Page 91 of Finding His Redemption

Walker didn’t push. Let the silence hang.

“I was married once,” he said at last when Jax didn’t finish his thought. “Long time ago. She left the state when I went to prison and took my daughter. Said the worst thing about me wasn’t the violence. It was the way I could vanish right in front of her. Sit at the table, smile and nod, but not really be there. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah.”

“Nessie looks at you like my ex looked at me. Like she desperately wants to see you.”

Jax shifted in his seat, unsure what to say to that. Nessie already saw too much, and it scared the hell out of him. Could he let her see every ugly thing about him?

Walker softened a fraction. “I like her. Good head on her shoulders, works hard, loves her boy. But, son, you gotta be damn sure about her because, you’re right, she’s got problems you don’t want any part of.”

A beat passed in silence.

“So,” Walker added, “I’m asking what your intentions are regarding her.”

Jax looked at the wall of Valor Ridge graduates. Could he be like them and leave here whole?

Did he even want to leave here?

“I don’t know my intentions,” he said finally. “I just know I feel calm around her. She makes me feel… human. And I haven’t felt that way in a very long time.”

Walker watched him for a long beat, then nodded as if he’d gotten what he wanted. “Keep your nose clean. Don’t go into town unless you have to. Sheriff’s still looking for a reason.”

Jax stood, understanding he’d just been dismissed. “Yes, sir.”

“One more thing.”

He stopped in the doorway but didn’t turn. “Yeah?”

“I know you think you’re alone in this,” Walker said softly, “but you’re not. You ever need to talk, you know where to find me. “

chapter

twenty-seven

By the timeJax finally worked up the energy to walk back to the bunkhouse, he found the others in the common area, unwinding after dinner.

River sprawled on the couch, one leg hooked over the back as he scrolled aimlessly through Netflix. Did the guy ever sit like a normal person?

Anson sat at the other end of the couch, a boot in his lap. He worked a rag over the battered leather with the quiet focus of a man who treated leather like scripture. It was the kind of mindless, repetitive task that kept your hands busy while your brain tried to sort through whatever mess it had been chewing on. Bramble, the wolfhound, lay faithfully by his feet.

Ghost sat at the oak dining table, laptop open, fingers tapping a rhythm on the keys that suggested he was both bored and running three different programs at once.

X and Bear were shooting pool, although they had to work around King, who was standing on his hind legs with his front feet on the table as he watched the cue balls roll with avid interest. That shaggy beast really had no clue of his size.

Jonah was on kitchen duty this week, so he stood at the sink, scrubbing out a pot. As usual, he was the first to spot Jax. “Yo. There’s stew in the fridge. If you hurry, it’s probably still warm.”

Jax eyed the fridge dubiously. “Did Bear make it?”

Jonah chuckled. “No, I did.”

Bear straightened away from the pool table and grumbled. “I’m not that bad of a cook.”

The men gave a chorus of, “Yeah, you are.”

X leaned on his cue. “Your version of seasoning is to dump in a can of salt.”

“Salt’s a seasoning.”

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