Caelin
The garage is hopping, like always. I don’t think I can remember a time since I’ve been born that we’ve been slow. If you ask the old-timers, like my dad and Liam, they’ll tell you of lean years for the club. I’m glad I haven’t had to experience them.
Today I’m working on this truck by myself. Which is nice because of the thoughts rolling around in my head. This morning with Justice was more than I thought it would be. Telling her that she scares me was a declaration I didn’t intend to make. But here we are. Once words are said aloud, they can’t be taken back. That’s a lesson I learned at a young age.
There’s a smell and a sound that reminds me of home every time I work at Walker’s Wheels. If I can’t be in my office, then this is where I would much rather spend my time. My wrench slips, causing me to bang my hand against the metal of the part next to it. “Shit.” I wince, dropping the wrench with a clatter onto the floor and pulling my already-bruising knuckles out.