Ashes & Asphalt

Chapter Eleven — Where She Belongs

The final signature had barely dried when Taylor stepped out of the courthouse, the sunlight catching in her hair like it used to when she stood on the back lot of the compound with coffee in hand and Ghost teasing her from the porch.

But there was no teasing now. Just a quiet exhale. One that didn’t feel like freedom—but something heavier. A chapter closed, not forgotten.

Jax waited across the street, leaning against the black car he’d brought instead of his bike. He looked calm, hands in his jacket pockets, dark sunglasses hiding the eyes she knew held storms.

No words passed as she crossed the street. She didn’t need them. He opened the trunk, loaded her suitcase in one smooth motion, then opened the passenger door for her like they hadn’t ever fallen apart.

Like this was how it was always supposed to be.

They pulled onto the highway with only the low hum of tires on asphalt and soft music playing from the speakers. Something bluesy. The kind of song that lingered under your skin.

Taylor glanced at him, watching the way his hand rested on the gearshift, relaxed but always ready. He looked forward, eyes on the road like the past was still chasing them.

Maybe it was.

"That’s everything," she said softly, folding her hands in her lap.

Jax nodded. “You sure?”

She paused. “Yes.”

He waited a beat. “Good. Because there’s no going back, Taylor.”

His voice was steady—firm but not harsh.

“If something happens,” he continued, “if we burn again or bend or break—we face it. You don’t pack a bag and disappear. You don’t shut down. You stay.”

Taylor turned to the window, but not before he saw the way her lips trembled just slightly. “No running,” she echoed, just above a whisper.

Jax reached over and took her hand, his fingers rough but his grip gentle. “No running.”

They rode in silence after that. Not the kind that hurt. The kind that understood.

The compound was waiting. So was everything they’d left behind.

But this time, they were coming back together.

And Jax wasn’t letting her go.

The compound came into view as they turned off the highway and onto the gravel path that led to the gates. The familiar rumble of tires over loose stones, the distant sound of metal on metal from the garage, the faint trace of smoke curling from the chimney out back—it was all exactly the same.

And yet everything was different.

Jax felt Taylor’s stillness beside him. Her fingers had curled tighter around the seatbelt as they pulled closer. He didn’t need to look at her to know her breath had gone shallow. He could feel her unease the way he felt the weight of his own cut pressing into his spine.

When he killed the engine, she didn’t move at first.

He turned to her. “You okay?”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“You don’t have to pretend for me.”

She looked at him then, eyes soft but storming underneath. “I’m not. I’m just… not sure what I’m walking into.”

Jax opened his door. “You’re not walking in alone.”

By the time they made it up the front steps, the door opened on its own. Diesel stood there, arms crossed, a slow grin spreading across his face.

“Well, s**t,” he muttered. “She really came back.”

Taylor blinked at him. “Nice to see you too.”

Dani pushed past him, nearly knocking Diesel out of the way. She didn’t say anything, just wrapped Taylor up in a hug so tight it pushed the breath from both of them.

“I missed you, Sparkles,” Dani whispered into her hair.

Taylor closed her eyes, holding on longer than she expected.

When they pulled apart, Jax’s hand rested on the small of Taylor’s back, grounding her.

Inside, the compound was humming with low conversation. A few men lingered at the bar. Music drifted from the radio, easy and familiar. Kellan was seated at the far table, nodding once when their eyes met.

Taylor scanned the room slowly. No judgment. No whispers. Just quiet acknowledgment. Like she’d never left—or like everyone understood what it meant to come home different.

Jax leaned in close. “The room’s still the same.”

Taylor smiled faintly. “Which one?”

He didn’t answer. Just took her hand and led her down the hall. Past Ghost’s door. Past old memories.

Back to his.

Back to theirs.

The door clicked shut behind them, and the silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was familiar—like a held breath neither of them needed to release just yet.

Taylor walked in first, letting her fingers trail along the edge of the dresser like she was reacquainting herself with an old friend. Jax leaned against the doorframe, watching her with that unreadable look that only softened when it was just them.

Her suitcase landed on the bed with a soft thud. She knelt beside it, unzipping it slowly and pulling out folded clothes, placing them into the drawers like she didn’t want to draw attention to how little she brought with her.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything,” she said quietly. “Just the important things. Clothes. My skincare. Ghost’s jacket.”

Jax crossed the room, crouched beside her, and placed a hand over hers, stopping her from folding another shirt.

“We’re not picking things up where we left off, Taylor,” he said, his voice low and firm. “This isn’t about returning to something. We’re building something new.”

She looked at him then, brows pulled together like she wasn’t sure what he meant.

He let out a breath, brushing a knuckle along her cheek. “If that means you need new s**t, you’re getting it. All of it. Hell, I’ll drag you to a damn boutique myself. You want four different shades of the same lipstick? Done. You want a closet that makes Dani jealous? I’ll build it. You don’t need to live light anymore. Not here. Not with me.”

Taylor blinked at him, then laughed softly—caught between disbelief and emotion. “You’re not building me a closet, Jax.”

“The hell I’m not,” he murmured. “If it means you don’t ever feel like you’ve got one foot out the door, I’ll build a f*****g wing.”

She reached out, touched the front of his shirt, curled her fingers in the fabric. “You know I never needed the stuff, right?”

“I know,” he said, catching her hand in his and lifting it to kiss her knuckles. “But I want you to have it anyway. Because you’re not temporary. Not anymore.”

