Chapter 11
By the time the sun dipped below the distant mountain peaks, casting a warm orange glow across the town square, Jax wiped his grease-stained hands on a rag and shut the hood of the Ford pickup with a satisfying click. Arthur walked over, wiped a finger across the newly repaired transmission housing, and nodded slowly. “Clean work. Damn clean. You start tomorrow morning at seven.”
True to his word, Arthur handed Jax a heavy brass key ring attached to a brass tag stamped with the number B. “Apartment’s up the exterior stairs behind the lumber yard. Water’s hot, stove works, and there’s a grocery store two blocks down.”
Jax took the keys, feeling the cool brass against his calloused palm. “Thanks, Arthur. I appreciate it.”
“Don't thank me yet, son,” Arthur said with a dry, knowing smile. “Raising a boy alone in this world is harder than fixing any truck engine ever made. Just be there for him. That’s all kids really need.”
Jax nodded solemnly, knowing the old man spoke a profound truth. He walked back to his truck where Leo was waiting patiently. They drove the short distance around the block to the back of the lumber yard, parking right at the base of a sturdy set of wooden stairs leading up to a modest second-floor apartment. They grabbed their duffel bags and climbed the stairs.
Unlocking the door, Jax pushed it open to reveal a surprisingly cozy space. It had hardwood floors, a small kitchen area with a retro checkered linoleum floor, a living room with a worn-out corduroy sofa, and two small bedrooms. It wasn't luxurious, but it was clean, smelled of fresh cedar from the lumber yard below, and most importantly, it was theirs.
Leo dropped his bag on the floor of the smaller bedroom, running his hand along the wooden window sill as he looked out over the quiet Oakhaven street below. The streetlights were just beginning to flicker on, casting a warm, golden glow across the pavement. There was no roaring crowd of bikers here, no frantic highway noise—just the peaceful hum of a small town settling in for the evening.
“Do you like it, Leo?” Jax asked quietly from the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his leather vest.
May you like
Leo turned around, a genuine, radiant smile breaking across his pale face—the first real smile Jax had ever seen from him. He nodded vigorously, his big hazel eyes shining in the dim light. “I love it, Jax. It’s a real home.”
Jax felt a lump form in his throat, forcing him to look away for a second to compose himself. He walked over, placing a heavy, gentle hand on his son’s messy light brown hair. “Yeah, buddy. It’s home.”
