Returning to a place like that is like reopening a wound.

  But sometimes pain is the only path forward.

  The first thing Evan did when he got home was search for motorcycle repair shops.

  He filtered the reviews by rating — and one name stood out on top:

  Lakeview Motors.

  The comments were brief but convincing:

  "Efficient."

  "Fast."

  "Cheap."

  "Best place for bikers."

  Evan froze.

  Lakeview.

  The town he never wanted to see again.

  The place where everything began — and fell apart.

  It felt like fate was pushing him there on purpose.

  He felt it tightening inside him.

  

A sign, he thought. That means I have to go.

  He rented a pickup, loaded the crushed wreckage of his bike into the bed,

  and drove toward the town that had become a graveyard of memory.

  It took him an hour and a half to get there.

  Lakeview greeted him with silence.

  Narrow streets.

  Houses with peeling paint, faded by the sun.

  Stillness.

  A year had passed, but nothing seemed to have changed.

  Except him.

  Now everything felt strange — and painfully familiar.

  The streets clung to him like cobwebs of regret.

  Claire.

  Her shadow drifted between the houses.

  Her dreams, her voice, the future she never got to live —

  it all lingered here.

  He felt it with every cell of his body.

  He pulled over and turned off the engine.

  Up ahead, just around the bend — the street where she used to live.

  For a moment, he thought he saw her:

  A slim figure.

  Hair fluttering in the wind.

  She smiled. Waved at him.

  A mirage.

  A ghost.

  The image dissolved,

  leaving behind a bitter taste in his mouth.

  

It was my fault. I destroyed her life.

  He closed his eyes.

  Drew in a long breath.

  Tried to pull himself together.

  He would visit her grave.

  But not today.

  Today, he didn't have the strength.

  He started the engine

  and drove on.

  The shop sat at the edge of town, just off the main road.

  A modest building of pale brick, the sign above it read: Lakeview Motors.

  In the yard: a couple of rusted bikes and an old car with its hood up.

  Evan parked the pickup, turned off the engine, and stepped inside.

  No one behind the counter.

  From somewhere deeper in the building came the sound of metal clanging and a drill whirring.

  He followed the noise.

  The air thickened with the scent of motor oil and hot steel.

  Near a heavy iron workbench stood a young woman.

  Her coveralls were streaked with grease, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail — also smudged with oil.

  Strangely enough, it suited her.

  Evan instinctively assessed her:

  Five foot three, maybe a hundred ten pounds. Small frame, but strong. Knows what she's doing.

  "Hey," he called out.

  She looked up, wiping her hands on a rag.

  Her eyes — green like grass after rain — studied him closely.

  "I'm Ginny. Owner of the place," she said, offering her hand.

  Her voice was low, slightly husky. Almost smoky.

  "Evan. I've got a problem with my bike," he began, but then stopped.

  His gaze landed on the wall.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  A helmet. His helmet.

  "Where did that come from?" he asked sharply.

  Ginny turned. Looked at the helmet. Then back at him.

  "Found it at my uncle's. It's yours?"

  He nodded.

  Something clenched in his chest.

  "So you're the guy who crashed on the curve," she said quietly.

  "Was it because of Claire?"

  He nodded again. No words.

  Ginny stepped closer.

  "Claire was my cousin," she said, softer now. "She told me about you.

  You changed her life.

  And mine too..."

  Evan gave her a questioning look.

  "I saw you once, riding past.

  Back then I was cleaning floors in a store.

  I knew I needed to change something in my life — but I didn't know what.

  Then I saw your ride...

  And something clicked.

  I knew I wanted to learn how engines breathe.

  To bring machines back to life.

  To understand what makes them tick.

  I decided to become a mechanic."

  She told him how she started fixing up old bikes,

  studying mechanics, finding allies among the biker crowd.

  Eventually, a group called Burning Wheels helped her open the shop.

  "So," she smiled, "you think you wrecked her life.

  But I think you gave us a chance."

  Evan said nothing. Just looked at her.

  "Alright," Ginny said, patting him on the shoulder. "Let's see what's left of your beast."

  Outside, Evan opened the truck bed.

  Ginny let out a low whistle.

  "Be honest. How fast were you going?"

  "A hundred miles an hour."

  "Damn. You're lucky to be breathing.

  The frame's toast. Maybe we can save the engine.

  It's gonna be a lot of work."