She stared at him, eyes glassy, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. And for a while, they stayed like that—kneeling on the floor of the room that once held their fire and now promised something steadier. Deeper.

Home.

Later, after she’d put the last of her things away, they sat on the edge of the bed—quiet again. Not in avoidance, but in weight. The kind that came with returning to a life she’d walked away from, only to find it still waiting for her.

Taylor tucked her legs underneath her, Jax beside her with one arm slung loosely around her back. She stared ahead at the dresser, at the familiar scent of leather and wood in the room that hadn’t changed.

“It’s strange,” she said finally. “Being back.”

Jax didn’t say anything. He didn’t press.

“I thought I’d feel like an outsider. Like too much time passed and I couldn’t fit in anymore. That maybe I had changed too much.”

He glanced at her then, waiting.

“But this place…” she paused, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “It still feels like mine. Not in the way it did before, when I was trying to prove something. It feels like mine because of the people. Because of you.”

She looked over at him, eyes searching. “But that scares me too. Because it means this still has the power to destroy me if I lose it again.”

Jax leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“No,” he agreed. “But I know what I’ll do to keep it from happening. And I know I’m not alone in that.”

Her mouth twisted into a small, worn smile.

“I keep seeing Ghost,” she admitted quietly. “Little things. Corners. Music. Sometimes I hear his laugh in the hallway. It used to haunt me. Now it just… lives with me.”

Jax turned to face her fully then. “He lives with me too.”

Taylor nodded, her voice dipping low. “I think that’s the part that makes this place feel like home again. Not because we forgot him. But because he’s in every piece of it.”

Jax’s throat worked around a tight swallow. He reached for her hand, their fingers intertwining without effort.

“You’re not alone, Taylor. Not now. Not again.”

And with her hand held tightly in his, she believed him.

Even if part of her still held pieces of grief inside her chest, she believed him.

The sun dipped low when Taylor finally stood up from the bed, tugging one of Jax’s sweatshirts over her tank top. Her fingers fidgeted at the hem.

“Will you come with me?” she asked.

Jax looked up from his phone where he'd been clearing messages. He knew what she meant before she clarified.

“Just… around the compound. I don’t want to be out there alone yet.”

He stood without a word, grabbing her hand.

They walked to the kitchen side by side. The halls were quieter than usual, but not empty. A few heads turned. Conversations dropped a little lower when she passed. Taylor kept her chin lifted, but her hand tightened around Jax’s. He didn’t let go. Not once.

In the kitchen, she found her rhythm in chopping vegetables while Jax handled the meat. The motions helped ease some of the tension in her shoulders. The smells, the clatter of pans, the steady rhythm of shared space—it helped.

Kellan strolled in, grabbing a water from the fridge. He leaned against the counter, sipping slowly while watching them work. He hadn’t said a word, but his gaze was steady. Curious.

Jax didn’t miss it. He caught the flick of Kellan’s eyes—how they watched Taylor with something deeper than skepticism. He was studying her. Trying to piece together the woman everyone whispered about.

Taylor caught the look too. She glanced at Jax, who gave a slight nod.

“It’s okay,” he murmured just for her. “Let him look. He’ll figure you out in his own time.”

She gave him a half-smile. “You trust him?”

“With my life,” Jax said simply.

Taylor didn’t say anything to that, but something in her shoulders eased.

Dinner came together easily. When a few of the others came into the kitchen to grab plates or pass through, Taylor held herself close to Jax. She wasn’t ready to move through the compound on her own—not yet. But she’d made it into the kitchen. That was a start.

And when Kellan walked out without a word, but with one final glance toward her, Jax knew what it meant.

He’s good.

She’s safe.

Later, as they sat down to eat at the small table in the corner, Taylor looked across at Jax with something soft in her eyes.

“You really did build a family here.”

He nodded once. “Yeah. And it’s yours too. You just need time to feel it again.”

She took a bite of food and whispered, “I think I’m starting to.”

They ate in easy quiet, Taylor’s appetite slowly returning with every bite. Jax didn’t say much, just watched her—watched how the light returned to her face in small pieces, how her shoulders no longer curled inward quite so tightly.

Halfway through the meal, boots echoed in the hallway. Mason stepped in, pausing just long enough to register them sitting together.

“Well, look at this,” he said with a smirk. “Didn’t think I’d see you two in the kitchen unless it was burning down.”

Taylor smiled faintly, fork poised mid-air. “Give us some credit.”

“Not much,” Mason shot back, then leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. His expression shifted—still casual, but with purpose. “So… we celebrating or what?”

Jax raised a brow. “Celebrating what?”

Mason nodded toward Taylor. “Her coming back. You don’t just let someone like her walk through the doors and act like it’s Tuesday. This deserves a night. Small one. Nothing crazy. Just… normal. That’s what we do, right? We celebrate when family comes home.”

Taylor froze for a beat. The word hit somewhere deep. Home.

Jax didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze flicked from Mason to Taylor. Her eyes dropped to her plate, soft and uncertain. But she didn’t flinch. That was something.

“We’ll think about it,” Jax said finally.

Mason gave him a look, then tipped his chin toward Taylor. “Let her think about it too.”

Then he left, his boots trailing away down the hall.

Taylor glanced at Jax, an unsure smile tugging at her lips. “He’s got a point.”

Jax leaned back in his chair, arms folded as he watched her. “You tell me when you’re ready. We’ll celebrate however you want.”

She nodded once, quietly. Then reached for her glass.

They didn’t toast. But for the first time in a long time, dinner felt less like survival and more like living.