KNOX
Saturday started with Hunter showing up at my door at seven-forty-five wearing a tiny leather jacket over his dinosaur pajamas.
He had his helmet under his arm.
"Luna says she's not ready yet," he announced. "But I am ready. I have been ready."
I crouched down. "You're not wearing pants."
He looked down. Considered this. "I'll go put pants on," he said, with the gravity of a man making a tactical adjustment.
He came back with pants and Mara, who had apparently arrived for morning coffee and was wearing an expression that suggested she had been briefed on the ride and had opinions.
"I've already given Knox the safety lecture," she told no one in particular, "but I want it on record that I'm choosing to trust the process."
"Noted," I said.
"Don't make me regret it."
Riley came
