Ashes & Asphalt

Chapter Fifteen - Foundations & Firewalls

The silence of the morning was broken only by the crunch of gravel under their boots.

Jax stood still in front of the house — the one that carried the weight of memories in every stone, every nail. His childhood home. His legacy. The place he and Elias once hammered into something solid when the world gave them nothing else.

Now it would be something more.

“You sure about this?” Kellan asked, not judgmental, just quiet. Respectful. That’s why Jax trusted him to be here.

“Yeah,” Jax said simply. “This place was always meant for something more than ghosts.”

Kellan walked the perimeter with him, both of them noting structural weak points, ways in and out, places they could reinforce. The front porch would be rebuilt. They’d add motion lighting along the fence line. Jax wanted glass that couldn’t be shot through, steel framing beneath the windows, secure entry points, emergency systems hardwired straight to the club.

Taylor wouldn’t just live here — she’d breathe here. Sleep without fear. Raise their kids without looking over her shoulder. That was the plan.

Kellan nodded at the blueprint sketches they spread across the hood of the truck. “This kind of security… it’s not just for protection. This is about peace of mind.”

Jax lit a cigarette and leaned against the truck. “She deserves that. After everything she’s been through. After Ghost…” His voice caught, just for a second. “This place needs to be untouchable.”

“We’ll make it happen,” Kellan said without hesitation. “And when it’s done?”

“When it’s done,” Jax said, looking toward the horizon like he could already see Taylor there, barefoot on the porch, coffee mug in hand, a little bit of sun in her smile again, “she’ll come home.”

And this time, she’d never have to run again.

Kellan followed Jax up the cracked porch steps, bootfalls heavy, steady. They were the same steps Jax had raced up as a boy, the same boards he and Elias had reinforced with borrowed tools and scraped money. But now? They’d be ripped out, rebuilt. Nothing would creak under Taylor’s feet. Not in the home he meant for her.

“We’ll start with the perimeter,” Jax said, scanning the lot. “Security cameras on every corner. Infrared motion sensors. And the back fence? Reinforced steel underneath the wood. Looks normal, but nothing’s getting through.”

Kellan nodded. “I’ve got a guy for the tech. Quiet. Reliable. Worked for the military before he got tired of answering to idiots.”

“Good,” Jax replied. “I want eyes everywhere.”

They moved inside. Dust filtered through the sunbeams slicing in through the old windows. The living room still held the faint echo of old laughter — Elias’s boots stomping in after a job, Taylor’s soft giggles from that one weekend when everything had still felt whole.

Jax stopped in the center of the room, shoulders squared. “We knock down that back wall. Open up the kitchen. I want her to see the garden from the stove. Add skylights. Let it feel like light actually lives here.”

Kellan scribbled notes. “You’re building her a future, not just a house.”

Jax looked up, jaw tight. “No more running. No more in-between. I want her to have everything. Space. Security. Peace.”

They moved into the hallway. “Guest room’ll go here. For Dani or whoever needs to crash. Office in the back for her. She wants to work again, she will.”

“And a nursery?” Kellan asked, careful.

Jax exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Eventually. It’ll go where the old guest room was. She’ll fill this place. With warmth. With life. I’m not dragging her into darkness again.”

Kellan smirked. “You sound like a man who knows what he wants.”

Jax’s voice was low, steady. “I’ve always known. It just took me a while to stop pushing it away.”

They stepped back out into the sunlight, back into the stillness. But something was already shifting. The blueprints weren’t just on paper anymore — they were forming in his head, in his chest.

Every brick. Every beam. Every breath of it would be hers.

And when it was done?

It wouldn’t just be a house.

It would be their beginning.

Back at the compound, the sun had dipped low enough to cast long shadows across the gravel lot. The party noise was distant, dull — like it belonged to another world. Jax didn’t waste a second. He headed straight for the office, Kellan on his heels, the quiet between them charged with purpose.

The moment they stepped inside, Jax shut the door behind them. The room was utilitarian: dark walls, a large desk, and a wall covered in pinned maps, contact lists, and rotating crew schedules. Jax flicked the overhead light on and pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the drawer.

“We do this right,” he said, dropping into his chair. “No shortcuts. No ‘good enoughs.’ I want that house locked down tighter than the damn compound.”

Kellan leaned against the desk, arms crossed, his gaze sharp. “Then I’ll need full access to your old floorplans. I want to strip everything down to the studs—get the electrical clean, line the insulation with Kevlar, reinforce the doorframes. Safehouse-grade. If we’re building for a future, we build like it matters.”

Jax gave a grim nod. “Budget’s not an issue. Use club funds for the structural. I’ll pay out-of-pocket for anything else.”

