Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“It’s fucking strange, though. Everything feels the exact same. It’s like the moment I drove into town I went through a time portal where we all look older but nothing else has changed.”
“No shit,” Shane replied. “I’ll drink to that.” They each held their beers up and clanked them together.
“Tell me about your shop,” Van asked him. He was curious about Shane, about his life.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself. I was always good around an engine. It came naturally to me. I used to work with Old Man Davies out at his place in high school.”
“Really?” Van asked. He’d never known that.
“Yeah, he taught me some shit. Would let me fuck around with old cars when they got towed in and no one claimed them. After high school, I traveled back and forth between here and Portland to get my certificate. I worked at some shops out there but the commute was fucking brutal. Took a while for me to get my own place but it’s going well and I get to do something I love every day.”
Yeah, Van too. He didn’t say that though, he just wanted to learn more about Shane. “What’s your favorite thing about it?”
Shane’s dark brows pulled together. “Huh?”
“Your craft. What’s your favorite thing about it?”
He frowned and Van wondered if he’d said something wrong. “No one has ever asked me that before,” Shane replied.
“Then I’m glad I did.” Van finished off his beer while he waited for Shane to answer.
“Well, shit…I don’t know. I guess in a way it feels like bringing something back to life. Cars make sense in ways people don’t, ya know?” he shook his head. “Or not. Christ, look at us, getting all deep and shit.”
Van chuckled, then waited to see if Shane would continue.
“I feel like I understand an engine better than I ever could a person. And I’m fucking good at what I do, which is a plus.” Shane winked and Van grinned.
Van liked him, he realized. Shane was someone he could be friends with. Maybe even someone he could have been friends with twelve years ago if he hadn’t been so fucking scared to open his mouth and go against the grain. “Always a plus,” Van finally replied.
There was a loud rumble that came from the doorway as a group came in laughing and talking.
“Jesus, does the whole fucking town come here on weekends?” Van asked, leaning in so Shane could hear him.
“Not usually. I mean, it’s busy, but not like this. Maybe they all wanted to make an appearance because you’re back.” Shane winked, obviously meaning it playfully but the thought made Van’s gut heavy.
He looked up just as a couple of guys stumbled to the table. “Holy shit! I heard you were back but I didn’t believe it. Maxwell fucking Sullivan. You think you’re too good for us now?”
Van locked eyes with Randy Jensen, one of his friends from high school. The two men and two women beside him looked familiar too but Van couldn’t remember their names.
After a beat, Randy said, “I’m giving you shit. Give me a hug, bro,” and Van stood and did just that. Larry and Brad were the other men, he realized after a few moments. The women were Randy and Brad’s wives.
“We were real sorry to hear about your dad,” Larry said. “Tragedy. He was such a good man.”
Van’s beer suddenly tried to crawl back up his throat. He was tired of people saying that. He cleared his throat. “You all know Shane, right?”
“Hey, man. What’s up?” Randy said to Shane and the others followed along before returning their attention to Van.
They spoke for a few minutes, tried to get Van to join them at the bar, which he declined, before walking away.
Van turned to Shane again. “Sorry, about that, I—”
“Max? Oh my God. Max, is that you?” Tracy nearly tackled him in the booth, giving him a hug.
As soon as she was gone, someone else approached. Then another group. Everyone asked where he’d been, how long he planned to stay…and wanted to talk about his dad. I’m so sorry. God, how did Maxwell Sullivan die? It was like he was invincible. How is your mom doing?
Shane sat quietly and nursed his beer, speaking up every once in a while, when someone asked him about the shop or a car.
Van wanted out of there. The more people who spoke to him, the more he wanted to disappear. When Tate Green finished up his hellos and said, “Hey, why don’t you come over and have a drink with us?” Van opened his mouth to reply, but Shane beat him to it.
“Actually, we were just leaving. Van agreed to help me out with something tonight.” Shane slid out of the booth and stood. He nodded toward the door and gave Van a small smile. “Come on. Let’s get out of here. I’m not letting you off the hook that easily.”