Chapter 8
The booth near the dry storage room was cast in dim, amber light filtered through a set of dusty yellow blinds. The low, relentless thrum of motorcycle engines outside sounded distant here, muffled by thick walls and the smell of old cedar and flour. Leo sat close against the vinyl wall, his legs swinging slightly above the floor because his boots didn't quite reach. In front of him sat a steaming mug of hot cocoa with miniature marshmallows melting on top—a luxury Martha had silently provided—and a plate of warm turkey sandwiches cut into neat triangles.
Jax sat across from him, his broad frame taking up the entire length of the opposite seat. He had pulled a folded, dog-eared road map from his back pocket and spread it across the scarred laminate table. Using the edge of a silver pocketknife as a weight, he anchored the map while his scarred finger traced a faint red highlighter line winding through the rugged, winding mountain passes two counties away.
"She’s at St. Jude’s clinic on the edge of the timber town," Jax murmured, his eyes scanning the topography lines of the map. "It’s a four-hour ride on the bike through the upper ridge. The roads are rough, and the weather’s turning sour tonight. If we leave now, we beat the storm front coming off the lake."
Leo took a slow sip of his cocoa, wiping a trace of foam from his upper lip with the sleeve of his oversized canvas jacket. He looked at Jax with complete, unshakeable trust. "You have a motorcycle, right? A big one?"
A rare, faint shadow of a smile touched Jax’s weathered lips. "Yeah, kid. A big, loud machine that makes entirely too much noise. But it runs fast, and it doesn't break down when things get steep."
"Can I ride on the back?" Leo asked, his hazel eyes widening with a mixture of apprehension and thrilling anticipation. "I’ve only ever seen them from the sidewalk when the rally comes through our town."
Jax paused, his throat tightening again. Putting a child on the back of a heavy V-twin chopper tearing through rain-slick mountain roads went against every rule of self-preservation and safety he had ever lived by. It was dangerous, exposed, and entirely exposed to the elements. But looking into those eyes—eyes that mirrored his own stubborn refusal to give up—Jax knew there was no other choice. Leaving the boy behind was no longer an option, and running alone was a coward's game he had finally finished playing.
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"With a proper helmet and a tight grip on my leather vest," Jax said softly, his voice firm and reassuring. "You hold onto me, Leo. No matter how loud the engine gets or how hard the wind blows, you just keep your arms wrapped around my chest and don't let go."
Leo nodded solemnly, the gravity of the pact settling over his small shoulders. He finished his hot cocoa in silence, feeling the warmth spread through his chest, replacing the cold chill of the long bus ride and the heavy burden of the secret he had carried across the state line.