“Alright,” Kellan said. “We’ll start with fencing and surveillance. Get my tech guy out there by Friday. I’ll handle the contracts, oversee the labor, make sure it’s men we can trust.”

Jax slid a file across the desk — blueprints from years back, yellowed and faded. “Everything I’ve got. It’s not perfect, but it’s a start.”

Kellan opened it and studied it in silence for a long moment. “You’re doing more than rebuilding a house.”

Jax looked up. “Yeah.”

“You’re building your line in the sand.”

The silence settled, weighted and mutual.

Then Kellan smirked. “I’ll have it done in two months.”

Jax let the corner of his mouth twitch. “Make it six weeks.”

“Then you’d better clear out your schedule. This won’t just be me with a hammer and duct tape. You’re working this with me.”

Jax leaned back, gaze narrowing with focus. “Good. I want to be in every nail that goes into those walls.”

Together, they began sketching out the full scope — schedules, supply runs, trusted contractors, secure drop locations, surveillance coverage. Piece by piece, the dream started to take form. Not a house, not a fantasy.

A fortress built on memory. Reinforced by purpose. And designed for the only woman he’d ever lay everything on the line for.

Taylor sat cross-legged on the bed, one of Jax’s hoodies wrapped around her like armor, still slightly oversized on her frame. She looked peaceful, barefoot, flipping through an old magazine with zero interest. Just waiting for him to walk through the door.

He did — boots heavy, jacket slung over his shoulder, eyes already locked on her.

She smiled, soft and knowing. “You’ve been gone all day.”

“Had to sort things,” Jax said, setting the jacket down on the chair. “Kellan and I scoped the house.”

Her smile faded just slightly. “Your childhood home?”

“Yeah.” He sat beside her, close but not touching yet. He didn’t want to ease into this—he wanted to be clear. “It’s gonna be ours.”

Taylor tilted her head. “Ours?”

Jax nodded. “I’m not asking. It’s where we’re going. I’ve already started the process. Kellan’s got the security side handled. I’ll be on-site most days. Once it’s ready, we move in.”

There was no pause. No searching her face for approval. He laid it out plainly. Like a man who knew what he wanted.

She looked at him, equal parts breathless and stunned. “You really want that?”

“I want you there,” he said. “And I want you safe. I don’t want to raise our kids in the compound. That place will always be business. But the house—it’s private. It was mine before all of this, and it’ll be ours now.”

She stared at him like she was trying to memorize this moment.

Jax reached out and traced a line down her bare thigh. “So yeah, that’s the next thing. When the house is ready, I want to start on the future. On a family.”

Taylor’s breath hitched. “Kids?”

He met her gaze evenly. “Yeah. I want to build something that lasts. We’ve burned through enough. It’s time we grow something that can’t be taken from us.”

Silence stretched. Not awkward. Not heavy. Just full.

Then Taylor nodded slowly, eyes soft but sure. “Then I guess I better start picturing the nursery.”

Jax smiled, and it was the kind that cracked something open in his chest. He reached for her hand, pulled her gently into his lap.

“There’s a lot I want to give you, Tay. That house is just the start.”

Taylor kissed him like she was picking up right where they'd left off—months ago, before everything shattered. Before she ran and left him clinging to memories that tasted like fire and grief.

Jax let her guide him back toward the bed, her fingers dragging his shirt over his head. “I still think about you,” she whispered, voice low, breath catching as she looked up at him, “that day in your office… when I dropped to my knees. You never said a word, but you looked at me like I ruined you.”

His eyes darkened, jaw flexing. “You did.”

She smiled, but there was no smugness in it—only need. She slid down slowly, knees brushing the floor. No hesitation. No questions.

Jax leaned back against the edge of the bed, his hand burying into her hair as she took her time. She didn’t need to rush. Every slow flick of her tongue was a memory reclaimed, every breathless sound from him a piece of the wall between them, crumbling.

When he finally lost control, her name left his mouth low and hoarse. But she wasn’t done—not yet.

She climbed back into his lap, breath warm against his neck. “I remember everything about you, Jax Maddox. Even when I tried not to.”

“You think I ever forgot?” he rasped, flipping her beneath him like instinct. “You think I didn’t see you every night I closed my eyes?”

Clothes disappeared in rushed tugs and quiet curses. Her hands roamed his back as he pushed inside her, rough and claiming, the way only he ever did. No one had ever known her like this. And he never let anyone in this deep. Not until her.

They moved in sync—like coming undone together was the only way to remember they were still alive.

By the time they lay tangled in the sheets, breath unsteady and bodies flushed, Jax pulled her into his chest and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“This time,” he murmured, voice low and fierce, “you stay.”