Page 9 of Property of Mongrel

“Alrighty, can you get up on the table and lay flat?” I ask. “I need to take measurements of your leg, then we can get back into your wheelchair so I can do the same thing with your arm.”

He’s fascinated with the tools I use, asking questions that I freely answer. I know he’s young but I’m a firm believer that kids are far more intelligent than we give them credit for being, and if he understands what our goals are, he’ll be more likely to do the exercises at home.

“What else?” he asks when I’m finally done with all my measurements.

“Now, I’m going to show you and Mama Rossi the exercises I want you to do at home between our sessions. You ready?” I question.

“Me and Iron Man can do it,” he promises.

As I show him then let him do it by himself, I say, “Now, to help with all of this, you’re going to need to eat all of your vegetables, JB. The right food is important to make sure we get the most out of therapy.”

Darby says, “I went online when he was in the casts and found out what would help the most. We increased his protein intake, and of course, vegetables, because I saw that protein helps in the healing process. He still occasionally has a protein drink in between, plus plenty of water.”

“I like regular water, but sometimes, I add water flavors, what about you?” I ask JB.

“Sometimes, Mama Rossi adds cherry,” he whispers as if it’s a huge state secret. “But I like regular water okay, I guess. And I also get Gatorade, the blue one!”

“I like cherry, but fruit punch Gatorade is my favorite,” I confess. “Now, you’ve done very well today, JB, but you might be a little bit sore later since we did a lot. You might not think we did, but trust me, your muscles will ache. So, what I want you to do is when you’re getting ready for bed, make sure you take a bath with Epsom salts. It’ll help ease the aches from your muscles working so hard today. Can you do that for me?”

He nods then says, “Mama Rossi made sure that when they took my casts off, I got a bath like that.”

“Then I’m gonna tell you to keep it up,” I reply. “I’ll see you guys in two days and if Mama Rossi tells me you’ve been doing your at-home exercises, there might just be a surprise for you after your session. We’re going to be working hard, so I want you to make sure you wear loose, comfortable clothing, okay?”

“A surprise?” he asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Yeah, it’s something I do for all my favorite superheroes,” I tell him. “Do you need help getting back into your chair since we worked so hard?”

“No, I can do it,” he says as he carefully and cautiously gets down from the table and using that and the wheelchair handle for balance, he gets into the chair with a huge grin.

Looking at Darby, I say, “Jennifer will get you guys on my schedule. I’ll see you in two days but if you have any questions, you have my number. Just call or text.”

“Will do, Addy. Thank you so much,” she says as she stands and prepares to leave.

CHAPTER

FIVE

Mongrel

I wake up far earlier than normal. Ever since I went from ranch hand to prospect, my alarm has mostly been silent. I still tend to get up earlier than most of my brothers, and I also go out and help Pancho and Luis when I can if there’s nothing going on club wise but actually setting my alarm hasn’t been done since I became a full patch brother.

“It’s too early for this shit,” I mumble as I roll out of bed and head to my ensuite. I’m supposed to shower with a special soap, which I picked up on my way back from dinner. Even though they’ll disinfect the area once I’m in the operating room, it’s apparently an important part of what I have to do to be ready.

As the water heats, I strip out of the sleep pants I typically wear and toss them in the hamper, before I step beneath the warm spray. Reading the bottle, I realize that I have to allow this soap to stay on the surgical area for a minimum of five minutes. Rolling my eyes, I get started, washing my hair first before I pump some out of the container and start lathering it on my shoulder, arm, and upper chest. While it sits, I wash the rest of my body, sighing when I realize that for the foreseeable future, not having my other hand and arm to do this is going to make it a huge pain in the ass.

Because in Texas, especially this time of the year, the temperatures are high enough that it’s almost mandatory to shower twice a day. Otherwise, you end up feeling miserable with swamp ass. With wearing a leather cut, jeans, and a T-shirt most days, I’m always a hot, sweaty mess by the time I’m back at the clubhouse for the night.

Once I estimate that it’s been at least five minutes, possibly more, I finish rinsing myself then step out of the shower, grabbing a clean towel to dry off. Finally satisfied that it’s as good as it’s gonna get, I brush my teeth, comb my hair, then swipe on some moisturizer. I think it was either Issy or Livy who got all the brothers skincare items last Christmas. They took a lot of shit, but I grin as I remember Issy telling Rio that she was trying to protect his skin. It’s got SPF in it, don’t remember how much, but it’s sufficient to protect us when we’re out and about.

“Now, what the hell do I wear?” I grumble as I stare at my dresser.

Sighing, I grab a pair of lightweight sweats and slide them on over my boxer briefs, then head to the closet. I’ve never been the type to wear a button-up shirt, not even when I was a kid, so I’m kind of limited on what I can wear. I finally grab a plain T-shirt. I’ll ask Doc what he thinks I should buy for after the surgery. I mean, when I’m in my room, I can go shirtless, but I won’t disrespect the ol’ ladies of the club by roaming around the common area or kitchen without one.

I slip on some socks and a pair of tennis shoes, grinning when I think about how many pairs of them I’ve gone through over the years. These aren’t used for running anymore because the grip isn’t there, but they’re perfect for knocking around, and my motorcycle boots won’t go with sweats. But my cut is non-negotiable, so I slip that on then head out of my room to go downstairs.

“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” Gretchen shrieks as she walks into the kitchen.

I’m sitting there, my head bowed over a steaming cup of black coffee. A smirk dances on my lips when she walks over and snatches the mug out from under me. “What?” I ask, my expression innocent.