Chapter 2: The Echo of a Name
The word hit Jax like an unblocked blow to the chest. Lara was gone. The woman he had walked away from nine years ago, convincing himself that a drifting biker had no place in a quiet life, was no longer in this world. And in her place stood this boy—his son.
Martha stepped out from behind the counter, her expression softening from suspicion to deep sympathy. "Jax," she said quietly, placing a warm hand on his shoulder. "Why don't you two take a booth in the back?"
Jax didn't move for a long moment. His mind raced back to a rainy night nearly a decade ago, the arguments, the fear of turning out like his own father, and the cowardice that made him ride away before dawn. He had chosen the road because the road asked for nothing. Now, the past was standing right in front of him, asking for everything.
"Come on," Jax said, his voice softer now as he slid off the stool. He gestured toward the corner booth, bathed in the amber glow of the afternoon sun filtering through the blinds.
Leo nodded and followed, carrying his small canvas backpack like a precious treasure. Sitting across from Jax, the boy looked tiny against the vinyl seats, yet his presence filled the entire space between them.
"Have you eaten?" Jax asked, looking down at the untouched photograph resting between them.
May you like
Leo shook his head. "I took two buses to get here. The man at the garage in town said I'd find you at the rally."
Jax felt a sharp pang of guilt. An eight-year-old child had traveled across state lines alone, guided only by a address on an envelope and a name spoken in hushed tones before a mother's passing.
