the bike pieces are not evidence of a crime. They're records. Names, contacts, receipts, training certificates, and the original Open Bay charter Thomas wrote but never filed. I split the location information since Aaron worried old records containing private information shouldn't fall into the wrong hands. He was right.
Dean exhaled.
“So the great mystery is paperwork.”
Marcus glanced at him.
“Apparently.”
Eli frowned.
“Then why sabotage the bike?”
Marcus went on reading.
since Aaron knew you'd never throw away that motorcycle. He installed the fault deliberately following you refused to listen to him. He remarked, and I quote, 'If Marcus won't stop long sufficient to hear me, I'll make the bike stop until he does.' It was childish, infuriating, and completely Aaron. He intended to fix it following showing you the records. Then he never got the chance.
Dean burst out laughing.
Marcus didn't.
Not at first.
Then he imagined Aaron grinning as installing a ridiculous hidden electrical interruption simply to force his older brother to pay attention.
A laugh escaped Marcus prior to he could stop it.
It hurt.
He hadn't laughed about Aaron in years.
Eli observed him with care.
“Your brother sounds annoying.”
“He was spectacularly annoying.”
“Dad liked him?”
“Everybody liked Aaron.”
“Did you?”
Marcus turned toward the bike.
“More than I told him.”
Silence followed.
The kind that didn't demand a single thing.
Marcus read the final paragraphs.
Now the part that concerns Eli.
The young boy stiffened.
When Eli was born, I promised myself I wouldn't let him grow up believing usefulness was the price of belonging. I failed more often than I'd like to admit. He grew up around tools since he loved them, not since I wanted him earning his place. If he showed up offering to fix a thing in exchange for being allowed to stay, then I've failed him one last time.
Eli turned away.
Marcus stopped reading.
The young boy wiped his face quickly with his sleeve.
“I'm fine.”
Nobody remarked otherwise.
following a pause, Marcus went on.
Don't let him bargain for a home with his hands. Make him comprehend those are separate things. Let him fix engines since he loves engines. If he needs somewhere safe, help him since he's thirteen and needs somewhere safe. Those must never be the same transaction.
Marcus's voice grew rough.
And don't hide him from the authorities since you're afraid somebody will take him away. Do this properly. Call the people who need to be called. If his aunt cannot care for him, help find a legal arrangement. You always hated paperwork. Consider this my final revenge.
Dean laughed softly once more.
Eli didn't.
He fixed his eyes on the floor.
Marcus read the last lines.
I should have brought Eli to meet you years ago. I didn't since I was afraid my son might love people I'd spent too long resenting. That's my shame, not his inheritance.
If there is any friendship left between us, give him what we should have given each other: another chance prior to it becomes too late.
—Danny
Nobody spoke for nearly a minute.
Then Eli asked, “Is that it?”
Marcus checked.
There remained a note at the bottom.
A storage address.
A combination.
And four words.
The Open Bay records.
Marcus folded the written letter.
Eli backed away.
“So you knew my dad.”
“And he wanted me to come here.”
“Then I can stay?”
Marcus heard the hope.
He also comprehended Daniel's warning.
“Tonight, yes.”
Eli's face fell.
Marcus stepped toward him.
“But tomorrow we make calls.”
“Eli.”
“You heard what your dad wrote.”
“I don't care.”
“You do.”
“They'll put me somewhere.”
“Maybe temporarily.”
“And if they send me back?”
“We tell them what happened.”
“They don't listen.”
“Have you dealt with them before?”
“Then you don't know that.”
Eli's breathing quickened.
Marcus recognized panic prior to the youngster did.
“I'll leave.”
“I fixed the bike. I found the letter. That's all you wanted.”
“That isn't all I wanted.”
“You didn't want me at all before today.”
The words landed cleanly.
Marcus could have defended himself.
Instead he said, “That's true.”
Eli looked surprised.
“I didn't know you existed before today. And I don't know how this ends.”
“Then why should I trust you?”
Marcus thought about it.
“You shouldn't yet.”
Dean gazed at him.
Eli gazed.
Marcus pulled out the office chair and sat.
“Trust isn't something I get because I knew your father. I have to earn it.”
The young boy's shoulders loosened slightly.
“But I'm not going to lie to keep you comfortable. You need adults involved who can make sure you're safe. If I hide you here and pretend none of that matters, I'm proving your father wrong to trust me.”
“You could change your mind.”
Eli's face hardened once more.
Marcus added, “And you could decide you hate me.”
Dean covered a smile.
“But tomorrow,” Marcus said, “I'll still make the calls.”
That night they put clean sheets on the office couch.
Dean went home and returned with clothes his grandson had outgrown.
Another biker brought dinner.
Nobody made a ceremony of it.
Eli appeared grateful for that.
He ate two servings of stew and fell asleep prior to nine with Daniel's photograph beneath the edge of his pillow.
Marcus stayed in the workshop.
Around midnight he sat beside the blue motorcycle.
The machine now ran perfectly.
For some reason that made him miss Aaron more.
“You idiot,” Marcus whispered.
He wasn't sure whether he meant Aaron, Daniel, or himself.
Probably all three.
the following morning was difficult.
Marcus called county family services.
Eli listened from the office doorway.
Marcus gave the facts plainly.
A thirteen-year-old runaway.
Father deceased.
Guardian apparently unable or unwilling to continue placement.
No immediate signs of physical harm.
Safe temporary location.
Family connection through the deceased father.
The social worker who arrived was named Lena Ortiz.
She was in her forties, wore sensible shoes, and didn’t behave like the villain Eli had apparently constructed in his imagination.
She spoke to him privately.
Then Marcus.
Then Eli once more.
She called his aunt.
That conversation lasted longer.
When Lena returned to the workshop floor, her expression was tired.
“Aunt Rebecca isn't asking for him to be forcibly returned tonight.”
Eli sat rigidly.
“She doesn't want me.”
Lena corrected gently, “She says she doesn't believe she can provide what you need right now.”
“That's the polite version.”
“Probably.”
Marcus glanced at Lena, surprised by the answer.
She went on.
“We need to establish temporary placement while the court reviews guardianship.”
Eli's face went pale.
“Where?”
“There are options.”
“What options?”
“One may be remaining with an approved family connection if we can establish one and complete the required checks.”
Eli turned toward Marcus.
Marcus abruptly comprehended.
“Me?”
Lena nodded.
“Possibly.”