Chapter 10: The Highway Ahead
By the afternoon, the roar of the biker rally had begun to fade as leather-clad riders packed up their saddlebags and headed back out onto the interstate. The town was returning to its quiet, sleepy rhythm, but our lives had fundamentally shifted axis. Jax had spent the morning thoroughly tuning our sedan, replacing the worn spark plugs, flushing the brake lines, and strapping a new spare tire into the trunk. He stood beside the driver's side door, wiping his hands on a rag as I loaded Leo's duffel bag into the back seat.
“She’s running smooth now,” Jax said, closing the trunk with a solid, reassuring thud. “You can take her all the way to the coast without another hiccup. The radiator will hold.”
I leaned against the passenger door, looking out over the sun-drenched highway that stretched out toward the horizon. “What about you, Jax? Are you staying here, or are you packing up that bike of yours again?”
Jax looked down at his boots, then out toward the distant mountains where the asphalt disappeared into the glare. He reached into his vest pocket, his fingers brushing against the faded photograph and the small folded paper before pulling his hand out empty.
“I’ve lived in this town for five years,” Jax said quietly, lifting his gaze to meet mine. “Got a good setup at the garage, a steady paycheck, and a reputation that keeps people off my back. But none of that means a damn thing if I’m still living out of a trailer by myself.” He paused, taking a slow, deep breath. “I’m not running anymore, Clara. If you’re heading west, I’ve got tools in the back of my truck and a spare set of saddlebags. Or... if you need time to figure things out, I can stay right here in town, as close or as far as you need me to be.”
Leo came running out from the porch, holding a small smooth river stone he had found by the garden. He walked straight up to Jax and held it out, his face beaming with that same bright, hopeful expression he had worn inside the diner. “You should come with us, Jax. My mom packs the best peanut butter sandwiches for the road.”
May you like
Jax let out a low, genuine laugh—the kind that reached all the way to his eyes, smoothing away the hard lines of a dozen bitter years. He knelt down on one knee so he was eye-level with our son, taking the smooth stone from his small palm.
“Yeah?” Jax smiled, his voice thick with emotion. “Well, I suppose I could handle a peanut butter sandwich or two. Let me just go lock up the garage.”
