Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 32

CHAPTER 20-2

+25 Pomté

CHAPTER 20-2

family has suddenly remembered I exist.” I said and he read the front before handing it back.

“Dinner.” He said.

“Apparently.” I said.

“You going?” He asked.

“I don’t know.” I said.

I explained Olivia’s advice, the legal concerns and exactly how little I wanted to spend an evening pretending everything was normal.

Jace listened without interrupting and when I finally finished, he shrugged slightly.

“The decision is yours.” He said.

“That’s not particularly helpful.” I said.

“It isn’t my decision to make.” He said.

I appreciate that answer more than I expected.

Most people would’ve spent ten minutes telling me what they thought I should do. He simply

trusted me to choose.

“If you go, call me when you’re ready to leave. I’ll come get you.” He said quietly and I looked at

him.

“You think I’ll need rescuing?” I asked.

“I think everyone deserves an exit plan.” He said and I smiled.

“You’re annoyingly sensible.” I said.

“I’ve been called worse.” He said.

“I believe it.” I said.

By the time he left my mind was finally made up.

I would attend. Alone. Not because I wanted to but because I refused to give my family another

excuse to rewrite the story.

After closing the garage for the evening I wandered toward the back corner of the workshop where Uncle Will’s old motorcycle sat beneath a clean canvas cover.

:::

ออก

|||

O

13

на

CHAPTER 20-2

+25 Points

It hadn’t moved in months. Not because anything was wrong with it but because I haven’t been ready.

I pulled the cover away and ran my hand across the faded fuel tank.

“You’ve waited long enough.” I muttered.

The familiar smell of old oil, polished chrome and worn leather wrapped around me as I rolled the

motorcycle onto the lift.

I spent the next three hours working in comfortable silence, changed the oil, checked every cable, adjusted the carburetor and cleaned years of dust from the engines fins.

Every moment felt familiar and every bolt reminded me of afternoons spent beside Uncle Will while he patiently explained why rushing always created twice as much work.

Whenever my thoughts drifted toward tomorrow night’s dinner, I focused on the motorcycle

instead.

Engines made sense. Families rarely did.

By the time I finished the old bike looked ready to ride another thousand miles and I smiled

proudly.

“You’d probably still tell me I overturned something.” I said.

I reached for the small tool compartment built into the side cover. It stuck slightly before finally

opening and inside lay an old shop rag and a rusty spark plug and a faded piece of yellowed paper. My heart skipped a beat as I carefully unfolded it.

The hand writing was instantly recognizable. Uncle Will.

The ink had faded with age but the words remained perfectly clear.

“Don’t let anyone convince you this place isn’t worth fighting for.”

I stared at the note until the workshop blurred and he’s written it years ago.

Long before lawyers, before Charlotte and before I inherited Lawson Customs.

Somehow he’d known there would come a day when I’d need those words.

I folded the note carefully and slipped it into my pocket.

Upstairs I finally showered away the day’s grease, brushed my teeth and stood in front of the tiny closet for several minutes before choosing a simple navy dress and a pair or low heels for the

dinner.

SAY

10

GORN

|||

23

O

<

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify