When your guardian was the president of a motorcycle club, their parents wouldn’t let them come over for sleepovers. As I got older, girls only wanted to come by to check out the sexy bikers. I hated to break it to them, but not all bikers looked like Jax from Sons of Anarchy.
The person I wanted to talk to and tell the big news, I had no way of getting in touch with.
A few nights later, I heard Mattie’s motorcycle come up the driveway. I jumped out of bed. I was surprised he was in town. Papa Scott and the crew were on a ride to parts and mischief unknown.
Why didn’t Mattie go?
I ran downstairs and found him in the kitchen chugging milk out of the carton.
“Hey.”
He jumped.
“Jesus, Gracie.” He glared at me. “What are you doing up?”
”Your engine is getting louder.”
“Something’s wrong with it.” I noticed the road burn on his sleeve. His jacket was in shreds. “I’ll have Derrick look at it tomorrow.”
“Oh my God, Mattie.” I stepped up to him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He threw the carton in the sink and walked into the living room.
“Where’s my Mom?” He asked.
He held his arm down to his side like it was broken. His left shoulder hung lower than his right.
“She’s probably asleep.” I reached for his collar. “Take this off. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“You’re worried about me.” He winced as the jacket slid off his arm.
“Of course I am.”
He shrugged the jacket off of his shoulders.
I gathered it in my arms and laid it over a chair.
His jacket took the brunt of the skid, but his arm was red and irritated.
“Wiggle your fingers.”
He did as I asked.
“You did this on the ride.” I wrapped my fingers around his wrist. “Dad sent you home?”
“I wasn’t with them.”
“Where were you tonight?” I asked as I turned his wrist over and studied the abrasions.
Mattie didn’t answer me.
I looked up. He blinked back tears.
“Where were you, Mattie?”
He pulled his arm away. He grabbed the counter and rested his forehead on the cold marble.
“Mattie.” I walked over to him rubbed his back. “You’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”