“Or anything, you know; vans, buses, motorcycles. I think it’s all interesting.”
“I didn’t know you were into that,” said Billie.
“I had a ’69 Chevelle SS I worked on through high school. Sold it in my senior year and was planning to use the funds for college, even get a house,” I explained. “Instead… it all went to supporting the pack.” Because my parents had died just before I graduated high school and left me with no income other than their life insurance payout, and that could only last so long, and I suddenly had a pack of wolves to feed. I missed working on that old car. Without a hobby like that to occupy my mind, I found myself dwelling too much on my day-to-day stress. At least I had onions to pick tonight.
“Sorry to hear that,” Billie murmured.
I glanced back. “It’s fine.
