Ride With Me (Paige and Jace) novel Chapter 78

CHAPTER 47

For several long moments neither of us moved. The old fuel tank sat between us on the workbench while my flashlight continued shining through the filler opening. Whatever was hidden inside had been wrapped carefully before being tucked into a narrow cavity along one side of the tank and it was obvious Uncle Will had never intended for it to fall out accidentally so Jace

crouched beside the motorcycle.

“Can you reach it?” I asked.

“I think so.” He said.

I walked across the workshop and returned with one of my longest flexible grabber tools. Uncle Will had bought it years ago after spending nearly an entire afternoon trying to retrieve a washer that had somehow disappeared inside an engine block. He’d grumbled about stubborn machinery for hours afterward before declaring that every decent mechanic needed the right tool for every ridiculous situation. Apparently, he had been preparing me for moments exactly like this.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m taking the whole tank apart.” I said.

“I had a feeling you’d say that.” He said and I smiled faintly.

“I’ve never met a bolt I couldn’t annoy into cooperating.” I said.

Jace laughed quietly and folded his arms while giving me enough room to work.

“I’ll leave the arguing between you and the motorcycle.” Jace said.

“It usually loses.” I said.

“You’re very confident.” Jace said.

“I’ve had years of practice.” I said.

Taking a slow breath, I crouched beside the workbench and carefully fed the flexible tool through

the narrow filler neck. I couldn’t see what I was aiming for anymore, so I relied entirely on feel,

moving the grabber a fraction at a time until I sensed it brush against something wrapped in

fabric.

“There it is.” I said and Jace leaned forward slightly.

“You’ve got it?” He asked.

“I think so.” I said and I carefully squeezed the handle. The tiny jaws closed around something soft

but solid.

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CHAPTER 47

“Got it.” I said.

“Easy.” He said.

“I know.” I said.

Chor

Millimeter by millimeter, I eased the bundle upward, stopping every few seconds whenever it

caught against the inside of the tank. The last thing I wanted was to tear whatever had been hidden there. Nearly thirty years had passed since Uncle Will last owned this motorcycle and it felt almost unbelievable that anything made of paper could have survived inside it for so long.

Finally, the bundle slipped free. It was wrapped in oil stained waxed cloth that had somehow protected it from years of dust, moisture and old fuel fumes. The fabric was brittle around the edges, but it had done its job remarkably well.

I laid it gently on the workbench as though it might fall apart if I handled it too roughly. Neither of us spoke and something about the moment felt strangely personal. Almost sacred.

The workshop seemed unusually quiet and even the ticking of the old wall clock sounded louder

than normal.

I slowly untied the faded cotton string holding the bundle together before carefully peeling back the layers of waxed cloth. Inside rested an old cream colored envelope.

Across the front, written in the handwriting I would have recognized anywhere, were four simple

words.

For Paige. One Day.

My throat tightened and Jace quietly stepped back without saying anything. He understood that this wasn’t just a letter. It was one final conversation.

I carefully opened the envelope and unfolded several handwritten pages, taking care not to crease the fragile paper any further than time already had.

The paper had yellowed with age but Uncle Will’s writing remained neat and steady.

I took a slow breath before beginning to read.

“If you’re reading this, then you finally found the old motorcycle again.”

A small laugh escaped me before tears could.

“That sounds like him.” I said and Jace smiled softly.

“It does.” He said so I continued.

“First, I’m proud of you. Not because you found this letter, and not because you rebuilt the motorcycle.

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CHAPTER 47

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I’m proud of you because I know you’ll only be reading this after you’ve grown into the kind of womán

who finishes what she starts.”

The words blurred almost immediately and I swallowed hard. The workshop seemed to disappear

around me and all I could hear was Uncle Will’s voice inside my head.

“Life will try convincing you that easy money solves hard problems. It doesn’t. People will offer to buy Lawson Customs one day. Some will wave more money than either of us ever imagined. Don’t let anyone convince you that this place isn’t worth fighting for.” I read aloud as my grip tightened around

the paper.

He knew. Years before Charles ever tried buying the garage, Uncle Will had somehow expected exactly that conversation so I kept reading.

“This garage isn’t valuable because of the land beneath it. It’s valuable because honest people built honest lives inside these walls. If you ever decide to sell, make sure it’s because you chose to. Never because somebody else bullied you into believing you had no choice.” I read as a tear slipped onto the page and I wiped it away before it could smear the ink. Jace remained silent beside me. He never rushed me. Never interrupted and that was one of the things I loved most about him.

Near the bottom of the final page another sentence waited.

“There’s something else I wanted you to have.” I read aloud and I looked inside the envelope again. A photograph slid into my hand and it showed two young bikers standing beside a pair of motorcycles somewhere in the countryside.

One of them smiled exactly the way Uncle Will always smiled in old photographs. The other man stood beside him with one arm thrown across his shoulders. Both looked no older than their early twenties. I studied the second man carefully.

Dark hair, easy grin, leather vest without club colors and I frowned.

“I’ve never seen him before. Do you recognize him?” I said as I turned the photograph over. Nothing had been written on the back and I handed the picture to Jace.

He accepted it casually and then his expression changed. The color drained from his face. He stared at the photograph for several long seconds without blinking.

“Jace?” I asked and he didn’t answer immediately.

His thumb brushed lightly across the edge of the old picture.

“I know him.” Jace said and I looked at him in surprise.

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