CHAPTER 1
THE SEEKER
I squint through the haze of the trees. The field between the two of us is wide, and ever more vast emotionally than physically—I feel that bit internally, a vacant space residing deep in my lungs. A stump sticks from the middle of the lawn like a sore thumb, the top gleaming as if oiled.
I cannot believe she came here.
The little farmhouse is more like a glorified cottage, a single story done up in beige bricks. There’s a barn out back for their bikes, but I can’t fathom storing my motorcycle in such a building. My old girl deserves four walls of brick and a real roof, not hay beneath her tires, the air smelling of old horseshit. That is a stink that does not go away no matter how long you air her out on the open road.
It is second only to the stink of betrayal.
