Chapter 36
Finn
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The oil and exhaust fumes of the motorcycle shop brought back a sense of familiarity Finn hadn't realized he'd missed until he stepped through the door.
The shop was larger than he'd expected from the outside.
Rows of bikes in various states of repair lined the space, rollaway toolboxes littered the area, air hoses strung overhead, and the low hum of music from a radio in the corner.
Carl, the owner, walked beside Finn with a clipboard tucked under one arm. He was a thick-shouldered man in his fifties with a beard that looked like it had seen more engines than razors. He had the easy confidence of someone who'd spent his whole life around machines.
"So," Carl said as they walked past a row of newer models, "you said you've done some mechanic work before?"
Finn nodded, keeping his expression neutral. "Yeah. A long time ago."
Probably before Carl was born. While he couldn't share his real age, he had more experience than anyone in the shop with the right motorcycles. But these newer models were going to be a problem.
"How long?" Carl glanced at him.
Finn hesitated. The truth wasn't an option. "Long enough to know my way around an engine."
Carl grunted, not quite satisfied. "These bikes aren't what they used to be. There's a lot more electronics on them now. A lot more computer work. You comfortable with that?"
Finn swallowed. The motorcycles he'd ridden with the club, the ones he'd fixed with his own hands, were simpler. These new ones looked like they needed an engineering degree just to change the oil.
But Kallie had told him she'd help him learn anything he didn't know. She'd said it with that fierce, unwavering confidence in him. It made him believe he could do anything.
"What I don't know, I'm a quick learner," Finn said.
There were signs that the shop was owned by a club. He hoped he was right and that, when it came down to it, he could get the job with a handshake.
Carl studied him for a moment, then nodded and continued the tour.
They walked past the service bays, the parts counter, and the small office in the back.
Finn listened carefully, absorbing every detail, every expectation.
He needed this. He needed to prove he could build a life here, for Kallie's sake as much as his own.
Then a bike caught his eye.
An older Harley sat in the corner of the shop, half-covered with a tarp. The chrome was dull, the paint faded, but the bones were unmistakable. Finn stepped away from Carl without thinking, drawn to it like a magnet.
He lifted the tarp gently, revealing the full frame.
A 1976 Harley-Davidson FLH Electra Glide.
He ran his hand along the tank, his fingers tracing the familiar lines. "This is beautiful," he murmured.
Carl raised an eyebrow. "You know that bike?"
Finn nodded, his voice soft with something like reverence. "Yeah. '76 Electra Glide. Shovelhead engine. Four-speed. They only made this paint scheme for a couple of years. She's got the original pipes, too. Hard to find those intact."
Carl's eyebrows shot up. "Well, damn. Most guys your age don't know half that shit."
Finn shrugged, but inside, something warm flickered. He understood this lifestyle. He was comfortable.
Carl crossed his arms, studying him with new interest. "You ever rebuild one of these?"
"Not this exact model," Finn said, "but close."
Carl let out a low whistle. "You're either the real deal or the best liar I've ever met."
Finn didn't flinch. "I'm the real deal."
A slow grin spread across Carl's face. "Good. Because I could use someone who knows their way around the old stuff. Kids these days don't want to touch anything without a computer port." He extended his hand. "You want the job?"
Finn stared at the offered hand for a heartbeat. "Do you mind paying me under the table?"
"I can manage that." Carl dipped his chin. "You want the job?"
"Yeah," he said. "I want it."
Carl clapped him on the shoulder. "Welcome aboard, Finn."
Finn exhaled, a weight lifted from his chest. If he could make this work, he could afford to give Kallie the life she deserved.
Finn shook hands with Carl again before stepping away from the motorcycle. The shop was louder now, the afternoon crew filtering in, the clatter of tools and the rumble of engines filling the air. Carl led him to the back, where a few mechanics were gathered around a stripped-down sport bike.
"Boys," Carl said, "this is Finn. He's gonna be helping out around here starting Monday."
A few nods, a couple of curious glances. One tall, tattooed guy with grease up to his elbows gave Finn a quick assessment. "You ride?"
"Used to," Finn said.
"Good enough." The guy lifted his chin. "Name's Wheat."
Finn watched them work, trying to absorb the mood of the place. The tools were familiar, but the machines were not. Wires hung on the motorcycles where there had been none before. Screens replaced gauges.
