Project: Cayro

Chapter 1: Unexpected Pain

Cayro Bracton:

August 16, 2025

12:00 EST

The Bracton House

Hampton, VA.

I sat on my Snap-On stool, staring at a Kawasaki Teryx side-by-side that was causing me a world of trouble. The client had bought it last year, and for some reason, it had decided to eat its transmission alive. One of my techs had spent five days rebuilding that damn transmission. When the machine left our shop, it was in perfect working order. But yesterday, the client brought it back—with the exact same issue.

Now, I was elbow-deep in transmission fluid and all the other grimy mess that came with being a certified Kawasaki technician. It wasn't glamorous work, but it was in my blood. My grandfather had opened this dealership and repair shop when he retired from the U.S. Air Force about twelve years ago. Growing up, I spent my childhood working alongside him and the team. Two years ago, when I was sixteen, I passed my certification tests to become a certified Kawasaki technician. The day I got that certification was the day my grandfather made me the shop foreman and lead tech. It felt like a rite of passage, and I took it seriously.

I lifted my hand to my head, using a knuckle to scratch the side of my forehead while I tried to figure out what was causing the transmission to tear itself apart. Kawasaki was known for building durable, long-lasting components. So what was the issue here? Leaning back on my stool, I stretched my aching back, and that's when I noticed it—the aftermarket exhaust bolted to the machine.

Tilting my head to the side, I narrowed my eyes and followed the exhaust back to the engine block. Low and behold, I figured out the problem. The client had made some modifications to his precious machine, and they'd backfired—literally.

Closing my eyes in pure frustration, I grabbed a few paper towels from the roll sitting on my toolbox. Wiping my hands clean, I heard one of my techs call out for me.

"Hey, boss, there's a girl here to see you," one of my techs shouted from the entrance of the shop that connected to the dealership.

"Tell her I'm unavailable," I shouted back, already dreading the interruption. My high school graduating classmates had been relentless ever since summer started.

"I did... She insists that it's important," he replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

I growled under my breath, wiping the last bit of grease off my hands as I stood up. With a sigh, I made my way toward the dealership. As soon as I stepped through the doors, I spotted her—Kendra, waiting patiently. Her long blond hair fell down her back, and her big blue eyes met mine as soon as I walked in. I sighed again, but this time in defeat. Of all the people who could have shown up, it had to be her. Kendra, the squad leader of the cheer squad, was the last person I wanted to deal with right now.

For reasons beyond my understanding, she had set her sights on me. A guy who hated football and was so far removed from her social circle that it felt like we lived in different worlds. And don't get me wrong—Kendra was drop-dead gorgeous in every sense of the word. But what I couldn't wrap my head around was why she wanted anything to do with me. I was the reclusive honor student who spent most of high school hiding from people like her.

I led her to a quiet corner of the dealership, away from prying eyes, trying to figure out why she had come all the way here. "Kendra, what are you doing here? I'm in the middle of a massive repair," I said, leaning against the wall and crossing my arms.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were busy with a repair," she replied, her voice soft as she looked down, clearly embarrassed.

I arched an eyebrow. "Kendra, I'm a certified technician and the shop foreman here. I'm always busy."