Page 37 of Blackbeard
Mario gestured at Bodhi and stepped back, allowing me to take a look at his younger brother’s hand.
“We were skateboarding on our way to school when Bodhi fell. Sliced his palm open on a piece of glass.”
“Jesus,” I mumbled under my breath, examining the cut on Bodhi’s palm. It was deep, nearly to the bone. “Do you have something against taking the bus?”
Mario glanced away. Bodhi fidgeted in place and shrugged, avoiding my gaze. Clearly something was going on and they didn’t want to tell me about it.
“You boys better not be lying to me,” I said. “Mario, get my medical kit. It’s in my saddlebags, on my bike.”
“Yes, sir.”
He darted off, disappearing through the doorway.
I fixed my attention on Bodhi and angled my head to the side until I managed to meet his eye.
“Come on, spit it out.”
He sighed and hedged for several seconds.
“Some of the kids on the bus make fun of me because I’m chubby,” he said. “One group of boys held me down and wrote…mean things…all over my body in permanent marker. It took forever to scrub it off. My skin felt raw for days.”
“How long has this been going on?” I prompted, concerned.
Bodhi ducked his head and shrugged.
“Ever since I started high school. Mario tries to stop them, but…sometimes, that just makes it worse.”
I clenched my teeth and blew out a breath. Smoothing my hand down Bodhi’s hair, I kissed the top of his head. I knew what it was like to be the chubby kid on the playground, picked on and bullied. Even though I lost the weight in my early twenties, the scars of those memories still burned sometimes. I hated seeing my nephew go through the same thing.
Mario returned a moment later, handing my medical kit to me. I kept the small duffle bag packed, prepped, fully stocked and ready to go for emergencies at all times. I got plenty of use out of it between my family and the club.
Digging into my kit, I pulled out everything I needed—needle and thread, gauze, disinfectant, and painkillers. My phone buzzed in my back pocket while I cleaned Bodhi’s hand. He winced, biting his lip to keep quiet.
“Hang in there, buddy,” I said. “I’ll make this as quick as possible, I promise.”
Retrieving my phone, I glanced at the screen.
Big G.
I answered it, tucking the phone against my shoulder to hold it in place while I worked.
“Hey, what’s up?”
“How are you enjoying married life so far?” Big G replied with amusement in his tone.
I snorted.
“Stressful. There are times when my blushing bride looks at me, and I swear she’s plotting to kill me in my sleep.”
Big G chuckled.
“So your average marriage then.”
“Very funny. Is that what you called about? To gloat?”
“No, actually. But I saw the opportunity to get my kicks and couldn’t help myself.”
“I’m hanging up now,” I said drily.
