Neither of them spoke for a minute after that. They sat there and shared the rest of Bryce’s potato skins. He almost teased Nick about it—they were obviously better than Nick originally said—but he didn’t.

When they finished, Bryce threw the trash away, and then there they were again, just sitting there. It was late. He had no reason not to head inside and hit the sack, but still he didn’t move.

“What’s so special about her?” Nick asked after a few minutes.

“Who?”

“The bike.”

Hmm... Bryce wasn’t sure he knew how to put it into words. He’d never had someone ask him that before, but for some reason, he was glad that Nick did. “Other than the fact that she’s a pretty bike? That she’s a good bike? I don’t know...I guess it’s just that she’s mine. It wasn’t running when I got it. It was old and hadn’t been taken care of. I’m tearing it apart and rebuilding her. When something’s not perfect, I start over. There’s no rush, no one telling me what they want me to do, and when it’s done, I’ll be able to say that I did that, that I made this bike exactly what I want, by myself. No one but me.” Bryce didn’t know why that mattered to him, but it did. “I’ll tell you a secret. Sometimes when I’m out here working on her, I’m really not. I’ll fuck around, check things out, but not really work on her. When she’s done, she’s done. Not sure why I want to make it last.”

“Because you’re in love... you don’t want to say goodbye.”

Even though he wouldn’t be saying goodbye to the bike, what Nick said somehow made sense to him. And yeah, he was in love with what he was doing to this bike. It took Nick voicing it for Bryce to realize why he wanted this to last. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“I think my dad was disappointed that I wasn’t as much into things like this as I was cooking. He never said anything, and it wasn’t that we weren’t close or anything. I loved being outdoors, playing sports, he went to all my games as a kid; but as much as I loved that stuff, I always loved cooking more.” Bryce didn’t turn, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nick look at him. “I’ve never said that aloud before. That I think part of me was a disappointment to him.”

Bryce was honored Nick said it to him. “You know what you love, that’s all that matters. Don’t ever feel bad about that. It takes most people a lot longer to figure out what makes them happy. You always knew and you went for it. I respect the hell out of you for it.” This time Bryce did turn to Nick. “Wanna help me?” He couldn’t believe he’d just asked that, but he had, and he was okay with it.

“Do I want to help you with what?”

“The bike.” His Shovelhead. His baby. The bike that he wanted to do by himself. What in the fuck made him ask Nick that? Still, he added, “I’ll teach you a few things.”

“No.” Nick shook his head. “I can’t do that. This is your project.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.” And that was the truth. Bryce didn’t play games. He said what he meant. “We won’t work on her too long. We won’t do much, but you can help me do a few things tonight.”

There was a pause, and then Nick smiled. “Yeah, sure, that’d be great.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

They worked on the bike for a little over an hour. Bryce was more serious than he usually was when he spoke about the Shovelhead. His eyes never left Nick as he’d instruct him what to do, like he was afraid Nick would screw up.

He didn’t. It wasn’t that he was completely ignorant when it came to these things. He understood how mechanics worked. He’d fixed plenty of things that had gone wrong on his cars in the past, but this felt different. Partly because the motorcycle was Bryce’s baby. Because Bryce kept the bike here so no one else could touch it, yet he let Nick now. And he seemed to enjoy that they were working on it together. Also because tonight, working on this bike right now, felt like something he was doing for his dad. Something Bryce gave him to do for his father, and Nick hadn’t realized it, but he might have needed that.

When they finished working on the bike, he figured they’d make their way to their separate houses for the night...but they didn’t. It was nearly two in the morning, but Bryce grabbed them another beer and they sat there drinking them.

They didn’t talk about anything important—crazy shit they’d done when they were kids, trips they’d taken, things like that. Time kept passing and they kept thinking of things to talk about.