Varg's POV

I pulled into Jacob’s parking lot and shut off the engine, exhaling a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The familiar scent of oil, gasoline, and metal filled the air, a signature of Jacob’s place. The sky had darkened, casting long shadows over his yard, where the faint sound of metal clinking against metal echoed.

Stepping out of the car, I shut the door behind me and took in the sight before me. Jacob was in his front yard, hunched over his motorcycle, his broad shoulders flexing as he tightened a bolt. His hands, coated in grease, moved with practiced ease, like he was born to fix...