The story she had accepted for as long as she could remember.
Her family had always been told that Henry Brooks died in another state.
But the biker standing in front of her had just described something very different.
He remembered Henry building his first Harley.
He remembered owing Henry money.
And he remembered Henry disappearing before he could pay him.
Emma felt the happiness drain from her face.
She had entered this garage expecting to help a stranger diagnose a motorcycle.
She’d listened to a stubborn engine.
She’d identified a moisture-related electrical failure that seventeen mechanics couldn’t find.
She’d uncovered a hairline crack hidden inside a connector.
And now, because of the name embroidered across her shirt, she had heard something that threatened the only explanation her family had ever known about her grandfather.
Ace saw her expression.
He understood immediately that his words had landed somewhere he hadn’t expected.
But he didn’t yet understand why.
Emma looked from his face to the custom Harley.
Then toward her pink toolbox.
A few minutes earlier, she’d been proud that someone remembered Henry Brooks for building a motorcycle.
Now she couldn’t stop thinking about the difference between the two stories.
Her family had been told Henry died in another state.
Ace Carter remembered him disappearing.
And for the first time in her life, Emma wondered how much of her grandfather’s story she had never really known.
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