Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 44

CHAPTER 27-2

seemed to understand that silence wasn’t always something that needed to be filled.

By the time I thanked everyone for dinner and headed back toward Lawson Customs, the sun had

already set and the short drive back into town gave me far too much time to think.

The clubhouse had begun feeling less like somewhere I visited and more like somewhere I belonged. And that was dangerous. Not because the people there had done anything wrong but because belonging meant caring. Caring meant having something to lose.

I parked behind the garage and unlocked the side door before carrying my travel mug inside.

The workshop greeted me with its familiar scent of oil, steel and rubber and the quiet immediately settled my thoughts. This place had always been my refuge.

I walked toward Uncle Will’s workbench intending to put away a handful of sockets I’d borrowed

the day before.

As I reached for the handle of his battered red toolbox, the metal gave way with a sharp snap.

The worn leather handle finally broke after years of holding together and the heavy toolbox slipped from my hand and landed on the concrete floor with a loud clang.

Sockets scattered in every direction, old screwdrivers rolled beneath the workbench and a handful of wrenches spun across the floor before finally coming to rest.

I stood perfectly still and for anyone else, it would’ve just been a broken toolbox.

To me, it felt like another piece of Uncle Will slipping away.

I slowly knelt on the concrete floor and began gathering the scattered tools one by one.

Every socket carried tinu scratches from years of use.

Every wrench had passed through Uncle Will’s hands hundreds of times before it ever reached mine.

Nothing inside that toolbox had been expensive but every piece was priceless.

As I picked up an old ratchet, a memory surfaced without warning.

I was ten years old, sitting cross legged on this very floor after accidentally dropping the toolbox while truying to carry it by myself.

Tools had rolled everywhere and I’d burst into tears because I thought Uncle Will would be angry. But instead, he crouched beside me with a smile.

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CHAPTER 27 2

“Tools are meant to get scratched, kiddo. People matter more than toolboxes.”

+23 Pamti

We’d laughed while collecting every socket together and the memory made me smile through the tightness in my chest.

“I still miss you.” I muttered to myself.

I carried the toolbox onto the workbench and examined the broken handle and the leather had finally cracked beyond repair after decades of hard work.

Fortunately the metal brackets were still solid and I disappeared into the storage room before

returning with a strip of thick saddle leather I’d been saving for another project.

An hour later the toolbox sat proudly on the bench with a brand new homemade handle fastened

into place.

It wasn’t exactly the same but it wasn’t supposed to be and I ran my hand across the fresh leather before quietly nodding to myself.

“You’d probably approve.” I said to Uncle Will.

As I looked around the workshop, something unexpected occurred to me.

For months I’d been trying to preserve everything exactly as Uncle Will left it because I was terrified of losing him.

Now Lawson Customs wasn’t just full of his memories anymore. Ben’s crooked labels still clung to cabinets. Mia’s color coded filing system had transformed the office and fresh paint covered the walls. And laughter echoed through the building almost every day.

This place wasn’t becoming less his, it was becoming outs.

The sound of an engine outside drew my attention and I glanced toward the front window.

Across the street a black pickup truck sat parked beneath a row of trees.

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