining how little we can live with, it's about working out what we simply can't live without, Dom."

Finally, the moment of truth came. He wiped his hands on his jeans, enthusiastically slid into the driver's seat. His hand reached out to the key—but hesitation flooded back on the back of his mind. However, once again, he steeled himself.. before carefully, turned the key.

For a moment, there was only silence. He waited.. and waited.. until—

A low guttural roar filled the road. The sleek white Impala tearing through an open road, its white body gleaming in the golden glow of the sunset. Hunt was behind the wheel, his golden hair ruffled by the breeze through the open coupe. His aviator sunglasses glinting, his expression unreadable but calm, a sense of peace and purpose radiating from him.

"I'll be rooting for you from the sidelines. So listen to me—" she made sure his eyes stayed on hers, even as his little face scrunched in confusion. "You have to endure. Life is a hard journey, Dominic."

For a long time, he drove, a hand steady on the wheel, another rested on the transmission. Her words played over and over again in his mind.