The Switch by Debra Kayn (desktop ebook reader TXT) 📗

view. Was her son moving? Was he knocked out? Had he broken his neck?

"Don't move him," she yelled, slamming into Trip's back, coming to a complete uncontrolled stop. "He's hurt."

"I'm okay," said Zach.

Fisting Trip's vest, she propelled herself around his big body and found Zach sitting up. Relief flowed through her, and she fell to her knees. Running her hands over Zach's upper body to assure herself he hadn't broken any bones, the gripping fear for her son quickly replaced with anger toward Trip.

She grabbed Zach's upper arms and shook her son. "What were you thinking?"

"Stop, mom. I'm fine." Zach lunged to his feet, brushing off the back of his jeans.

She continued to inspect him for any sign of blood or protruding bones. If she lost Zach...

"Get back on," said Trip.

Bonnie's spine turned to steel. She whirled to face Trip and stepped between him and her son.

"No, no, no." She shook her finger at Trip. "He is not getting back on that motorcycle."

"It's the only way he'll learn." Trip held on to the dirt bike. "He's not hurt. He's not going to get hurt."

She blew out her cheeks, holding everything she wanted to say inside of her. Trip infuriated her.

"Please, mom?" Zach moved toward the motorcycle. "I'm fine. I messed up the turn, and then I leaned too far to correct my mistake. I want to do this."

She stared at her son. If there was ever a time when she wanted him to obey her, it was now.

Trip opened his mouth. "He's—"

She whipped her gaze to Trip and snapped, "Don't."

Her fragile hold on her temper broke. She turned her back on Trip and nailed Zach with a glare that told him how severe his grounding would be if he even got a scratch.

If one of her kids asked her for the moon, she'd find some way to fly up in the sky and get it.

She'd packed up the car and took her kids out of Boise to get outdoors and let them enjoy the last few years of their childhood. But to allow him to hurt himself?

"Zach." She went to her son.

His stubborn chin set firmly, silently pleading his case to her. She sighed, knowing how much he would love to ride a dirt bike or anything with wheels.

Her chest squeezed. God, she remembered what it was like to be a teenager. Her summers at Grandpa Gene's house were a freeing time for her. She could run wild and free, learning how to build campfires, worm her own fishing hook, and climb every rocky mountainside within walking distance of the house with Grandpa Gene.

All those things made her stronger. Maybe they made her a survivor as she lived through her husband's death, her mother dying, and the hardships of being a single mother.

And, it all helped her thanks to Grandpa Gene's support and belief that anything was possible.

"Please, Mom," whispered Zach.

The fight went out of her. She looked her son over from head to toes again. He wasn't hurt. Lots of kids rode dirt bikes. All she was doing was embarrassing him in front of the others, and that's the last thing she'd want to do to him.

"Okay, honey," she whispered back. "Just...be careful."

Zach kissed the top of her head. She swallowed hard, wondering when he'd grown up to be six inches taller than her.

Backing away, she stayed close enough to overhear Trip talk to Zach. Her face flamed with emotions, and she patted her cheeks, hoping her skin wasn't clashing with her hair.

Trip efficiently used his booted foot to kickstart the motorcycle. A chill went over Bonnie. She hugged her middle, looking behind her for Kenny, and found him standing with the girl from earlier.

Both of her boys were okay. As soon as Zach finished riding around, they'd go home, and she could forget about today and how on edge she'd become at the get-together.

Zach slowly rode away. She stared after him, looking for anything he was doing wrong but considering she'd never ridden a motorcycle, she had no idea if he was doing the right thing or not.

This was something a father would do with their son.

As the thought came to her, she darted a glance at Trip and found him walking in a loose circle, keeping his eyes on Zach. Every so often, he'd point or pat his hand in the air—ultimately getting Zach to slow down as if all males knew sign language only they understood.

After several successful circles around the perimeter of the field, Zach rode confidently at an even speed. She started to relax.

Trip walked over to her. "He's doing good."

She pursed her lips. Her irritation toward Trip never wavered. Zach was her son.

As a single mother trying her best to raise her kids, she refused to listen to his opinion. If it weren't for Trip caving to Zach's love of fast things, her son wouldn't have crashed.

"Bonnie?" Trip stepped closer. "I can teach him how to ride so he has better control."

"I didn't ask you to teach him," she murmured.

"I'm offering."

She moved away from him, keeping her gaze on Zach. Trip followed, blocking the setting sun from hitting her, and cast her in his shadow.

"Just leave us alone." She walked toward Kenny.

As soon as Zach gave the motorcycle back to whoever it belonged to, she'd take the boys home. They had a big day tomorrow, and the last week had finally caught up to her.

They needed beds and food in the house. After that, she'd inquire with someone in town about who the local internet provider was and see about getting their phones back online. It would save her money in the long run.

Both boys spent a lot of their time outside the house, searching for a signal, trying to connect to their old friends in Boise.

"Hey." Trip grabbed her arm, stopping her. "Why are you pissed at me?"

She jerked her arm out of his grasp. "I didn't ask for your help raising my kids. I didn't want to come here tonight. All