The night refused to end.
I kept telling myself that Jace was coming back, and I repeated it often enough that the words almost started sounding like certainty.
He was coming back. He had survived worse situations. He knew how to handle himself.
He would walk through those doors before sunrise and complain that everyone had worried unnecessarily.
I wanted to believe every word.
Unfortunately, my phone remained silent.
I checked it again but nothing and I lowered it and returned to the motorcycle sitting on the lift.
Ben looked over from the other side of the workshop.
“You have checked your phone six times in the last ten minutes.” He said.
“I know.” I said.
“You should probably sit down.” He said.
“I'm working.” I said.
“You have been staring at that motorcycle for five minut
