Keira
Jaxon's idea of a low-key charity outing turned out to be a go-kart track on the edge of town, complete with a banner reading NORTHRIDGE WOLVES COMMUNITY DAY strung crookedly over the entrance, half a dozen kids from the youth hockey program already lined up for autographs by the time we arrived.
"This is not low-key," I said, watching him high-five a kid who could not have been older than eight.
"It's for charity. Charity's never low-key." He tossed me a helmet, grinning in that easy, unbothered way that made it impossible to tell when he was performing and when he wasn't. "Also, I'm going to beat you so badly you'll need therapy."
"We'll see about that."
I did not need therapy, but I also did not beat him, not in the first three races anyway, Jaxon weaving through the track wi
