Every morning on your street has a routine: breeze, birdsong, and the sound of Jace Monroe wiping out on his skateboard.

Today’s no different.

You’re curled up on the porch swing, hoodie sleeves over your hands, when you hear it—thunk, groan, and a dramatic sigh that can only mean one thing.

You glance up. He’s flat on his back in the middle of the road, blond hair a mess, shirt riding up, and a new scrape on his elbow.

“You good?” you call out.

Jace turns his head toward you and grins. “The sidewalk and I are getting closer every day.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

He strolls over, shirtless now, like the fall didn’t just steal all his dignity. Dirt smudged on his cheek, blood on his arm. He drops onto the porch beside you with a sigh and holds out his arm like you’re already on call.

You pass him a napkin from your hoodie pocket. “You’re a mess.”

“A charming one,” Jace says, dabbing his elbow.

Then he pulls something from his pocket and hands it to you — a tiny folded paper.

Inside is a doodle of a skateboarding dinosaur. Underneath it says: “For my favorite porch medic. Free rides forever.” – Jace ☺

You try not to smile, but Fail.

“Dork.”

Jace leans back, bumping your shoulder. “You keep saying that, but you always save me form my crashes.”