Page 66 of Colt
“Body memory.” Indira nodded. “Bea mentioned that at one of my sessions. Trauma can erase conscious memories, but the body holds onto things. The good and the bad.”
“Graham said we were happy. That Colt worshiped me.”
“From what I’ve seen, that hasn’t changed.” Indira turned onto her back, staring at the ceiling. “The question isn’t whether you can trust him, Lilac. The question is whether you want to.”
“What if I try and it goes wrong? What if he’s not who everyone says he is?”
“You have Betty, you have Graham, you have me and the whole damn club backing you up. If Colt ever reverted to who he was that first week, Dutch would handle it personally.” Her voice hardened. “But I don’t think he will. I’ve known Colt for years. That man at the grocery store? That wasn’t him. That was a broken man lashing out because he’d lost everything and didn’t know how to cope.”
I was quiet for a long moment, letting the massage work out the tension I’d been carrying for weeks.
“The boys called him Dad yesterday,” I said finally. “At school. Told their whole class.”
Indira smiled. “How did that make you feel?”
“Terrified.” I laughed softly. “And also… right.”
“Your boys are already halfway in love with their father. The only question is whether you’ll let yourself follow.”
I stared at the ceiling, Indira’s words echoing in my mind.
The only question is whether you’ll let yourself follow.
I didn’t have an answer yet.
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After the spa, we stopped for lunch at a café downtown. Betty had gone home—“I need a nap after all that relaxation,” she’d said, which made us both laugh—so it was just me and Indira.
“Can I ask you something personal?” I said, picking at my salad.
“Shoot.”
“What’s it actually like? Being an old lady?”
Indira set down her fork, considering the question seriously. “It’s not like the movies, if that’s what you’re asking. There’s no constant drama or danger. Mostly it’s… normal. Dutch runs his business, I run mine. We have dinner together, argue about whose turn it is to do dishes, watch too much Netflix.”
“But the club stuff—”
“Is part of it, yeah. There are runs, there are meetings, there are times when something serious goes down and I don’t know if he’s coming home.” Her eyes darkened briefly. “But that’s true of any relationship with a man who does a dangerous job. Lots of men have wives who worry.”
“And the other women? The club girls?”
“They exist. Some of the guys who aren’t in committed relationships, they have arrangements.” Indira shrugged. “But old ladies are different. We’re not just girlfriends, we’re family. The club protects us, respects us. Anyone who disrespects an old lady disrespects the whole MC.” She leaned forward. “Has anyone been disrespectful to you?”
“No. Everyone’s been—” I thought about it. “Careful, I guess. Watching to see what Colt and I are going to do.”
“They’re waiting to see if you’ll stick. If you’ll become one of us.” Indira reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “For what it’s worth, I’m hoping you will. Truth is, I already consider you one of us.” She squeezed my hand once before letting go. “We could use more women with backbones. And I could use a friend who isn’t terrified of Dutch.”
I laughed despite myself. “He is kind of intimidating.”
“He’s a teddy bear. Don’t tell him I said that.” She grinned. “But seriously, Lilac, if you have questions, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here. This life isn’t for everyone, but for the right people, it’s… home.”
Home. “I don’t know what home is anymore,” I admitted. “For seven years, it’s been Betty’s house. Me and the boys, trying to survive.”
“Maybe it’s time to figure out what it could be,” Indira said gently. “Not just surviving. Actually living.”
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