Chapter 11: Finding a Home
The next forty-eight hours were a blur of frantic activity that completely upended Jax’s solitary existence. Guided by Sarah Vance’s strict housing guidelines, Jax scoured the industrial and residential outskirts until he found a modest, two-bedroom apartment on the second floor of a quiet brick building three blocks away from Lincoln Elementary School. It had peeling yellow wallpaper in the hallway, creaky floorboards, and a tiny patch of overgrown grass out back, but it had clean windows, a working kitchen stove, and two actual beds.
Jax spent his entire savings account on a secondhand twin mattress, a small wooden desk, a desk lamp, and a stack of lined notebooks for school. He lugged the heavy furniture up the stairs himself, his muscles aching with a satisfying fatigue he hadn't felt in years. Leo helped wherever he could, carrying small items like pencils, a brand-new box of crayons, and a bright red backpack that looked ridiculously large on his slight frame.
By Wednesday evening, the apartment actually felt like a home. The heavy leather vest still hung over the back of the kitchen chair, but now it sat beside a stack of school permission slips and a jar of peanut butter. Jax stood in the small kitchen, boiling water for simple pasta, while Leo sat at the newly purchased wooden desk in his bedroom, carefully taping the faded photograph of his father and a young Jax to the corkboard above his bed.
A soft knock sounded on the front door. Jax wiped his hands on a dish towel and walked down the short hallway to open it. Sarah Vance stood on the landing, holding her clipboard, her eyes scanning the neat, orderly interior of the apartment with genuine surprise.
“I must admit, Jax,” Sarah said, stepping inside and wiping her shoes on the welcome mat. “When you said you’d find a place by Wednesday, I expected a dingy motel room with a fresh coat of paint. This is actually... livable.”
“Livable is my middle name,” Jax joked dryly, gesturing for her to sit at the kitchen table. “Everything is in order. The lease is signed for a year, the utilities are in my name, and I’ve got confirmation from the school registrar that Leo’s enrollment is locked in for Monday morning.”
Sarah flipped through her clipboard, checking off a series of boxes. She glanced toward the hallway where Leo was currently organizing his colored pencils on his new desk. Her sharp demeanor had completely dissolved into a quiet, professional respect.
“You’re taking this seriously, aren’t you?” she asked softly, looking up into Jax’s weathered face.
“Every single second,” Jax replied without a trace of hesitation. “For twenty years, I thought freedom meant having nothing to lose. I was wrong. Having him here... it’s the first time I’ve felt anchored to the earth in my entire life.”
May you like
Sarah nodded approvingly, signing the final inspection sheet on her clipboard. “First formal check is complete. Keep up this pace, Jackson. Monday morning is D-Day for kindergarten. Make sure he has his shoes tied and his backpack packed.”
***
