For one horrible second, Caleb thought Marcus was going to count them and explain how embarrassingly insufficient they were.
Instead Marcus folded the bills together once.
Then pushed them firmly back into Caleb’s palm.
“Keep it.”
Caleb stared.
“But the bike—”
“We’re fixing it.”
“For twenty-seven?”
“No.”
Caleb’s throat tightened.
“I don’t have more.”
Marcus’s voice softened.
“I know.”
He closed Caleb’s fingers around the money.
“We’re fixing it for nothing.”
Caleb blinked.
“Why?”
Marcus pointed at the damaged cable.
“Because your mother rides three miles in the dark on a brake cable that was about to let go.”
Caleb looked down.
“She could fall?”
Marcus immediately regretted saying too much.
He lowered his voice.
“That’s why we’re fixing it now.”
Caleb swallowed.
Marcus turned.
“Dean.”
A tall biker with a reddish beard appeared from behind a workbench.
“Yeah?”
“Brake cable.”
Dean examined.
“Pads too.”
“Yep.”
Another man named Luis came over and pressed his thumb into the rear tire.
“That tire’s finished.”
Marcus nodded.
“Replace it.”
Luis inspected the front.
“Front’s got some life.”
“Keep.”
Caleb’s eyes widened.
“I can’t pay for a tire.”
Marcus did not even look at him.
“You’re not.”
“You said—”
“I know what I said.”
Caleb held the twenty-seven dollars tighter.
Marcus pointed to a yellow line painted across the service floor.
“You stay behind that.”
“Why?”
“Because there are hot engines, heavy motorcycles, electricity, compressed air, sharp things, stupid people, and Dean.”
Dean looked offended.
“I am standing right here.”
“Exactly.”
Caleb stepped behind the line.
Marcus rolled the bicycle toward a smaller stand normally used for wheels and light fabrication.
Luis disappeared into parts storage.
Dean began measuring a brake cable.
Another biker inspected the chain.
Caleb stood silently.
He had expected one man with a wrench.
Instead four grown mechanics were treating his mother’s seventy-five-dollar bicycle like it mattered.
Across the street, Rachel finally looked up.
The bicycle was gone.
Her son was gone.
Her entire body changed.
She crossed the road so quickly that a pickup had to slow for her.
She reached the garage door breathless.
“Caleb!”
Every head turned.
Caleb froze.
Rachel stared first at him.
Then the blue bicycle hanging from the repair stand.
Then the money clenched in his hand.
Her face changed.
“What are you doing?”
Caleb swallowed.
“I was going to fix it.”
“With what?”
He slowly raised the bills.
Rachel stared.
“Caleb.”
“I have twenty-seven dollars.”
Her lips parted.
“That’s your birthday money.”
“You need the bike.”
Rachel’s eyes filled instantly.
“Sweetheart…”
“I saw the brakes.”
She took one step toward him.
“You should have told me.”
“You would’ve said it was fine.”
That stopped her.
Because he was right.
Marcus pretended to be extremely interested in a brake housing.
The other men suddenly found reasons to look away.
Rachel’s voice dropped.