Page 14 of Finding His Redemption

And if he was honest with himself, he was tired of running. Tired of fighting. Tired of being alone with the darkness in his head.

“Yeah,” he said finally, setting down his fork. “Let’s go.”

Boone nodded, satisfied, and signaled for the check.

But when Nessie approached, she waved him off. “It’s on the house,” she reminded him, then smiled at Jax. “For fixing my tire and moving all that flour.”

Jax reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled five-dollar bill, part of the small amount of cash he’d been given upon release. He smoothed it on the table and slid it toward her.

“For the kid,” he said quietly. “For a monster muffin to keep him brave.”

Surprise shone in her eyes. “He’ll be thrilled,” she said, softer now. “Thank you.”

Their fingers brushed as she took the bill, and he felt a spark. Static from the dry air, but it jolted him nonetheless. She pulled back quickly, tucking the money into her apron pocket.

“Come back anytime,” she said, and sounded like she meant it.

Boone pushed back from the table and reached for his hat. “We’ll see you around, Nessie.”

Jax grabbed his duffel and followed Boone toward the door, conscious of the other patrons watching them go.

At the threshold, he paused and glanced back. Nessie stood behind the counter, Oliver at her side, the little boy waving enthusiastically. The bakery glowed with warm light and the scent of cinnamon, a pocket of normalcy in a world that had felt anything but normal for too long.

Nessie raised her hand in a small wave, and for a brief moment, Jax allowed himself to imagine a different life—one where he was just a guy getting breakfast, not an ex-con on a tight leash. One where he could sit in that bakery without counting exits and assessing threats. One where he might actually belong.

Then Boone honked from outside, and the moment shattered.

Jax hitched his duffel higher on his shoulder and stepped out into the cold Montana morning, letting the door swing shut behind him.

chapter

four

Boone didn’t saymuch as they pulled back onto the gravel road that wound toward the ranch. Just drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the open window, like he hadn’t just dragged Jax back from the edge of walking away for good.

The bunkhouse came into view, and his gut coiled tight. He wasn’t sure why this felt worse than walking into prison. Maybe because then, he’d had no choice. Now, he could’ve walked away, and he hadn’t.

Boone parked the truck beside a horse trailer and climbed out. “C’mon. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Jax thought of the men he’d caught glimpses of as he raced out of the bunkhouse that morning and didn’t move from his seat. He wasn’t interested in making friends.

Boone paused, unreadable as ever, then shut the door and started toward a barn like he knew Jax would follow him eventually.

He should’ve stayed back in town, jumped on a bus to nowhere.

But he hadn’t.

And he couldn’t stay in this truck forever. The sun was barely up, and it was already uncomfortably hot.

“Hell,” Jax muttered under his breath and slammed the truck door open.

They moved past the bunkhouse, where a couple of men loitered with coffee mugs, casting curious glances.

Jax kept his eyes forward, on Boone’s broad back, and tried not to think about them closing ranks, sharing whispers about the new guy who didn’t have the guts to stay gone.

They passed a barn and a series of paddocks, where horses and a shaggy cow watched from behind the fence. Hens strutted across the yard like they owned the place, clucking smugly to one another, and one massive, beady-eyed black rooster perched atop the chicken coop like a sentry.

He wasn’t just watching them. He wasglowering, his iridescent feathers catching the sun in flashes of green-blue, one thick talon clenched around the edge of the roof like he was daring them to make a wrong move.