Warmth illuminates her face, right before she purses her lips. “Ezra’s here too.”
My eyes dart to hers, and Kendra smiles knowingly, probably thinking back to the way we interacted at Rise Up.
“He is? I figured he’d be with a sitter or something.”
Shaking her head, she takes my hand, leading me toward their dining room. Since the kitchen and living area are empty but I can hear voices, I assume everyone is gathered in there.
She stops just outside the closed door. “For what it’s worth—and I know I wasn’t there—I don’t think that night was a mistake. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” She bites her bottom lip and smirks. “Or more the way Sawyer looks at you. Don’t shut something down that might be good before it’s even had a chance to grow.”
I lift a brow. “How much have you had to drink?”
“Not a drop.” She chuckles softly and opens the door. “Guess who decided to show.”
“Collins! Oh my God!”
Darcy flies from her chair at the head of the table and makes a beeline for me, wrapping her arms around me and giggling.
Jack’s sister is pure sunshine—the complete opposite of me in every way. With her long honey-colored hair, taste in bright clothes, sparkling blue eyes, and extrovert nature, she makes my black jeans and lace cami top appear even darker. She reminds me so much of her mom, Felicity—who I’ve met at games a few times since her husband, Jon, is the Blades coach. Darcy is genuinely one of the kindest souls on earth, and I’ve managed to decipher all of that just from the handful of occasions I’ve met her.
I guess you could say she’s an open book.
“I didn’t think you were coming. Jack said you were going to some kind of motorcycle event in Vegas.”
Up until I met Darcy, I always considered Jack to have a strong British accent, but it’s clear it’s lost some strength after years of him living stateside. Darcy’s accent is like stepping onto the set ofBridgerton.
She releases me from a vise grip, and I scan the room, my eyes landing on Sawyer and Ezra sitting on the opposite side of the table. The last available seat is next to the twelve-year-old boy with eyes like saucers.
My body flushes warm, and I refocus on Darcy. “Couldn’t miss your announcement.”
“Well, good thing I haven’t said anything yet,” Darcy replies.
“Can’t imagine you got a refund on your tickets or travel costs this late notice.”
I follow the voice, my gaze landing back on Sawyer. With his fingers laced under his chin, he pins me with a challenging look. If I allowed my brain to go there, I might think he doesn’t mind me showing up; perhaps he’s even happy about it. Which surprises me since the last time we spoke, I was a brat.
Jack stands from his place next to Archer. “Okay, if you take a seat next to Ezra, I’ll fetch the food.”
* * *
“How many bikes have you fixed?”Ezra fires his tenth question in as many minutes. He takes a huge mouthful of food, washing it down with a Diet Coke.
“When you say fixed, do you mean as in refurbished or actually got it working again?”
He shrugs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out his cell. “On Insta, you mainly talk about mechanical faults.”
“Not while we’re eating.” Sawyer points at Ezra’s cell, and he quickly repockets it.
I take a bite of the shepherd’s pie Jack made—which is surprisingly really fucking nice—and smile around the fork.
“You found my Instagram page then. I guess it wasn’t that hard since my handle is my first name.”
Ezra nods, but I don’t miss the way his dad flushes before he picks up his water glass and takes two big pulls.
“If we’re talking bikes mended, then I’ve lost count. I do it every day for a living. Plus, my followers generally find more value in problem-solving their mechanical issues. Although I prefer to create content on restoring older bikes back to their former glory.”
“Can I come see your bike downstairs?” Ezra asks.
I shake my head once, eyes briefly lifting to Sawyer. “I’m sorry. I took the bus here tonight.”