Chapter 11
The office of Henderson & Associates smelled of old paper, floor wax, and decades of legal despair. The rain had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, biting autumn morning that made the breath plume in white puffs on the sidewalk. Jax stood before the heavy mahogany desk of a balding attorney in his late fifties, holding a black ballpoint pen that felt absurdly light between his calloused fingers.
Leo sat quietly on a wooden bench just outside the open office door, swinging his scuffed sneakers back and forth while clutching the faded photograph in both hands. Through the frosted glass panel, Jax could see the small, familiar silhouette of the boy, a constant reminder of the gravity of the ink he was about to spill onto the page.
“It’s straightforward, Mr. Miller,” Attorney Henderson said, adjusting his half-moon spectacles as he pointed a manicured finger at the designated line at the bottom of the fourth page. “Temporary guardianship with provisions for full legal transfer upon the passing of the mother. It grants you medical, educational, and residential authority. Are you certain you want to proceed with this?”
Jax looked down at the paper. The legalese blurred together into meaningless blocks of text, but the name Leo Miller stood out in sharp, clean type near the top. He thought of the empty cot in the back of his mechanic’s shop in Reno, the grease-stained workbenches, the roar of the highway, and the big hazel eyes that looked at him with absolute, unearned faith.
“I’m sure,” Jax said, his voice low and unyielding.
He lowered the pen and pressed the tip to the paper. His signature was large, jagged, and aggressive—a scrawl of sharp angles that looked like barbed wire. It was the same signature he had used on club manifests and bail bonds, but today, it meant something entirely different. It was an anchor dropped into a stormy sea.
Henderson pulled the document toward him, blotting the ink with a small wooden rocker before stamping the corner with a heavy metallic seal that clicked with a satisfyingly final thud. He slid a copy of the paperwork across the desk into a manila folder and handed it up to the biker.
“You’re his legal guardian as of this moment, Mr. Miller,” Henderson said, his tone softening slightly as he looked past Jax toward the boy waiting outside. “She chose well. Make sure you don't prove her wrong.”
Jax took the folder, tucked it securely under his arm, and nodded once. He turned away from the desk without another word, walking out of the office and into the hallway.
May you like
Leo looked up as Jax approached, sliding off the wooden bench and standing straight. The boy didn't ask questions; he just looked at Jax’s face, searching for the verdict.
“Come on, kid,” Jax said, resting a heavy, warm hand on Leo’s messy light brown hair. “We got places to be.”
