Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 304

CHAPTER 171-1

Paige’s POV

The house felt unusually quiet that evening, and after dinner, i found myself standing at the bottom of the stairs staring toward the hallway.

I had spent the entire day thinking about Uncle Will, especially after everything that had happened recently, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that there were still pieces of his life I had never understood.

So instead of watching television or going straight to bed, I went upstairs and opened the door to the spare room where I had stored several boxes of his belongings.

Jace was downstairs talking with Derek, and I knew I had some time before he came looking for me.

I carried the first box onto the bed and sat beside it before opening the lid.

The first thing I found was an old leather jacket.

I smiled immediately because I remembered that jacket, and I remembered how Uncle Will had worn.it everywhere, even when the weather was warm enough to make everyone else complain.

Beneath it were several photos. I picked up the first one and laughed.

It showed me when I was about ten years old, sitting on a tiny motorcycle while Uncle Will stood behind me with both hands firmly on my shoulders.

I had been terrified that day because I was convinced the motorcycle was going to throw me into the

nearest tree.

I had apparently screamed so loudly that one of the neighbors had come outside to see what was happening.

“You were dramatic.” I whispered.

I turned the photograph over and smiled at the handwriting on the back.

First lesson, and she already thinks I’m trying to kill her.

I laughed again.

“That sounds like you.” I said.

I placed the photo beside me and reached for another.

This one showed me several years older, covered in grease and standing beside an old motorcycle that looked almost twice my size.

Uncle Will stood beside me with his arms crossed, and although he was trying to look serious, I could see the smile he had failed to hide.

I remembered that day too.

I had spent nearly an entire afternoon trying to remove a stubborn bolt, and after several failed attempts, I

CHAPTER 1.

had finally thrown the wrench onto the ground.

Uncle Will had laughed until he had to sit down.

I had been furious with him at the time, but now the memory made me smile.

I continued sorting through the photos, and each one brought back another memory.

There were pictures of family gatherings, motorcycle competitions, birthdays, holidays, and ordinary afternoons at Lawson Customs.

Some showed Uncle Will standing beside motorcycles he had restored, while others showed him holding trophies with an expression that suggested he would rather be anywhere else.

I found a photo of him standing beside a bright red motorcycle with a large trophy in his hands and I turned it over.

Second place, because the judges clearly had no taste.

I laughed.

“That sounds exactly like you.” I said.

Another photograph showed him with a trophy nearly as tall as I had been at the time.

I remembered asking why he had not won first place, and he had spent twenty minutes explaining why the judges were wrong.

He had apparently believed he could have won every competition if people simply understood motorcycles as well as he did.

I shook my head as I placed the photograph down.

“You really were impossible.” I said.

The box contained several old trophies wrapped in newspaper, and I carefully lifted each one out.

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