Sully listened without interrupting. Then he asked Leo to say the limits again, and Leo repeated them, irritated but careful. "You can move it to a place with reception and wait for a proper recovery vehicle," he finished. "If anything starts leaking or sounding wrong, you stop. A real shop has to replace what's damaged before you ride any distance." Sully looked at the teenager for several seconds and said, "That's the first repair estimate I've heard in years that didn't try to sell me a miracle."
Leo smiled despite himself. "My dad said miracles were what people called repairs when they didn't see the hours that went into them." Sully asked his father's name, and Leo told him. Patrick Gallagher, Reno, custom motorcycles and whatever paid the rent. Sully repeated the name thoughtfully, searching his memory. He said he had passed through Reno many times but did not pretend he had known Patrick just to comfort the boy.
"He teach you all this?" Sully asked. Leo looked down at the blue-handled screwdriver on the bench. "What he could before he died. After that, I kept reading manuals."
Sully ran a thumb across his beard. "And somebody let you end up here with nothing to eat?" The question was so direct that Leo went still. He was not ready to explain Hank Dawson to a stranger who carried a knife and belonged to a motorcycle club with a terrifying reputation.
"I came here myself," Leo said. Sully nodded slowly. "I heard that part." Leo expected the next sentence to be an accusation, a lecture about running away, or an offer to take him directly back to the people he had fled.
Instead, Sully looked toward the door and said, "Sometimes a person leaves because staying stopped being safe." Leo raised his head. Sully didn't ask how old he was or demand the name of the house. Not yet.
An hour later, the garage was quiet enough to attempt a careful check. Sully positioned himself near the doorway while Leo watched the previously damaged sections from a safe distance. The engine caught with its deep, familiar thunder, then settled into a rough but steady idle. Leo listened for any sign that the temporary repair was failing. After a brief check he signaled for Sully to shut it off, and the huge man obeyed instantly.
"Well?" Sully asked. Leo took his time inspecting the floor and the housing. "It held for the check," he said. "That doesn't make it ready for a hundred-mile ride."
Sully stared at the machine with a look somewhere between disbelief and gratitude. "You got a phone?" Leo shook his head, embarrassed by the useless device in his pocket. Sully brought out his own phone, walked past the old pumps until a weak signal appeared, and made a short call.
Leo heard only pieces. A name, an intersection, a request for a trailer, and a warning not to use the main stretch of highway because someone might still be looking for him. When Sully returned, he seemed less anxious about the road. "A friend is meeting me west of here," he said.