Page 79 of Total Shutdown

CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT

COLLINS

In the end, Kendra stayed and watched the first two Alien movies and used up her “entire weeks’ worth of snack allowance”—her words, not mine—in nailing all of my popcorn stash, which was sizable. I told her now that she was engaged, she’d entered the “comfortable” phase in her and Jack’s relationship, which earned me a death stare.

Since I’m working all hours God sends and I now have depleted cupboards, I’m pulling on my boots, getting ready to go to the store, when my intercom buzzes for a second time.

“There’s no more popcorn left, Babe. Go home and eat your own stash,” I say into the speaker, convinced it can only be one person.

“Collins? It’s Ezra.”

I pause on grabbing my bag and jacket from the stand by the door and immediately buzz to let him up.

I swing my front door open and head down the first flight of stairs. I’m partway down when he comes into view. Dressed in his red uniform for the private school Sawyer once told me he attends, he has a heavy duffel bag hanging off his shoulder.

“Hey,” I say, stopping just a few steps above him.

His green eyes crease with a smile. “Do you live in the penthouse?” he asks.

I drop down a couple more steps until we’re at the same height. “This isn’t the type of building to have a penthouse,” I reply, a touch of confusion in my voice, wondering why he’s here.

Ezra looks around the stairwell, casting his eyes across the exposed brick that’s also featured in my apartment.

He adjusts the heavy bag—which is no doubt piled with books—and I reach out and lift it off him.

He rolls his shoulder back in relief. “I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Okay … but let me ask you one first, if that’s all right.”

“Shoot.”

Just as he reaches out to take his bag back, I loop it over my shoulder, the weight almost toppling me backward. He definitely has his dad’s strength.

“I’ve worked out how you found where I lived since I had shown you that time you came over to my garage. What’s got me puzzled though is, how did you get here?”

Eyebrows pulled together, he chews nervously on his bottom lip, scuffing the floor lightly with his shoe. “I got a ride.”

I rear back a little, studying him carefully. He’s trying to hide something, and he isn’t a great liar. Another characteristic we share.

Neither of us speaks, and I’m determined not to be the first one to break the silence. Despite having zero experience with kids, I have very vivid memories of my own childhood. When I was Ezra’s age, I was stubborn. Everything my parents and grandparents did was for my own good, yet I was convinced they were actively working against me. I don’t necessarily see the same level of defiance in Ezra, though I can tell he’s holding out on me.

His face turns sheepish. “Promise you won’t tell Dad?”

“Ezra”—I shift the heavy duffel bag up my shoulder—“I can’t withhold things from Sawyer—you know that. Although I am worried about what you’re not telling me.”

He looks off to the side and then down at the floor again.

I duck down a little, attempting to capture his attention. “Ezra?”

“One of the eleventh graders from the high school has a motorcycle, and he offered me a ride on it the other week, but Dad was picking me up. Then, today, after school, he offered again.”

His eyes flare when he looks at me and no doubt registers the horror on my face. “But he has his license and everything, and he didn’t go fast,” he rushes out. “Alyssa and Dom said I could ride the bus home today, and when Carter offered, I figured it was okay?” He ends his little speech on a question, clearly seeking my approval.

I can’t give it to him.

It’s difficult to pinpoint a single emotion as so many of them trickle down my spine when I think about Ezra getting on the back of a teenager’s bike and riding across Brooklyn. Fear, dread, anger toward Carter—who should have known better. Crushing panic takes hold, weighing so heavily that the bag on my shoulder suddenly feels lighter than air.

I introduced him to bikes; I took him out on one. Did I not do my job correctly and make it clear that while riding was fun, it was also incredibly dangerous, especially when the person you were with wasn’t experienced or careful?

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