Chapter 4: Beneath the Chrome
The afternoon sun cast long, slanted shadows across the gravel parking lot. Jax crouched down so his eyes were level with the eight-year-old boy. Up close, the resemblance was undeniable, a haunting echo of a summer he had tried to erase. The boy didn't shrink back from Jax’s imposing size or the intimidating tattoos that crawled up his neck. Instead, Leo looked back with that same piercing, hopeful gaze.
"You're really him," Leo said softly, stating it as a fact rather than a question.
"Yeah, kid," Jax replied, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm really him. I... I didn't know you existed, Leo. Your mom... she never told me you were born. If I had known, things would have been different."
"Mom said you had to go away," Leo explained, his voice steady. "She said you made mistakes, but she never hated you. When she got sick, she put the picture in my hand and told me to find the man who knew how to fix broken engines. She said if anyone could understand a busted machine, it was you."
Jax felt a sharp sting behind his eyelids. He blinked rapidly, swallowing hard against the sudden lump in his throat. He reached out and gently touched the sleeve of Leo’s worn-out jacket. The fabric was thin, offering almost no protection against the biting mountain wind. It broke his heart in a way no knife or bullet ever could.
"Where have you been staying since the trailer?" Jax asked, his tone sharpening with protective urgency.
"Nowhere special. Behind the laundromat mostly. I had some crackers left from the shelter in Red Creek."
A cold rage flared in Jax’s chest, directed entirely at himself. While he had been riding highways, drinking cheap whiskey, and playing the hardened outlaw, his own flesh and blood had been sleeping behind a laundromat in the dirt. The realization tasted like ash. He stood up slowly, making a silent decision that would alter the trajectory of his entire existence. The club, the rally, the endless miles of open road—everything suddenly took second place.
"Get on the bike," Jax said, pointing toward the heavy leather passenger seat behind his saddlebags.
Leo’s eyes widened with a mixture of awe and disbelief. "On the chopper?"
May you like
"Yeah. Put this helmet on," Jax said, pulling a spare black helmet from his saddlebag and lowering it over the boy’s messy brown hair. It was far too big, resting on Leo’s shoulders, but the boy fastened the strap with shaking fingers, grinning from ear to ear.
***
