Chapter 8
The motorcycle carved through the slick, rain-swept streets, its headlight cutting through the dark like a blade. Twenty minutes later, they pulled into a narrow driveway behind a weathered brick building with a sign that read Jax’s Garage & Repair. Above the workshop was a small, cozy apartment where Jax had lived alone for the past five years.
Jax killed the engine, and the sudden silence of the night rushed back in. He dismounted first, helping Leo unbuckle his helmet and slide out of the oversized leather jacket. The boy’s cheeks were flushed from the cold ride, but his eyes were wide with excitement rather than fear.
"Welcome to my castle," Jax said with a dry, self-deprecating smile, unlocking the metal exterior staircase that led directly up to the apartment door.
They climbed the stairs and stepped inside. The apartment was sparse but orderly—a worn leather sofa, a scarred wooden kitchen table, a small kitchenette, and a towering bookshelf crammed with manuals, novels, and old photo albums. A single floor lamp cast a warm, golden glow across the room.
"Sit down at the table, Leo. I'll make some hot tea," Jax instructed, shedding his ruined tuxedo jacket and tossing it onto a chair.
Leo sat down obediently, resting the old photograph carefully on the wooden surface. He looked around the room, taking in every detail—the tools on the shelf, the model motorcycles, the smell of motor oil and coffee. It wasn't fancy like the hotel dining room, but it felt solid, real, and safe.
Jax set two mugs of steaming tea on the table, sliding one toward the boy. He sat down opposite him, his tough exterior completely gone, replaced by the vulnerable, searching expression of a father trying to connect with a son he never knew existed.
"We need to talk about what happens tomorrow," Jax began softly, wrapping his large hands around his mug. "Legally, I’m not on your birth certificate. The authorities are going to have questions about where you came from, and I don't have custody papers."
"Mom said my birth certificate is in the metal box under the floorboards of our old room," Leo said, taking a small sip of his tea. "She hid it before the landlord locked the door."
Jax narrowed his eyes in concentration. "Where is the apartment?"
"On Fourth Street. The building is called the Oakridge apartments. The side window is broken, so if you push it hard enough, it slides open without the lock catching."
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Jax exhaled slowly, realizing they had a dangerous task ahead of them. Recovering those documents was essential if he wanted to keep Leo out of the foster care system and establish legal guardianship before anyone came looking for the boy.
"We'll go there tomorrow morning before dawn," Jax decided firmly. "We get your birth certificate, your mother's personal papers, and anything else that belongs to you. Then we go see a lawyer I know down by the docks."
