Page 13 of Finding His Redemption

He dragged his gaze back to the man. “Crystal.”

Alcohol and drugs had been his downfall after the mission went bad in Afghanistan. He’d spent years in a chemical fog before he’d finally crossed the line and hurt Alexis. Sometimes he still woke up tasting tequila and blood, and had no intention of going back to that kind of life.

“Rule three: Therapy is mandatory. Twice a week with Dr. Johanna Perrin. You talk, or you don’t talk—that’s between you and her. But you show up.”

A muscle in Jax’s jaw twitched. He’d had enough therapy in prison to last several lifetimes. None of it had helped. What wasthe point of talking about things that couldn’t be changed? Dead teammates stayed dead. Broken minds stayed broken.

“Rule four: Respect the animals. Every animal on that ranch has issues, just like the men. You treat them right, or you answer to me personally.” Boone’s tone made it clear that answering to him wasn’t an experience anyone would enjoy.

The bell above the door jingled as a woman with a toddler on her hip entered. Nessie greeted them both, mom and child, by name, her smile warm and genuine. The little girl reached for her, and without hesitation, Nessie took her, balancing the child on her hip while she took the mom’s order.

It looked so easy, so natural. The casual way people touched each other in the real world. Jax couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him without a clinical purpose or violent intent.

“Rule five,” Boone was saying, “you’re not a lone wolf anymore. We watch each other’s sixes here. You’ve got brothers at the Ridge, whether you want them or not.”

Nessie set the little girl in a high chair, then moved behind the counter to pour coffee for an older man. Under the ridiculous apron, she wore faded jeans and a black tank top, practical clothes for a woman who worked with her hands. Nothing special, nothing flashy.

Boone snapped his fingers in front of Jax’s face, the sound sharp as a gunshot. “Pay attention, Thorne. This is important. You screw up, you’re gone. Simple as that. And you’ll probably end up back inside. Men like us don’t do well without a purpose.”

Jax’s throat constricted as an old familiar panic washed through him at the thought of going back to a cell. Five years in a box made a man appreciate open sky, even if he didn’t deserve it.

“You got family?” Boone asked abruptly.

“Parents in San Diego.” Technically true, though he hadn’t spoken to them since… he couldn’t remember. His father hadsent exactly one letter during his incarceration:We raised you better than this.The disappointment in those five words had been more suffocating than any prison cell.

“They know where you are?”

“No.” And he wanted to keep it that way. Let them think he was still locked up. Or dead. That seemed kinder.

Boone slid another folded paper across the table. “Your schedule for the first week. Wake up at five. Breakfast at five-thirty. Work assignments start at six. You’ll be with me today, learning the routine. The rest of the week, you’ll do whatever needs doing. You’ll meet with your parole officer on Thursday, and Dr. Perrin on Mondays and Wednesdays.”

Jax picked up the paper, fighting the urge to crumple it in his fist. His entire life reduced to time slots and duties, just like prison. The only difference was the scenery.

“You share the bunkhouse with six other guys. They’re good men. They’ve all been where you are.”

Jax doubted that. He folded the schedule carefully and slipped it into his pocket, more to have something to do with his hands than out of any real interest in its contents.

“Rule six,” Boone said, leaning forward with those implacable eyes fixed on Jax’s face. “No lies. No bullshit. You want to be left alone? Fine. You don’t want to spill your guts at dinner? Also fine. But don’t play games. We see through it.”

Nessie passed by their table again with a coffeepot. She topped off Boone’s mug. “More for you, Jax?”

“I’m good. Thanks,” he added a beat too late. The words felt rusty in his mouth, but he managed them.

She smiled, a quick upturn of lips that creased the corners of her eyes, before moving on to the next table.

“Last rule,” Boone said after she’d gone. “Valor Ridge doesn’t save people. You save yourself. We just give you the tools.”

Tools. Like Jax was some broken machine that could be fixed with the right wrench. Like all he needed was a little tune-up, and he’d be good as new.

“What if I don’t want to be saved?” The question slipped out before he could stop it.

Boone studied him for a long moment, face unreadable. “Then you’re wasting everyone’s time, including your own.” He tapped a finger against the table. “But I don’t think that’s true. Man who doesn’t want saving doesn’t stop to help a woman with a flat tire.”

Jax looked away, jaw tight. That was different. The woman had needed help. It was basic human decency.

“It’s your move, Thorne,” Boone said, settling back in his chair. “You ready to go back?”

Jax took another bite of eggs, mostly to buy himself time. Part of him still wanted to run—to walk out that door and keep walking until Valor Ridge and its rules and expectations were far behind him. But where would he go? What would he do? He had no money, no job prospects, and a reputation that would follow him everywhere.

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