Leo smiled faintly. His father had said nearly the same words years earlier, when he took Leo around the workshop lot at walking speed and made him hold on to the back of his jacket. He remembered the smell of gasoline, the muffled vibration through his shoes, and Patrick's patient explanation that balance was something two people had to agree about.
The rider helped him adjust the helmet. Sully had already checked the straps on the Road King and warned Leo where to place his hands without pressing against his bandaged shoulder. He was more cautious than his intimidating appearance suggested. Leo suspected the man had received an earful from Teresa Vale about riding injured, and the suspicion made him feel strangely better.
'You ready?' Sully asked.
Leo looked back at the station. The old Sinclair sign swayed against the sky, and the garage door stood half open. He remembered how many nights he had spent listening for a vehicle that might carry Hank down that road. Now the road was crowded with people willing to travel beside him.
'I think so,' he answered.
Sully started the Road King. Around them, other engines came alive in waves, each note adding to a rumble that rose from the ground and settled in Leo's chest. The motorcycles pulled away in orderly groups, leaving space for the first riders to reach the highway before the next rows moved. When Sully eased the bike forward, Leo held on carefully and watched the station grow smaller in the mirror.
Dust followed them down the access road. The silver Dodge remained beside the pumps, no longer a threat on wheels. Hank had disappeared from sight. Leo understood that the man still existed somewhere beyond the horizon and that tomorrow might bring questions, officials, forms, and difficult memories. But for this stretch of road, nobody was forcing him backward.
They reached a small medical clinic near Kingman before continuing farther south. Martin spoke to the nurse at the desk, explaining that a minor had been found injured and dehydrated and that a report had already been requested. Leo was examined by a physician who confirmed that his ribs were healing but still vulnerable, that he was undernourished, and that the injuries to his face required attention. The doctor asked questions about the older bruises without pressing for details Leo was not ready to give.
When the nurse asked who should be listed as his emergency contact, Leo stared at the blank line on the form. Sully sat beside him, hands folded between his knees. The silence lasted long enough for the nurse to look up.
'Is there someone you trust?' she asked gently.
Leo looked at the big man in the leather vest. 'Can I put his number?'
Sully's face changed. He nodded once. 'You can.'
The nurse wrote Jack Sullivan on the form and asked him to spell the surname. It was an ordinary moment, but Leo felt it as something larger. For years, every form concerning his life had been filled out by people who rarely asked what he wanted. This time, someone had asked him to choose.