Boon was in the middle of a timing belt when the bike pulled into the lot. He came out of the bay wiping his hands. Sully was 63, still tall, though the years had pulled him down slightly the way they did, the shoulders not quite as squared as they’d been, the movements more considered and deliberate. His hair had gone completely white, worn long enough to tie back under the half helmet he hung on the mirror when he climbed off. Long weathered face, pale gray eyes, a scar along the jaw that Boon had seen so many times over 37 years, it had become simply part of what Sully’s face looked like.

The same way the grease under Boon’s nails was simply part of what his hands looked like. They stood 6 feet apart in the parking lot. 37 years of knowing each other. 22 years of near silence between them. You look old, Sully said.

You look older, Boon said. Sully looked past him at the garage at the sign at the Harley parked to one side. Nice setup, he said. Working on it. The particular pause of two men who have things to say and are taking a moment to decide the order.

Come inside, Boon said. Coffeey’s on. They sat in the small back office. Boon poured two cups from the machine he kept there. Nothing special, just functional.

They sat across from each other at the work desk. The way men sit when they’ve been through enough together that formality would be insulting. Sully looked at his coffee, then at Boon. You want to do the other thing first or after? Sully said.

Boon knew what he meant. The other thing was 22 years of something neither of them had said out loud to the other in all that time. Tell me about Pierce first, Boon said. Sully nodded. He pulled out his phone.

An old model kept because it worked and there was no reason to replace a thing that worked. He turned the screen to show Boon a photograph. 2016. Sully said, “Ray Dutton’s funeral. ” Boon looked at it. A gathering outside a small church, 50 or 60 people.

And in the background, clearly not present in any official capacity. A man in a dark suit standing with the posture of someone who had come to confirm something rather than to mourn. Pierce, Boon said. Pierce. Sully set the phone down.