Page 19 of Total Shutdown

I glance down at my leathers. “Who else would it belong to?”

His eyes widen a touch. “That’s so cool. How many followers do you have?”

“Ummm … maybe ten thousand?”

His jaw pops open. “That’s so many. Dad has, like, a million, but he never posts on there. When he does, it’s all boring gameplay and sponsor crap.”

I fight back a snort. The potential for banter with Ezra at his dad’s expense is real, but I resist the urge to keep down this route and change course.

“So, you were at soccer practice with Kendra?” I ask.

He scrunches his face up, pushing away his milkshake. “Dad thinks I need to find a sport to play. He keeps going on about ‘too much screen time.’ Blah, blah. Thing is, I don’t like sports—never have, never will. I’m not that big on going to hockey games either.”

This lunch date has somehow gone from wanting to ream my friend out for turning up with a kid I never thought I would meet to immediately enjoying his company.

Ezra’s grilled cheese is set down in front of him right as Kendra joins us.

“Okay, so your dad will be here in a few minutes. He just finished practice.”

I choke on my coffee. “Like, coming here?”

I didn’t share my and Sawyer’s exchange at the bus stop with Kendra or my feelings about the way he answered the media in Colorado. She wouldn’t get it. She’d just see a guy trying to protect my privacy, along with his own, and doing what we’d agreed. But finding reasons to be pissed at someone is an easy way to keep your distance.

“Jesus.” Kendra stares down at Ezra’s plate, pulling her coffee mug toward her. “You eat faster than Jack.”

His head darts to me, eyes wide. “Can I see your bike before I go?”

A tiny smile traces Kendra’s lips.

“You can look. But I can’t take you out on it or anything,” I say, unsure if I should allow even that.

“Awesome.” Ezra’s already off the stool and heading for the door.

I take a second to look at Kendra. “Did you deliberately set this up?”

She shakes her head, taking a large sip of coffee. “Seriously, Sawyer was supposed to get him straight from practice, but it got delayed, so I offered to bring him here for something to eat.”

I slide off my stool and raise a brow. “Are you staying here or coming out with us?”

She peers down at her almost-empty—and probably cold—coffee. “I need to stay and finish this.”

“Huh, yeah, okay,” I reply, taking off out of the café and after Ezra.

“This bike looks kind of old,” Ezra says as we stand next to each other on the sidewalk, his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie. “But old in a cool way.”

“It was built in the ’80s.”

His jaw drops open. “Wow, that was a really long time ago.”

I nod and suppress a laugh. “Similar time to when your dad was born.”

“Really?” he asks, doubt across his face.

“No lie.” I nod, knowing technically Sawyer was born in the nineties, but he’s old all the same. “She has all her original parts, bar a few pieces that were broken when I got her.”

Ezra just stands, staring at the bike.

I know I shouldn’t, but the passion I see in his eyes overrides all common sense, and I’m speaking before I can stop myself. “Do you want to sit on her?”