My 7-year-old son was usually shy with strangers, so I froze when he ran past me outside school and hugged a big bearded biker I’d never seen. I rushed over, pulled Zion close, and demanded to know who the man was. He looked at my son, sighed, and said, “Well… I guess this is how you’ll find out.”
“Find out what?”
The biker didn’t answer.
“Find out what?”
Neither did my son.
That frightened me more than anything.
Zion was standing beside me with his backpack hanging from one shoulder, staring at his sneakers like they had suddenly become fascinating.
A minute earlier, I’d watched him race across the sidewalk and launch himself at this stranger.
That frightened me more than anything.
And the man had caught him.
Not awkwardly.
Not like an adult surprised by an overly friendly child.
He had laughed and wrapped both enormous arms around Zion as if this had happened before.
Many times before.
I tightened my grip on my son’s hand.
“Zion, get behind me.”
“Mom…”
“Zion, get behind me.”
“Now.”
He obeyed.
The stranger immediately took a step backward.
That helped.
Not enough.
Up close, he looked even more intimidating. He was well over six feet tall, with a thick gray-streaked beard, tattooed forearms, heavy boots, and a black leather vest. A motorcycle sat at the curb behind him.
Up close, he looked even more intimidating.
But he wasn’t looking at me.
He was looking at Zion.
And there was disappointment in his face.
“Buddy,” he said quietly, “you didn’t tell her?”
Zion shook his head.
My pulse jumped.
“Tell me what?”
Zion said nothing.
The biker exhaled. “Kid, we talked about this.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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