"I Drive Your Truck" – Lee Brice

Jethro grabbed the keys from the hook by the door, and left the store quickly without making a fuss. Climbing into the beaten and worn pick up, he slammed the heavy door and tore down the quiet Stillwater streets.

After several minutes, he swung his palm down on the steering wheel and let out a dry sob. It seemed that he didn't have any tears left after Jackson's funeral that morning. "Damn it, dad." He whispered, "Why'd you have to go?"

After driving around the unchanging streets of Stillwater for another twenty minutes, Jethro pulled up to the curb beside the store. He paused uncharacteristically by the hood of the truck and patted it gingerly before going inside.

Katie and Tony were by the register, Tony standing tall and strong for both of them and holding Katie on his hip like he used to when she was small. Her hair was pulled back into a messy pony tail, and the ten year old was asleep with her head on Tony's shoulder, arms around his neck, bags under her eyes, and tear tracks staining her cheeks.

"You feeling better?" Tony asked softly, leaning against the wall to help support Katie's weight. Jethro nodded and crossed the short distance to his family and kissed Tony's temple.

"Yeah," he said roughly. He rubbed Katie's back lightly, a crooked grin making its way to his face when she stirred and scrunched her nose up.

"Ready to head back home? The rest of the family left right after you did." Tony told him, pushing away from the wall. "You scared them, reverting back to the functional mute that you used to be, and all."

"Yeah. But I think I'll drive the truck."

Tony nodded in understanding, and slipped his free hand into Jethro's and led him to the door.