This world. This time. Everything was different.
Faster. Louder. More chaotic.
The differences settled around him. The years he'd lost, the decades he'd skipped, the technology that had sprinted ahead without him.
But determination grew inside him. He would learn to work on the motorcycles.
He would make it work. He would build a life here, for Kallie's sake as much as his own.
After meeting the rest of the crew and getting a rundown of his start date, Finn stepped outside. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the pavement. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started the walk back to the apartment.
Every step a little faster, knowing Kallie was nervous for him. She'd watched the clock that morning, afraid to see him walk out, yet too supportive to stop him from going to the interview.
She was afraid he'd wander too far or cross the wrong street or brush up against something outside his wheelhouse.
He couldn't blame her. He'd kept his worries to himself. He was afraid of things, but mostly he was determined not to disappoint Kallie.
When he reached the apartment building, the air carried a faint scent of laundry detergent and someone's burnt dinner. He paused outside the door, took a breath, then unlocked it.
Kallie was on the couch, knees pulled to her chest, staring at the door like she'd been doing it for hours. The moment she saw him, she shot to her feet.
"Finn!"
He barely had time to close the door before she threw her arms around him. He caught her easily, lifting her off the ground as she buried her face in his neck. Her breath trembled against his skin.
"You're home," she whispered.
"Yeah," he murmured, holding her close.
She pulled back just enough to search his face, her eyes wide and curious. "Are you okay? Did everything go all right? You were gone so long."
He walked her backward. "Everything went fine."
A whisper of relief escaped her. "Really?"
He nodded, and a slow smile spread across his face. "I got the job."
"No." She swiftly inhaled. "Oh, my God, really?"
"Yeah," he repeated, softer this time.
Kallie's hands flew to her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. She let out a shaky laugh and threw her arms around him again, hugging him so tightly he felt it in his ribs.
"Finn, that's amazing," she whispered. "I'm so proud of you."
He closed his eyes, absorbing her happiness. This moment made every risk worth it. He had a job, a place, and Kallie.
Later, after she reheated dinner and they sat on the couch with plates balanced on their knees, Finn let himself relax completely. Kallie kept glancing at him as if she couldn't believe he was really there, and each time, something warm bloomed in his chest.
"My boss seems like a decent guy." He shoveled in a forkful of pasta. "There was an old Harley in the shop. Man, she was a beauty. It reminded me of the bike I had in Everstill."
She listened with wide eyes and a smile that made him feel ten feet tall. "Do you miss riding?"
"There's nothing else like it." He swallowed.
There were times he and Moe rode together in Everstill, and he'd felt something like memories surface. But the details remained out of reach.
"I bet you'll learn a lot." She wiped her mouth on her napkin. "Did you say your hours will be during the day?"
"Yeah, seven to four."
"That's perfect." She carried her plate to the kitchen. "We'll both get off around the same time."
"It's only a mile and a half from here, too. Not far to walk." He reached for his glass, and something shifted at the edge of his vision.
A ripple in the air.
He froze.
It was quick—so quick he almost convinced himself he'd imagined it. The lamp beside the couch dimmed for a heartbeat, then brightened again. He tilted his head. The air felt heavy, like the moment before a glitch in Everstill.
Finn's pulse kicked up.
His hand tightened around the glass.
But when he looked directly at the corner of the room—nothing. Just the wall. Just the lamp. Just the quiet apartment he shared with the woman he loved.
Kallie didn't seem to notice. She returned to the couch and leaned against his side, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around her automatically, pulling her close.
"You okay?" she murmured.
He hesitated for a second, then nodded. "Yeah. Long day."
She smiled, brushing her cheek against his shirt. "A good day."
He looked down at her, at the trust in her eyes, at how she fit against him.
"Yeah," he said softly. "A good day."
But as he held her, his gaze drifted back to the corner of the room—to the place where the shadow had flickered.
It was gone.
Everything looked normal.
But Finn knew better than most that some things didn't stay behind.
Some places didn't let go.
Some rules followed you, even when you crossed the veil.
He tightened his arm around Kallie, pulling her closer, as if he could shield her from something he couldn't see.
He wouldn't let Everstill take anything else from him.
Not here.
Not now.
Not her.
Even if the shadows had followed them home.