Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(41)

“Yeah, there are bullies. Nothing I couldn’t handle, but some kids had it bad.”

“How bad?”

“They just weren’t tough up here,” he says, tapping his temple. “That’s what it takes. You don’t have to be big or strong, you just got to be tough, not back down, not be afraid. They’re only other boys just like you, you know? Other kids who are also scared. We were all rejected, unwanted. Kids take it out on each other, that’s nothing new.”

“Yeah, I read about that, too, but the teacher was writing from a girl’s perspective. She said the toughest thing to deal with was constantly being reminded that you were unwanted, almost forgotten, you know? Like, it’s something that’s really easy to dwell on.”

“When you’re younger, yeah,” Duncan says, and I swear I hear a hitch in his voice, just a momentary break in that hard, outer shell. “You stop thinking about that shit as you get older. And then maybe, once you get older than that, you start thinking about it again. But I’m not there yet.”

“I read that in some group homes, the staff aren’t even allowed to hug the kids. Every kid needs hugs, right?”

“Hugs?” Duncan echoes.

“Yeah,” I say. “Affection. Otherwise they never learn to show it themselves. Group homes don’t prepare kids for normal adult life. They…”

My voice trails off. I’m embarrassed to have said that.

“I’m sorry.”

Duncan shrugs. “Like I said, I don’t think about that shit.”

But I don’t believe him. Otherwise, why would he get the tattoo of the house? It doesn’t make sense.

“I got this just to remind me, you know.”

I blink. It’s like he can read my mind.

“If you were wondering.”

“I was.” I decide to change the subject. “What about this?” I say, tracing the outline of his other big tattoo, a leaping tiger. It’s not snarling ferociously or anything, but it seems to be leaping over the house. It takes up the whole other side of his chest and stomach.

“I got that in Thailand,” he says. “Result of a drunken night out.”

“You went out drinking?”

“Yeah. Me and another kid from the village would sneak out, go into town, hit up the bars. It was always good for a laugh, all the foreign tourists making asses of themselves. Sure, I mean, I wasn’t Thai, you know, so I still was not one of them, but I mean, I caught on quick. Some of these guys, just embarrassing. They’d be falling off barstools, getting cleaned out by all the waitresses and dancers who knew an easy mark when they saw one.”

“Sounds fun,” I lie, not bothering to hide my distaste in my voice.

“You don’t like it.”

“I know the reputation Thailand has. I mean, the red-light reputation.”

“It’s not all like that,” he says, gently stroking my arm. “Actually, for the most part it’s pretty straight forward these days, but yes, there is a rep. Hey, it’s a poor country, and tourists bring their money in.”

“I don’t like it,” I say, knowing that maybe I’m being harsh, maybe I’m being judgmental. “Dad has pimps out here working for him, and they force the girls, give them no choice. I know it, and I hate it, and I bet for a lot of those girls over there, it’s the same.”

“I bet it is, too.”

“So why the tiger?” I say.

“Well, to be honest with you, it was the kid’s idea.”

“The kid?”

“Yeah, the other boy from the village. He was the closest one to my age, younger than me by a year I think. He said the tiger symbolized unconditional confidence and discipline in Buddhism, which was their faith… philosophy. He said the bald white man – what they called your Dad – was trying to make me his pet, and only through unconditional confidence in myself, and mental discipline, could I resist being enslaved.”

He shrugs.

“Why over the house?”

“I have to be confident about who I am, and that includes where I came from.”

“Huh,” I say. I didn’t actually expect the tattoo to have that much sentimental significance, though I don’t know why. Dad’s always hated tattoos, but now that I think about it, he hasn’t mentioned them with regard to Duncan once.

“What about these?” I run my hand over his shoulder, over the intricate script that adorns it, stretches around onto his back. It’s weird, because on his arms, he’s got tribal-inspired lines as well that run even on the underside his arms and down his ribcage and waist. It’s two totally different styles.