Page 50 of Colt
“I’d die for you.” The words came out simple, true. “I’d do anything to keep you safe. Both of you, and your mama.”
Mama.I hadn’t meant to say it like that—like she was mine to claim, like we were already a unit. We were still in the fragilestage where they called me “Colt” and I didn’t push for more. But it was out now.
We sat like that until Handful appeared in the doorway, took one look at us, and silently retreated. When Lilac arrived to pick them up an hour later, both boys had tear-streaked faces and refused to let go of my hands.
“What happened?” she asked, alarm in her voice.
“Luca had a nightmare,” I said. “We talked it out. They’re okay.”
She looked at me—really looked—and her expression softened. “Thank you.”
“Always.”
That night, after the boys were home and I was alone in my room at the clubhouse, I broke down. Sobbed like I hadn’t since the night I’d sat alone in our empty house and let myself believe she’d chosen to leave.
My sons had been having nightmares about their mother’s attack for God knows how long. They’d been carrying that fear alone, trying to protect her, being strong when they should have been allowed to just be kids.
I couldn’t undo the past seven years. Couldn’t take away the trauma they’d already experienced. But I damn well would be there for every nightmare from now on.
Chapter 18
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— Lilac —
The nightmare at the clubhouse changed everything. Hearing about Luca waking up crying, clinging to Colt like his life depended on it—and later, watching Knox refuse to talk about his own bad dreams—I knew we needed more than love and patience.
These boys had been through trauma. Real, lasting trauma that they’d absorbed from living with me.
They’d grown up with a mama haunted by something she couldn’t name or explain. They’d heard her nightmares through thin walls, felt her flinch at nothing, sensed the shape of a fear she’d never been able to put into words. And somehow they’d built a story out of it—a man hurting their mama, visiting them in the dark, playing out in their dreams like something inherited. Something that had happened before they were even born.
Betty noticed me researching child therapists on my phone two days later.
“There’s someone you should call,” she said, settling into the kitchen chair across from me. “A friend of Indira’s. She’s a therapist who specializes in trauma, and she has experience with… unconventional family situations.”
“Unconventional meaning MC families?”
“Yes. She’s worked with MC families before. She understands the world.” Betty slid a business card across the table. “Her name is Beatrice Hardy. Goes by Bea. Dutch brought her in a fewyears back to help one of the brothers through some rough stuff. She’s been part of the extended family ever since.”
I picked up the card, studying the elegant script.Dr. Beatrice Hardy, LMFT. Trauma-Informed Therapy.
“How does Indira know her?”
“She’s been seeing Bea for a while now. Indira and Dutch came from very different worlds, and even though she’s fully committed to that life now, it took time. Learning what it means to be part of an MC—the loyalty, the risk, the things you don’t ask about and the things you have to live with—that’s not nothing. Bea helped her work through the adjustment.” Betty reached over and squeezed my hand. “She’s good, Lilac. Really good. And she’ll understand the world those boys are growing up in.”
I set down the card. “How do you know so much about the Venom Riders?”
Betty smiled as she wrapped her hands around her mug. “I know this world from the inside, Lilac. What it costs. What it gives back. You don’t lose a man to it and walk away without understanding exactly what it is.”
“And the Venom Riders specifically?”
“Once I understood who Colt was, I made it my business to know.” Her eyes met mine, steady. “I’ve been doing this for seven years, Lilac. Keeping you safe. Keeping those boys safe. I wasn’t about to stop paying attention just because circumstances changed.”
“Betty—”
“Don’t.” She squeezed my hand. “It’s what I do. Now call that number.”
I was still at the kitchen table when Colt came in after reading the boys a bedtime story, something he’d been doing a lot lately.
