Chapter 9
Jax dismounted stiffly, his joints aching from the long ride and the accumulated tension of the afternoon. He walked around to the passenger seat and lifted Leo down. The boy’s legs wobbled slightly as his sneakers touched the hard dirt, but he managed to keep his balance, his hazel eyes wide as he looked around at the cluttered, mechanical wasteland that was his new home.
“It’s not much,” Jax said, running a calloused hand through his long dark hair, a rare flicker of self-consciousness crossing his rugged features. “No electricity from the grid. I run a generator for the lights and tools when I need it. Water comes from a well out back. It’s quiet, though. Nobody bothers me out here.”
“It’s better than the bus station,” Leo replied honestly, offering a faint, tired smile.
Jax felt a lump form in his throat. He led the boy up the creaking wooden steps of the front porch and pushed open the heavy oak door. The interior of the cabin was sparse and utilitarian, smelling faintly of motor oil, old wood, and instant coffee. A narrow cot sat in one corner, piled high with heavy woolen blankets. A small wood-burning stove occupied the center of the room, and a scarred wooden table held a kerosene lamp, a stack of paperback books, and a solitary coffee mug.
It was the lair of a solitary wolf, a place designed for a man who had intentionally excised himself from human connection. Yet, as Jax watched Leo wander over to the small window and peer out at the sprawling desert landscape below, the room suddenly felt entirely different.
“You hungry?” Jax asked, walking over to a small propane-powered camp stove in the corner. “I’ve got canned beans, some dried beef, and half a loaf of bread left over from my run into town yesterday.”
“Beans sound good,” Leo said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the cot and letting his legs dangle. He looked exhausted, the adrenaline of the day finally draining completely from his small frame, leaving behind the profound fatigue of an eight-year-old who had carried a grown man’s burden across a state line.
Jax heated the beans in a small tin pot over the blue flame of the camp burner, dividing the meager meal into two chipped tin bowls. He handed one to Leo along with a plastic spoon. They ate in companionable silence, the only sound being the scraping of spoons against metal and the gentle whistling of the desert wind finding cracks in the cabin’s weathered walls.
May you like
As soon as he finished eating, Leo’s eyelids began to droop heavily. He tried valiantly to fight off sleep, blinking rapidly, but his head soon drooped forward.
Jax set his bowl down, walked over, and gently lifted the boy, swinging his legs up onto the cot and pulling the heavy woolen blankets over his shoulders. Leo let out a soft, contented sigh, his breathing evening out almost instantly as he drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.
