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At our next stop, we met up with the Comets at a rundown bar that reminded me of the Hog. I was instantly homesick. While I had plenty of complaints about the Hog, it had somehow snuck into my heart. The people, the horrible smell, the sticky floors. Jack’s food was always the best and completely bad for my waistline.
“Mars!”
I looked over to find my dad wading through the bikers with his helmet under his arm. I hugged him, thanking all of his beloved stars that he was here and okay. But I also wished he was safely at home. I hated that he was about to ride to Boston with us, knowing there was trouble ahead. He wasn’t a fighter or a sharp shooter. He was a teacher and a star gazer on the search for a wormhole. There was no telling what would happen. At least if he was at home, I coul
