12 Rounds

Chapter Seventeen

I never thought this day would come. Never thought I'd be sitting here, on this bed for the last time. I don't even know what to feel. Anything happy is undercut by disappointment. Anything sad is lifted up by excitement. Sometimes I think I'm crazy because I see things differently than everyone else. But then, it's clear to me that I was never the problem. All I'm doing is removing myself from a situation that would eat me alive if I stayed, both literally and figuratively.

All these years, I was gaslit into believing that what I was seeing and hearing wasn't actually true, and I feel like I've finally broken that cycle. I'm finally getting out. I'm finally going to be safe...

Jax's head shot up at a sharp knock on his door. He snapped his journal shut and shoved it into the bag sitting on his bed - he'd finished his last shift at T-M about 20 minutes ago and just wanted to give himself a few last quiet moments here in this dorm where he'd spent so much of his adult life. The road was calling and Liv was waiting, but he'd wanted to give himself a second or two to really say goodbye.

Whoever was interrupting him now probably had good intentions, unless that person was Gemma or his former club president. But part of him really did just want to be left alone right now. If he could tiptoe out the back of the clubhouse, hop in his truck and pull his trailer out of the lot without looking like a coward, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Just as he finished zipping up his last bag, Bobby stuck his head through the door, wiry dark hair and all. He ambled into the room with a wave as Jax tipped his chin to him, but neither one really seemed to know what to say to the other.

What were they really supposed to say in a situation like this anyway?

Sorry your stepdad and club president made you feel like you didn't belong here. That really sucks. Have a nice life, brother.

Sorry I'm cutting my losses and making a run for it. Good luck picking up the pieces when the prez inevitably runs the club into the ground because of this cartel deal you guys never should've voted through. Peace out.

Yeah. None of that needed to be said out loud.

"Hey, Jax," Bobby pressed a pained smile to his face as he hooked a thumb over his shoulder. "Just so ya know, your mom's hovering outside in the hallway, waitin' for her turn to come in here and talk to you, but I beat her to the punch."

And with that, Bobby quickly shut the door behind him, probably to keep prying eyes and ears out of this dorm for as long as possible. Jax ran a hand over his face, dropping his eyes back down to the bed so he could survey the two boxes and the bag that still needed to be loaded up in his truck so he didn't look at that new patch stitched onto the front of Bobby's kutte.

"She'll get her turn," Bobby flashed him a quick grin. "But I wanted to sneak in here to find you while that was still somethin' I could do."

Jax's lips lifted wistfully as he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and rocked back on his heels for lack of anything better to do. And when he tipped his chin up to finally look Bobby in the eye, his focus narrowed in on that new vice president patch stitched onto Bobby's kutte. Pain splintered through him, running down every vein and limb, and he had to swallow hard to get a handle on himself.

This wasn't the place or the time. It was done anyway. He couldn't go back even if he wanted to. Pretty soon, he'd be sewing a new rocker on the side of his kutte - Jury had touched-base with him last night to let him know that rocker would be at the Indian Hills clubhouse early next week, which meant he was due for a check-in there anyway. As a nomad, that was something he'd just have to get used to. No more home base. No more suffocating clubhouse. No more gaslighting club president.