Still, when the garage door came into view, Nora’s hands tightened around the straps of her backpack.
Lucas noticed.
He did not mention it.
Fear did not erase courage.
Sometimes fear was proof that courage had actually cost something.
The men behaved normally when she entered.
That was deliberate.
No applause.
No cheering.
No one calling her a hero.
Jojo complained about a stripped bolt.
Walsh swore at a battery charger.
Classic rock played at low volume.
For ten minutes, Nora sat in the booth doing algebra.
Then Miller walked over.
“Got a second?”
She looked suspicious.
“For what?”
“Come outside.”
Rose followed.
Behind the garage, the club had gathered near the picnic tables.
No leather cuts.
No motorcycles arranged theatrically.
Just men in work shirts and jeans.
Miller held something in one hand.
A military-style dog tag on a simple chain.
Old metal.
Scratched.