Chapter 8: The Weight of Confession
Brick laughed, a short, ugly sound that lacked any real humor, before he spat on the gravel near Jax’s boots. "You think you can just take off the patch after all this time and play suburban dad? You're a ghost, Jax. You were a ghost before that kid was even born." With a sharp motion, Brick jerked his head toward the other two men. "Let's roll. Leave him to rot in his scrap heap."
The engines roared to life one by one, tearing the night silence apart with a violent, concussive rattle that shook the dust off the nearby truck hoods. Headlights swept across the salvage yard in wild arcs, blinding me momentarily before cutting hard toward the front gate. I pressed myself flat against the metal siding of the flatbed, watching the tail-lights vanish down the county road until only the hum of the single yellow work light remained.
For a long time, Jax didn't move. He stood in the open doorway of the trailer, his hands resting on his hips, his head bowed slightly as the exhaust fumes slowly drifted away into the dark. I pushed myself up from the dirt, my knees trembling slightly, and stepped out from behind the truck. The gravel crunched under my scuffed sneakers.
Jax jerked his head around at the sound, his dark beard catching the yellow light, his eyes sharp and defensive before they softened into something exhausted and deeply tired. He let out a long breath, a plume of white vapor rising into the cool air. "What are you doing here, Leo? I told Marge to keep you away from the pit tonight."
"I heard them," I said, my voice barely above a whisper as I walked closer, stopping a few feet from the bottom of the trailer stairs. "You gave up your vest because of me."
Jax reached up, rubbing the back of his neck where a faint scar cut through his long dark hair. He walked down the metal steps, his heavy boots hitting the ground with a dull thud, and pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket, though he didn't light one. He just turned it over and over in his rough fingers.
"I gave up my vest because it was time," Jax said, his voice dropping into a register that felt meant only for the two of us. He looked down at me, taking in my old jacket and the nervous way I held my hands in my pockets. "You think I like living like this, Leo? Moving from one dusty town to another, sleeping in back rooms, pretending the past doesn't exist? When I left your mother eight years ago, I was twenty-five, half-wild, and scared to death of what it meant to take care of someone who actually depended on me. I thought walking away was an act of mercy. I thought I was saving you both from a life on the highway that leads nowhere."
"Mom says you just vanished into thin air," I replied, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. "She didn't talk about you much, but when she did, her voice sounded like glass."
"She had every right to be angry," Jax nodded slowly, his gaze drifting off toward the stacked tires at the edge of the yard. "I left her alone in a cramped apartment with no money and a belly full of tomorrow. I told myself I’d come back when I got my act together, but the road has a way of swallowing you whole. Every year I stayed away made it harder to turn the bike around. By the time I saw you at the diner, holding that faded photo like a key... I knew my time of running was over."
May you like
He stepped closer, kneeling down slightly so we were eye to eye—my big hopeful hazel eyes meeting his dark, weathered gaze. The tension that had hung between us since the diner rally finally cracked open, leaving only the quiet truth of who we were.
"I'm not running anymore, Leo," Jax said quietly, reaching out to place a heavy, warm hand on my shoulder. "Tomorrow morning, we're going to go see your mother. Together. No secrets, no hiding behind diner counters."
