Page 28 of Property of Mongrel

When Nerd glared at him, he shook his head and told him, “All he did was update what you were using, Nerd. You didn’t miss anything and I won’t allow you to think any such thing, do you hear me?”

But the most fun was helping Gretchen of course. I think I’ve gained five pounds these past two weeks helping her. The second farmer’s market, with double the inventory, sold out within the first two hours of the market opening for the day. This time, not only was Doc there, but so were most of our brothers.

I’m excited as I cross the parking lot to head into therapy. I have a bag full of things I picked up for Addy that I hope she enjoys. My dad always did stuff like that for my mom; it was one of those lessons he was teaching me and Jonah before they died. When the other ol’ ladies found out why I was browsing through candles at one of the vendor’s tables, they decided to stick their noses into my business.

I should be pissed, but at this point, I’m used to the insanity that typically surrounds them, and some of their suggestions were thoughtful. I open the door and sign in then sit in a chair to wait for her to call me back.

“Mongrel?”

Her voice, which always has an impact on me, calls my name, pulling me from scrolling on my phone. I stand and slip it into the inside pocket of my cut and follow her back to her room. I’m pretty sure she’s going to need to do current measurements; hopefully, I haven’t lost too much range of motion.

“Hey, Addy,” I say once I get situated on the table.

“How have you been? I heard from a certain little boy that you got hurt a few weeks ago,” she asks.

“Yeah, I strained my shoulder,” I reply. “But I got in with Dr. Albertson ASAP, and he did scans and what-not and said I didn’t re-tear anything. While I don’t regret it because it saved Gretchen, it still pisses me off.”

“Why?” she questions.

“Because it’s pushed my release date back. I’ve been busting my ass to reach maximum medical improvement as quickly as I could, so I could ask you out! I already have our first date mostly planned,” I grumble. A thought occurs to me, likely from all those years of being bullied for being ‘mixed’ and I ask, “Are you… I mean, once I’m not your patient any longer, are you even willing to go out with me?”

The look on her face is priceless as she asks, “Please tell me you didn’t take me saying no as rejection? Because I’ve never met anyone like you, Mongrel. I would love to date you and get to know you better.”

My insecurities are still hounding me when I state, “I kinda did, but I suspect that’s my hang-up not yours.”

“What do you mean?” she presses.

“Because I’m biracial,” I reply. “That bothers more people than it should considering we’re in the twenty-first century and as far as I’m concerned, we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”

Her look changes to one of compassion, something I’ve seen first-hand at every appointment. “That’s happened to you in the past,” she surmises. “Can I let you in on a little secret?” At my nod, she adds, “My aunt gained custody of me when I was ten, but before that, I was bullied so much that I often thought maybe the world would be better without me in it. I had to work my ass off in therapy to eradicate those demons, but I still have some lasting quirks. But regardless of those things, Betty raised me to look at how a person treats me with their actions, not their words, and to never judge someone by their appearance. She told me that there are people walking around who are externally beautiful but internally, they’re ugly as hell. They’re resentful, greedy, and often entitled, and it doesn’t matter what color they are at all. So, no, it doesn’t matter to me that you’re biracial. Based on your age, I suspect your parents had a very strong relationship to overcome any prejudices they faced.”

Rubbing my hand down my face, I sigh as stuff rearranges itself in my head. I’m definitely not rid of my insecurities thanks to my grandfather, as well as some of the bullying I dealt with in school but knowing that my ethnicity isn’t in the way of us building something together is a welcome relief.

“They loved each other so much,” I murmur. “I remember them dancing around the kitchen after dinner. He always helped her clean up even though he worked all day, and even though we would offer to help, he’d say that it was ‘their’ time. He came home every Friday night with fresh flowers for the vase she had on the mantle, taught her how to take care of our hair since it’s different than Caucasian hair, and looked like a proud peacock whenever we were out and about as a family. I’m… I’m pretty sure she probably got snide looks and shit whenever she took us out on her own, because her skin was so pale and we obviously were not, but it didn’t change how she loved my dad, or how she treated us kids.”

This whole time, she’s been checking my stats and jotting them in my chart on her laptop. While I wish we could talk longer because I wanna know the story behind why she went to live with her aunt at such a young age, I know it’s time to focus in again and strengthen my shoulder.

“Surprisingly, you didn’t lose any range of motion, which I’m happy to see,” she says. “So, without further ado, go write your alphabet for the next ten minutes, Mongrel.”

Chuckling, I get off the table and go to where the wrist weights are stacked, grabbing a five pound one and strapping it on, then head to the ‘writing wall’. Setting the timer on my phone, I start exercising.

Forty-five minutes later, as she’s rubbing the stuff she uses into my shoulder and upper back, she asks, “Did you know that JB’s getting adopted?”

I grin; that little guy burrowed behind my defenses. “Yeah, I saw him at the farmer’s market and he told me. He seems really excited too, because he’s going to have a brother now and a good man is going to help him thrive as he gets older.”

“Yeah, I told his foster mom to let me know when the adoption date is scheduled because I’d like to be there to help them celebrate. I know he shared a lot during y’all’s sessions so I’m not violating HIPAA, but he deserves it.”

“Hopefully, I’m done by then because I’d like to go with you,” I say. “Plus, I’m sure I can talk Gretchen into making him more treats for the party I’m sure they’ll have.”

“Even though you missed two weeks, you’re only about a week off from your anticipated release date, so I suspect we can make that happen,” she replies, smiling at me.

“Good, then it’s a date,” I state.

“Jonah, she’s willing to date me,” I confess as I sit with my brother at the bar. “Oh, and our two prospects are thrilled that you’ll be joining them in the near future.”

He smirks at me, then retorts, “So looking forward to mucking out stalls.”

I burst out laughing as I pound him on the back. “You get used to it, I promise. Hell, I still help when I don’t have anything else going on.” He doesn’t realize this, but most folks who wanna prospect with the club are employed by the Triple R first so that Rio can assess their skills and see if they have what it takes to be a King. Jonah’s getting a pass on that since he’s my brother. He’s been around since they showed up and has spent time exploring the ranch, asking questions, and even pitching in without being asked. That goes a long way with Rio.