Chapter 13
By midday, they had crossed the state line into Wyoming, the towering peaks of the Rockies rising majestically in the distance, their snow-capped summits cutting sharply into the brilliant blue sky. The truck hummed along the highway, burning through Martha’s gas and chewing up the miles with a steady, reliable rhythm.
Inside the cab, the heavy, defensive walls Jax had spent decades building around his heart had begun to fracture, replaced by a quiet, steady rhythm of shared silence and broken conversation. They stopped at a roadside diner for lunch—burgers and milkshakes this time—and for the first time, Jax found himself answering Leo’s endless stream of questions about what life on the road was really like.
“Did you really ride across five states in a blizzard once?” Leo asked, his eyes wide with wonder as he slurped his chocolate shake through a paper straw.
“South Dakota,” Jax corrected, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “And it wasn't a blizzard, it was just a bad November squall. My fingers were so frozen I couldn't feel the clutch lever. Dumbest thing I ever did.”
“What’s the smartest thing you ever did?”
Jax went quiet, his spoon hovering over his plate of fries. The question hit him harder than any punch Dalton could have thrown. For forty-eight years, his life had been a catalog of reckless mistakes, selfish departures, and burned bridges. What was the smartest thing he had ever done?
He looked across the laminate table at the boy—at Clara’s hazel eyes, her stubborn chin, and the worn corduroy jacket that smelled of old memories.
“Sitting down on that diner stool yesterday,” Jax said softly, his voice unwavering.
Leo lowered his shake, blinking in surprise. A quiet understanding passed between them, deeper than any words could capture. The boy reached across the table, his small, pale fingers briefly touching the back of Jax’s scarred hand before withdrawing shyly.
May you like
They paid the check and climbed back into the truck, the miles rolling away beneath them like an open book. As the afternoon shadows lengthened, casting long fingers across the Wyoming plains, Jax felt a strange, unfamiliar sensation settling into his bones: a sense of purpose. For the first time in his life, he wasn't running away from his past; he was carrying it forward, transforming the wreckage of his mistakes into the foundation of a new beginning.
They still had a long way to go before they reached the Oregon coast, and the shadow of the Iron Skulls still lingered somewhere behind them in the rearview mirror, but as Jax glanced over at Leo staring out the window at the mountains, he knew one thing for certain: he was never letting go of the wheel again.
