Page 11 of Colt
“I meant you.”
I gasped, gripping the porch railing as the vision faded.
That voice. That laugh. I knew them, the way you know a song you haven’t heard in years—familiar but just out of reach. And I knew, too, the feeling of those large hands cupping my face, gentle despite their roughness.
That was him. That wasColt.
Not the angry stranger from the grocery store, but… someone else. Someone who’d called me Lil and thought I was the best view in the world.
The tears came without warning. I was crying for a man I couldn’t remember, for a life I’d lost without ever knowing I had it. For whatever had happened that night seven years ago that had stolen everything from me—my memories, my husband, my sons’ father.
“Mama?”
I turned to find Knox in the doorway, pajama-clad and sleepy-eyed.
“What are you doing up, baby?”
“I heard you crying.” He padded across the porch and climbed into my lap, even though he was really getting too big for it. “Are you still sad about that man at the store?”
I wrapped my arms around him and pressed my face into his hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo. “A little bit,” I admitted.
“Luca says he was a bad man. Only bad men yell at mamas.”
“Luca’s protective of me. Like you’re protective of him.”
Knox was quiet for a moment. “He looked sad.”
I pulled back to look at my son’s face. “What?”
“The man. He was angry, but underneath he looked sad. Like when Luca pretends he’s not upset about something.” Knox tilted his head, considering. “Maybe he’s not a bad man. Maybe he’s just sad.”
I hugged Knox tighter and didn’t answer.
He was right though. Colt hadn’t just been angry at the grocery store. He’d been heartbroken. But why? What did I do?
Chapter 5
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— Colt —
Four days after seeing Lilac at the grocery store, I spotted her again. This time she was coming out of the elementary school, both boys in tow. Must have been picking them up—school had just let out, and the sidewalk was crawling with kids and parents. She was wearing jeans and a simple blue blouse, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, looking so goddamn normal it made my teeth ache.
I wasn’t alone this time. Dutch had called for a ride through town—showing presence, he called it. Reminding Millfield that the Venom Riders were here and we weren’t going anywhere. Holden, Handful, Glitch, a few others had come along, all of us rolling through downtown on our bikes like a parade of leather and chrome.
We’d stopped at a red light when I saw her.
“Colt.” Dutch’s voice was low, warning. He’d followed my gaze. “Don’t.”
But I was already off my bike, helmet discarded on the seat, stalking across the street toward her. I heard boots behind me—my brothers, falling in. They had my back.
Not really surprising that Lilac saw us coming. Her face went white, and she pulled the boys closer, positioning herself between them and me. Like I was the threat. Like I was the monster in this story.
“We need to talk,” I said, stopping a few feet away. Close enough to smell that vanilla perfume—seven years and it still hit the same way.
That smell. It still hit the same way—the memory firing before I could stop it: her skin warm from sleep, the vanilla mixed with something darker underneath, her mouth already at my ear before I was fully awake. Her hand sliding under the covers, finding me, completely unapologetic about what she was after.
“I want you,” she’d said, already moving against me. Not asking.
