Chapter 9
The fluorescent light above the motel sink flickered, casting a sickly greenish hue over the cramped room. Sarah leaned back against the headboard, her breathing shallow and labored, but her posture carried the strange, hollow peace of a person who had just handed off the heaviest burden of her life. Jax remained seated on the edge of the mattress, the silence between them no longer hostile, but weighed down by the terrifying reality of a new beginning.
“There’s a lawyer in town,” Sarah said softly, breaking the quiet. Her hand drifted across the blanket to rest lightly on Leo’s light brown hair. The boy leaned into her touch, his small frame unmoving. “Down on Main Street. Name is Henderson. I paid him a retainer three months ago when the cough wouldn't stop. Temporary guardianship papers. Everything is signed. All you have to do is show up and put your name on the dotted line.”
Jax looked at her, his jaw tightening. “You planned this.”
“I prepared,” Sarah corrected gently. “There’s a difference. When you live on borrowed time, you learn to wrap up the loose ends before the wind blows them away. I didn't know if Leo would find you, Jax. But I prayed he would. You were the only gamble I had left.”
Jax let out a low rumble in his throat, shaking his head. He reached into his vest pocket and pulled out the faded photograph he had covered on the diner counter hours earlier. He set it down gently on the nightstand beside the pill bottle. In the dim light of the motel room, the young, reckless biker and the tiny newborn stared up from the glossy paper, bridging the chasm of fifteen lost years.
“I wasn't ready then,” Jax said, his voice barely above a whisper, directed as much to himself as to Sarah. “I was twenty-three and terrified of my own shadow. I thought leaving was doing you both a favor.”
“I know,” Sarah whispered back. Her hand slipped from Leo’s head and reached out, her pale, thin fingers brushing against the back of Jax’s calloused hand. Her skin was dry and burning with a low fever. “We were kids playing out of our depth, Jax. But you aren't twenty-three anymore. And neither am I.”
Leo looked up at Jax, his hazel eyes wide and steady. “Mom says you have a motorcycle.”
A faint, reluctant smile finally broke through the grim lines of Jax’s beard. “Yeah, kid. I do.”
“Can I ride on the front next time?” Leo asked, his voice filled with a child’s unfiltered curiosity.
May you like
Before Jax could answer, a sudden, violent fit of coughing wracked Sarah’s frame. She pulled her hands away, pressing a thin white handkerchief to her mouth, her body curling inward against the pain. Jax reacted instantly, his large hand supporting her back, steadying her until the spasm passed. When she pulled the handkerchief away, a dark crimson stain marred the white fabric.
Jax’s eyes hardened with a grim, unyielding resolve. The time for talking was over.
