Page 80 of Total Shutdown

I crane my neck to look behind him, feigning to search for something. “Where are your leathers and helmet? Or did you hand those back to Carter when he dropped you off?”

Ezra flushes—hard.

Again, we fall into silence, and this time, I don’t need him to speak. I already know the answer to my question.

“If you want a ride back from school one day, I can come get you, okay? Just …” I trail off, not wanting to ream the kid out and embarrass or shame him. “Getting on bikes without the proper protection is really unwise.”

He nods and reverts back to chewing on his lip. “Dad’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

I smirk. “I’ll be careful with how I deliver it, and I’ll make sure to tell him you know the score now.”

Right at that moment, I hear Ezra’s bag vibrate.

“Damn, I bet that’s Grandma or Grandpa asking where I am.”

Pulling the duffel off my shoulder, I unzip the front pocket and check the screen, handing the vibrating cell out to him. “It’s Alyssa.”

He shakes his head profusely, motioning to me. “Can you speak to her? Say I’m with you. I’m less likely to get into shit that way.”

I quirk a brow at his language and hit Accept.

“Hey, it’s Collins. Ezra’s with me.”

“Collins?” Alyssa says, understandably sounding surprised.

“Yeah, Ezra just turned up at my place.”

“Why? Wait, how did he get there?” she asks, sounding more and more frantic.

Ezra’s eyes bug out, a pleading look not to tell her anything. He obviously heard what she said.

Right or wrong, I offer Ezra a reprieve. “He got a different bus after school and stopped by my place to say hi.”

Pulling back my jacket sleeve, I check the time. “I have to do some grocery shopping, but I can take Ezra with me and …” I look up at the twelve-year-old boy, who’s anxiously shifting from one foot to the other. “And we can go for pizza and drop him back at your house later this afternoon. If that works?”

The grin that breaks out over his face could brighten even the cloudiest December day.

“Are you sure?” Alyssa asks.

“Yeah, more than happy to do that, and I promise, this time, it won’t involve jelly beans.”

She snorts a laugh, the sound reassuring, maybe even accepting, and for the second time today, I like the way it feels.

“Okay, well, tell him to be good, and we’ll see you a little later when you bring him home.”

* * *

“There’sno way you’re going to—oh no. My bad,” I say, watching Ezra sink the largest slice of thin crust I’ve ever seen.

“Thishh is weally, weally gwood.” He points to his insanely full mouth before finally swallowing. “Pepperoni is king.”

“No kidding,” I reply, hands clasped under my chin, a wry smile plastered to my face.

I never met Sophie, although I know what she looks like from pictures posted on the internet. I see a lot of Ezra in her—his smile, for one, and the way his eyes crinkle at the corners. However, Ezra’s mannerisms remind me so much of Sawyer. From the cocky way his lips tip up when he goads you to his tendency to flush at the tiniest thing.

I’m not a huge fan of hockey, but it’s common knowledge that Sawyer Bryce carries a reputation as the grumpy Blades captain. At first, I thought that was his whole self, that the persona the media portrayed was an accurate representation of the man off the ice.

I couldn’t have been more wrong, and when Ezra smiles, the similarity I see between Sawyer and his son proves that point entirely.

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