Chapter 4 - The Open Road Backward
Slowly sliding his heavy palm away from the polaroid, Jax felt the eyes of the entire diner burning into the back of his neck. He looked down at the image of his younger self, remembering the exact night that picture was taken in a cramped, fluorescent-lit hospital room two counties over. He had looked at that newborn baby with pure terror in his chest, realizing he was a broke, reckless biker with no future to offer anyone. Frightened of dragging a family down into the dirt with him, he had walked out into the parking lot, started his engine, and never looked back.
The boy, sensing the shift in Jax's heavy demeanor, carefully unfolded the small piece of lined paper on the counter. Written in faded blue ink was a single address and a short sentence in handwriting Jax would recognize anywhere—the sweeping, elegant script of Sarah, the woman he had loved and left behind two decades ago. “He has your eyes, Jax. He has a right to know where the road ends.”
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Martha leaned in closer, reading the words over the boy's shoulder. Her suspicious glare dissolved into sudden, profound shock. She looked at Jax, her voice dropping to a breathless whisper. ""Sarah? You're telling me this is Sarah's boy?"" Jax didn't answer. He couldn't. His throat felt like it was full of gravel. He reached out with one trembling, tattooed finger and touched the edge of the folded paper, tracing the familiar handwriting as a wave of overwhelming guilt washed over him.
The kid watched Jax silently, his breathing slow and even, waiting for a verdict. The heavy door of the diner swung open again, letting in a gust of cold wind and the roar of a fresh group of bikers pulling into the gravel lot. The noise shattered the intimate bubble around the counter, reminding Jax that his old life—the club, the brotherhood, the code of the road—was right outside waiting for him. But as he looked down at the boy's scuffed sneakers, he knew the road ahead had completely changed.
