Pieces of Us (Missing Pieces #3) - N.R. Walker Page 0,46

corner. “I’ll bring it over.”

Mine was behind Juss’ bike but he was already off his scooter and walking to get it. I went to help him, but Sparra took my arm. “He’s got it,” he whispered.

I knew I had to let Justin do things on his own, but what if it fell on him?

Juss kicked the stand up and wheeled his bike over, trying not to grin too wide. “Be careful with her,” he said to Connor. “I’m gonna ride her again one day, aren’t I, Dall?”

Everyone turned to me. He was going to ride again one day. But not just yet. “Yep. One day. Might be a while before we tackle any motocross tracks though.”

Connor showed us how to get the bike onto the hoist, secure it, demonstrating all its features. He noticed Juss get back on his scooter and fix his right leg onto the footrest, but Connor never missed a beat. It was obvious Juss had a leg injury, so he showed us how to use the hoist sitting on the smaller stools on wheels, standing up, or for Juss’ height on his scooter.

Then, of course, when I was talking deals and dollars with Connor, Juss and Sparra raced each other from one end of the shop to the other. Sparra was on the wheelie-stool and Juss was on his scooter and, of course, Juss won, so there was a bit of yelling and laughing, and both Connor and I stopped to watch them.

To see Juss laughing and so full of life, after being near-catatonic a week ago, made me happier than words could say.

Then it was Davo’s turn to race Juss, but his scooter was faster than a little stool. Not to mention that Juss had it down to an art.

“Seem like a fun bunch,” Connor said.

“Anything with wheels, I swear,” I replied.

“The guy with the mobility scooter,” he began. “Leg injury?”

Amongst other things. “Yep.”

“Motorbike?”

“Nah. The van he was driving got hit by a truck.”

“Holy hell,” he whispered. Then the penny dropped. “Oh shit, was that a few months back? I remember that. It was on the news. They weren’t expecting him to survive. And that’s him?”

“Yep.”

“Wow, he was lucky.” Then he cringed. “Not that getting hit by a truck is lucky . . .”

“We were all lucky that day,” I answered. “Lucky he survived, that is.”

We watched on as Juss laughed at something Davo said, and my heart flooded with warmth. We came so close to losing him.

I signed off on two new hoists, feeling pretty good about upgrading shop equipment for the guys. When we came out of my office, they had Juss’ bike off the hoist and Justin was sitting on it.

“Looks like he misses not being able to ride,” Connor said to me, and after a bit of small talk and promises to be in touch real soon, Davo and Sparra helped him load the demo hoists back into his truck, and he left.

Juss was grinning as he sat on his bike, and it was hard not to smile back at him. “I’m telling ya,” he said. “One day.”

I nodded. “One day.” Then what Connor had said and seeing Juss smile like that gave me an idea. “Can you put your foot on the footpeg okay?”

He lifted his right leg and bent it so he could put his foot up. “Yeah. But if I had to stop in a hurry and put my leg down . . .”

“Hold on,” I said. I ducked into my office and came back out holding up the key.

“Dallas, I . . .” He shook his head.

“You’re not going to. I am. You just gotta hold onto me.”

“You’re gonna double me?”

“Just out through the shop, around the backyard, and back in. We’re not going out on the street.”

There was a moment of hesitation before his grin widened. “Hell. Yes.”

I grabbed our helmets and put mine on, then handed Juss his. “If it’s uncomfortable . . .”

He gently fitted the helmet over his scar, and when he had it on, he grinned so hard, his cheeks barely fit in the helmet. I swung my leg over the tank and handlebars, stood astride, kicked up the stand, and took control of the weight of the bike.

Juss put his hands on my hips, then around my waist. “I like this,” he said.

I put the key in the ignition and turned her over. The bike spluttered a bit and kicked to life, and Davo and Sparra raced into the shop. Davo