Zoe
I showed up at the shop the next morning before anyone told me to, mostly because staying in that guest room one more hour with nothing but my own thoughts felt like it might break something in me. Work had always been the one place grief couldn't quite reach me. My hands stayed busy, my mind stayed busy, and for a little while I could just be a mechanic instead of a girl whose whole life had burned down twice in eight months.
The shop was already half full when I got there, a handful of club members moving around the bays with the easy familiarity of men who'd worked together for years. Conversation dropped the second they noticed me, not completely, but enough that I felt it. A couple of nods. A couple of stares that lingered too long. Nobody said good morning.
I found an empty co
