CHAPTER 34
Luke
Around mid-afternoon, a rusting, beat-up old Chevy C30 from the sixties grumbles up the gravel track, its engine rattling like it’s held together by stubbornness alone. It winds behind the retreat center and pulls up beside Tal’s shed, my own little Chevy Impala—looking like a toy by comparison—hitched behind it on the massive towbar.
Talon follows close behind in his truck and rolls in alongside, cutting the engine in one smooth motion. The two men climb down from their cabs and get straight to work, moving with the easy coordination of people who’ve done this a hundred times before. Chains loosen, metal clinks, and my car is carefully lowered until all four wheels settle back onto the ground with a soft crunch of gravel.
They exchange a few words I can’t quite make out from the distance. A small handful of bills passes between them, quick and casual, and then they shake hands. Tal’s friend backs up the tow truck, swings it around in a wide arc, and heads back toward the road without so much as a backward glance.
Talon doesn’t come inside. Of course he doesn’t.
Instead of grabbing a coffee or even acknowledging the existence of food like a normal human being, he disappearsstraight into the shed. A minute later he’s back out again, hauling a massive toolkit in those bear-like hands, already mentally somewhere else. Already working.
I watch him for a second, then sigh, shaking my head, though there’s a smile tugging at my mouth. Trying to change him would be like trying to hold back the tide. Pointless.
Better to meet him where he is.
Better to show up.
There’s still fresh coffee in the jug, so I fill a thermos, grab a couple of sandwiches, and cut a generous slice of the cherry cake Hazel insisted we take home with us this morning. I stack everything into a small basket, add a napkin and a mug, then head back out toward the shed, the gravel crunching under my boots as I go.
He doesn’t move when I arrive, though he must have heard me coming. He’s bent over the engine, tools clanking against metal in a steady rhythm. The hood blocks his face, but I can picture the look anyway—total focus, like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
I circle around, creeping closer, and wait for the perfect moment before slamming my hand hard against the door.
Disappointingly, he doesn’t jump or crack his head on the hood like in a cheap comedy. He doesn’t even swear. His head just shifts enough to send me a flat glare.
I waggle my eyebrows and grin.
“Always a classic,” I say as he straightens and takes the lunch basket from me. “So? How’s it looking, partner?”
“Not good,” he says. “Can’t say for certain yet, but it looks like the big end’s gone.” He wipes his hands on a rag.
“Big end? Sounds expensive.” I don’t know much about mechanics, but I know enough to hear the word engine replacement hiding behind that.
“Yeah. Either a full rebuild or a replacement. Rebuild means specialist work we don’t have here.”
“Then is it even worth it?” I nod toward the car. “On an old Impala?”
We both look at it for a moment, sitting there like it’s offended we’re talking about it. Talon exhales through his nose.
“You’re right,” he says. “But that means?—”
“Yeah. Means she gets a new car.” I grin.
He looks at me like I’ve missed something obvious. “What’s to be happy about?”
“Oh, come on. If she’s staying up here, there’s no way she can keep driving that thing. It barely made it the first time—actually, it didn’t. I had to go get her.” I gesture at the car. “You really okay with her driving that through winter?”
He shakes his head, slow this time.
“Exactly. Let’s buy her something proper. Truck, preferably. Four-wheel drive, decent clearance, heater that actually works.” I shrug. “Problem solved.”
“It was hard enough getting her to accept help the first time,” he says. “I don’t know how to get her to accept us buying her a whole car.”
“Tell her it’s no big deal. Tell her you’re loaded. Tell her I’ll confirm you’ve got more money than sense.”
“I don’t think that will matter. It’s the principle for her.”