“It itches,” Lily said, inching closer. “But the doctor says I can’t scratch under the cast. Ethan signed it already. Want to see?”
She held out her arm, and Marcus crouched down to examine the signatures and doodles covering the bright blue plaster. Ethan had drawn what looked like a motorcycle, or possibly a very elaborate bicycle, along with his name in careful block letters. Someone else had added a smiley face and “Get well soon.”
“That’s pretty cool,” Marcus said sincerely. “Blue’s a good color.”
“I wanted pink, but they didn’t have pink,” Lily explained with the seriousness of someone discussing a major life disappointment. “So, I picked blue because that’s Ethan’s favorite.”
Thomas had made his way down the steps, his expression cautious but welcoming. “Thanks for coming. The kids haven’t talked about anything else since you texted.”
“No problem.” Marcus straightened, suddenly aware of how out of place he looked in this neighborhood. A leather-clad biker standing in front of a struggling family’s home, drawing curious glances from neighbors who probably already had the police on speed dial.
“So,” Ethan said, practically vibrating with anticipation, “can we sit on it now? Please?”
Marcus glanced at Thomas, who nodded. “All right. Ethan first, since he’s older.” He helped the boy climb onto the bike, positioning him carefully on the seat. Ethan’s hands immediately went to the handlebars, gripping them with reverence.
“It’s so big,” he breathed. “How do you reach the ground?”
“Lots of practice and longer legs,” Marcus said with a smile. “When I was your age, I couldn’t even imagine being tall enough to ride one of these.”
“Did you always want a motorcycle?”
The question was innocent, but it touched on memories Marcus usually kept locked away. “Yeah,” he admitted. “My uncle had one. He’d take me for rides sometimes before… before things got complicated. It was the only time I felt like I was flying.”