Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 76

AMPTER 46 1

CHAPTER 46-1

Sunday afternoons were usually the quietest part of my week. Lawson Customs sat closed behind its roller doors, the phones stayed mercifully silent and for a few precious hours I could walk through the workshop without thinking about repair schedules, invoices or whether Ben had accidentally installed something backwards.

I had just finished carrying a basket of clean laundry upstairs to the apartment when I noticed something unusual through the front window. A pickup truck sat in the parking lot. Behind it was a small enclosed trailer.

George Miller leaned against the driver’s door with his baseball cap pulled low over his eyes and a grin that immediately made me suspicious and I looked at the clock.

“You’re here on a Sunday.” I said and he looked up as I walked downstairs.

“I am.” He said.

“That’s never a good sign.” I said.

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.” He said.

“I usually am. But you’re smiling like someone who’s about to create paperwork.” I said as I folded my arms and George laughed.

“I don’t think this one needs paperwork.” He said.

“Famous last words.” I said and he nodded toward the trailer.

“I brought you something.” He said.

I stopped beside him and looked at the enclosed trailer.

“I didn’t order anything.” I said.

“I know.” He said.

“If this is another motorcycle, Hunter talked you into it.” I said.

“It wasn’t Hunter.” He said.

“Derek?” I asked.

“No.” He said.

“Jace?” I asked and George chuckled.

“You’re running out of club members.” He said and I sighed dramatically.

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“Just tell me before my imagination gets worse.” I said.

“I’d rather show you.” He said.

He walked to the back of the trailer, released the catches and lowered the ramp. Inside sat a motorcycle hidden beneath a faded canvas tarp. The shape alone made me pause and George

looked at me.

“Go on.” He said I stepped closer and slowly folded the tarp back.

Dust drifted into the afternoon sunlight and beneath it sat an old vintage motorcycle coated in years of dirt, faded paint and surface rust.

The tires had long since gone flat. Chrome that once shone brightly now carried patches of corrosion. Spider webs stretched between the handlebars and the mirrors and dry leaves still

rested across the seat.

My heart skipped because I knew that motorcycle. Not because I had seen it recently. Because I had seen it a hundred times growing up. Old photographs hanging in Uncle Will’s apartment

flashed through my mind.

Pictures of him smiling beside the same fuel tank. The same front fender, the same custom leather saddle with its distinctive stitched pattern. I reached out slowly and rested my fingertips

against the handlebars.

“No way.” I said and George smiled.

“You recognize it.” He said.

“This…this was Uncle Will’s.” I said as my voice caught.

“It certainly was.” He said and I looked at him in disbelief.

“I thought he sold it decades ago.” I said.

“He did. I helped an older family clear out a property about forty minutes outside town earlier this

week. This was sitting in the back of a collapsing shed beneath enough junk to fill three dumpsters.” He said as George leaned against the trailer as he nodded toward the motorcycle.

I slowly walked around the motorcycle. Even beneath the dust, familiar details stood out. A tiny dent near the headlight housing and the handmade bracket Uncle Will once told me had taken him an entire weekend to fabricate because he refused to buy one.

The old leather tool roll still strapped behind the seat and I smiled despite the sting building behind

my eyes.

“He always said this was the first motorcycle he ever really loved.” I said and George nodded.

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CHAPTER 46 1

“The owner bought it from him years ago.” He said.

“What happened?” I asked.

Charl

“He passed away a few months ago. His kids didn’t know the history, and they planned on sending

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