Page 20 of Total Shutdown

His attention whips to me. His pure excitement makes me feel only good things. “For real?!”

It isn’t so busy today, and I guess thirty seconds wouldn’t hurt.

I pinch my thumb and forefinger at him. “I’m talking seconds. That’s it.”

Standing at the front of my bike, I hold the handlebars to keep it steady as Ezra climbs on. Unlike a Low Rider—which I would struggle to ride, given my petite frame—this model sits slightly higher, and since Ezra is tall, like his dad, he doesn’t struggle to get into a comfortable position.

He wraps his hands around the rubber grips, checking out the analog speedometer. “Does it go really fast?”

“Top speed is a hundred and ten miles per hour.”

He drops his shoulders. “That’s kind of slow. Dad’s Lamborghini goes way faster.”

I’m aware from when I last rode in it.

“It’s more built for comfort and cruising, not to race.”

He nods his head, turning over his shoulder at the empty seat behind him. “Is this for another per?—”

“Ezra, what are you doing?” interrupts an unimpressed male voice, and we both turn toward it.

CHAPTEREIGHT

SAWYER

“What does it look like, Dad?”

I don’t know who to look at first: my son, straddling a retro Harley on the side of the road, or the woman I can’t get out of my mind—and likely never will now that I’ve seen her in full leathers.

Jesus.

As I draw nearer, Collins adopts a confident stance, hands propped on her hips. “It’s all good,Dad. Ezra here wanted to have a look at my bike. He’s really into it.” She throws me a look that’s impossible to misinterpret—let the boy do his thing.

Ezra drops his attention from me back to the bike as he studies it carefully, and I take the opportunity to edge a little closer. Her eyeliner is bolder than usual, and her hair blows in the chilling wind.

“You know he’s twelve, right? Way too young for motorcycles.”

She lifts a shoulder. “Obviously, I wasn’t going to let him ride it, and I was a similar age when I discovered bikes.”

I study her for a beat, feeling like she just told me something she hasn’t shared before. I want to know more about her past but pause on an inquisition since I know it won’t get me anywhere with her. “Did I just learn something about you?”

She scoffs lightly and flips her hand at Ezra, asking him to climb off. He does and steps onto the sidewalk, pulling out his cell to take pictures.

“In fact,” I muse, “I knew you were into bikes. I just didn’t know you had one of your own.”

“Two,” she replies quickly. “Technically, I have two bikes. The other one is in the garage where I work. In my spare time, I restore it. I’ll probably sell her when I’m done.” She reaches out and runs a hand over the pristine black leather seat. “Would be hard to part with this old girl though.”

So much of me wants to ask what’s so special about this bike that makes it indispensable to Collins. From reading between the lines and based on what she’s told me, I know she doesn’t see much as permanent—not where she lives or where she works, and maybe not even the company she keeps.

For the first time, as I watch her inspect the Harley-Davidson that looks like it was manufactured in the ’80s, I see something that resembles emotion. Like this is a part of her she can’t let go.

“Does she have a name?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest. I probably shouldn’t push, but I can’t help it.

She tips her head to look at me, her expression reverting back to the familiar hard one I’m used to. “No.”

I don’t believe her.

“You could never part with something you haven’t even named?” I challenge.

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