Chapter 12: The Open Road
Driving behind Jax’s truck felt entirely different from the solitary miles I’d logged over the years. Whenever the road climbed steep inclines, I watched the heavy frame of his pickup steadying the pace, cutting through the headwind so our overworked engine didn't have to strain. Every time we hit a long stretch of empty asphalt, the rhythmic thrum of the tires created a quiet sanctuary inside the cabin. Leo had curled up in the passenger seat an hour after crossing the county line, his head resting against the folded wool blanket I’d pinned to the door handle, fast asleep with his river stone clutched tightly in his hand.
We pulled off at a scenic overlook just before the sun began to dip below the jagged mountain peaks. The valley below was painted in brilliant shades of amber and violet, the shadows stretching long across the pine forests. Jax killed the truck engine and climbed out, stretching his tall frame before walking back toward our sedan. He kept his movements quiet so he wouldn't wake our sleeping boy, leaning his forearms against the rolled-down window on my side.
“Doing okay back here?” Jax asked, his voice softened by the quiet of the empty overlook.
“Better than okay,” I said, resting my hands on the steering wheel. I looked out at the vast, open country spread out before us. “I used to think that staying in one place meant you were safe, and moving meant you were running. But today it just feels like... breathing.”
Jax nodded slowly, his gaze drifting toward the sleeping boy in the front seat. A faint, gentle smile touched the corners of his mouth. “When I left town twelve years ago, I thought I was doing you a favor. I was just a kid with a busted guitar, a stolen motorcycle, and a head full of my old man's temper. I was terrified I’d pass that wreckage down to anyone who got too close.” He reached out, his calloused fingertips brushing lightly against the top of the car door. “Seeing Leo walk up to me in that diner... it scared the hell out of me. But it also woke me up.”
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“You’re not your father, Jax,” I said softly, meeting his dark, steady eyes. “You never were.”
“I’m figuring that out,” he murmured. He straightened up, glancing toward the fading light on the horizon. “Sun’s going down fast. Let's get down the mountain before the temperature drops. That diner with the pot roast is only twenty miles up the road.”