  She pulled out a tablet and started jotting things down.

  "When can it be ready? I need the bike ASAP."

  "Two days.

  Biker rally on Saturday — I'll be there.

  Come find me. They're doing a Queen of the Rally thing.

  You can root for someone if you want."

  "Deal."

  The conversation was cut short by the roar of an engine.

  A girl rolled up the driveway on a motorcycle.

  She stopped with practiced ease, swung her leg over the seat,

  took off her helmet — and shook loose a cascade of long blonde hair.

  Evan froze.

  He knew her.

  Stephanie.

  The first girl from the list PULSAR had given him.

  "Hey, Gin," she called, tossing her helmet aside.

  "Stop messing with that junk already."

  "Steph? What the hell?" Ginny snorted.

  Instead of answering, Stephanie walked up and hugged her.

  Then, without warning, pressed her lips to Ginny's.

  Ginny's eyes went wide. She pushed her away, laughing.

  "Hey! What the hell was that? Are you insane?"

  Stephanie shook her head with a smirk.

  "Just missed you, that's all.

  Relax — I'm here on business. I need a headlight changed. Fast."

  "Alright, alright," Ginny muttered, shaking her head but smiling anyway.

  Stephanie's gaze slid over to Evan.

  He had been standing there the whole time, watching.

  Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with mischief.

  "Hey, handsome. You always drive like that?

  Hope the... essential parts made it through the crash.

  I remember you. Happy to see me?"

  "Always," Evan replied flatly, doing his best to hide the embarrassment.

  While Ginny worked on the headlight, Stephanie kept teasing Evan.

  Throwing jabs, flashing smiles, watching his every reaction.

  And then — just like that — she swung back onto her bike.

  Shouted something over her shoulder.

  Took off, leaving behind exhaust smoke and a trail of controlled chaos.

  Ginny wiped her hands and glanced at Evan with a sheepish smile.

  "She's... an old friend from the club.

  And no — I'm not into girls, if that's what you're wondering."

  "That explains a lot," Evan said with a smirk.

  Ginny chuckled.

  Then her expression shifted — more serious now.

  "You know... I think she's into you.

  That whole performance? That was for you."

  Evan didn't reply.

  He just smiled slightly.

  As he turned to leave, something on the shelf caught his eye.

  Among the repair manuals and parts catalogs sat a book.

  Black cover.

  Gold lettering on the spine.

  He reached for it.

  "Schopenhauer?" he asked, eyebrows rising. "You read this?"

  Ginny blushed slightly.

  "Well... yeah."

  "You're into philosophy?"

  "Not really.

  Steph gave me that book.

  We had a bet.

  I lost — had to read it."

  Evan stared at the cover.

  Processing.

  "Stephanie brought you Schopenhauer?"

  "I know. Crazy, right?

  But she basically forced me to read it.

  And I actually didn't regret it.

  Didn't understand a damn thing — but it was interesting."

  Evan nodded slowly.

  Put the book back on the shelf.

  Turned to her.

  "I'll come to the rally. Cheer for you."

  Ginny laughed:

  "Not for me, Ev.

  You'll be cheering for Steph.

  She's the reigning queen."

  Evan smirked:

  "Not surprised.

  Does she wear the crown?"

  "Only the invisible kind," Ginny grinned.

  "But trust me, with her — it's more than enough."

  She pointed toward the garage.

  "Park your bike in the third bay.

  That's where we'll bring it back to life."

  Evan nodded.

  Did as she said.

  Then he climbed into the pickup.

  Started the engine.

  Waved to her as he pulled out.

  "See you, Gin."

  "Good luck, Ev.

  I'll be waiting Saturday."

  He smiled.

  And for the first time in a long while,

  he felt it:

  The past had finally let him go.

  

  Author’s Note

  This chapter wasn't about repairing a motorcycle.

  It was about what remains broken: steel, memories, people.

  ?? System update in progress: One new chapter every day this week (April 14–20).

  Next: Chapter 7 — The Spark and the Wrench

  ? Ginny's 48-hour race against time

  ? Stephanie's dangerous rally gambit

  ? The night everything changes

  "Some engines need to break completely before they can run right."

  

  ?? Pulse Check

  Which moment lingered with you?

  ? Evan's ghost-town homecoming

  ? Ginny's unexpected confession

  ? Stephanie's explosive entrance

  Even a single emoji helps this story's heartbeat.