Chapter 6: The Weight of the Past
Jax gently pulled the small boy closer, his massive, calloused hand resting awkwardly on Leo’s thin shoulder. The fabric of the oversized jacket was rough beneath his palm, but the heat of the child beneath it was undeniable. It was a anchor in a storm, pulling Jax back from the dark, swirling vortex of his memories. He looked up at Martha, offering a tight, grateful nod of acknowledgment for the coffee and pie. Martha offered a soft, understanding smile in return, then quietly turned away to busy herself with cleaning glasses at the far end of the counter, giving them the illusion of privacy in a crowded room.
"You must have walked a long way, kid," Jax murmured, his rough voice softening considerably as he looked down at Leo’s battered, dust-covered sneakers. The soles were literally held together with duct tape, and the laces were knotted in multiple places. It broke Jax’s heart to imagine the journey this little boy had endured to find him.
Leo gave a small, weary shrug, pulling up a stool next to Jax and climbing onto it with practiced effort. "I took buses when I had the change from Mom's jar," Leo explained matter-of-factly, resting his small elbows on the formica counter. "And when the money ran out, I walked along the shoulder of the highway. People in big trucks sometimes gave me rides for a few miles when they stopped at the diners."
Jax felt a cold terror grip his stomach at the thought of an eight-year-old child hitchhiking along dangerous American highways populated by the very dregs of society. It was a miracle—or something much more profound—that Leo had made it here in one piece. "You shouldn't have done that, Leo," Jax said, his tone carrying a firm, protective edge born from sheer panic. "The road is a dangerous place. It chews people up and spits them out."
"I had to," Leo replied simply, turning his big hazel eyes up to meet Jax’s gaze head-on. "Mom got too sick to get out of bed in the trailer park outside of Phoenix. Before she... before she went to sleep for the last time, she gave me the photo and the note. She told me to find the man on the iron horse who loved the mountains. She said you were the only family I had left in the whole wide world."
May you like
Jax swallowed hard against the tight knot forming in his throat. Phoenix. That was nearly four hundred miles away through the unforgiving desert. The sheer grit and determination required for an eight-year-old boy to cross that distance was staggering. It was a stark reminder of where Leo got his stubborn streak. Jax pulled his gaze away, staring down at the faded photograph and the folded note still resting on the counter. The ghost of his old life was no longer just a memory whispering in the dark; it was sitting right beside him, eating a slice of pie Martha had wordlessly slid over, swinging his scuffed sneakers against the rungs of the vinyl stool.
"What happened to the people who were supposed to look after you after Sarah... after your mom passed?" Jax asked, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl as a dark shadow crossed his weathered features. If anyone had neglected or mistreated the boy, the biker code in his veins whispered of swift, merciless consequences.
