Page 22 of Colt
“Why would they lie about something like that?”
Graham’s expression darkened. “To cover up what really happened that night. The night you were hurt.”
I felt the familiar wall go up in my mind—the one that protected me from the black hole where my memories should be. “I don’t want to know.”
“Are you sure?” Graham studied my face. “I can tell you. All of it. What happened, who did it, why they covered it up. You have a right to know.”
I thought about it. Really thought about it, for the first time in years.
Did I want to know what had put me in a coma? Did I want to know what violence had been done to my body, what trauma my mind had mercifully blocked out?
“No.” The word came out steady, certain. “Whatever happened that night… my mind protected me from it for a reason. I don’t need those memories. I don’t want them.”
Graham nodded slowly. “I understand.”
“But I do want to know about… before.” I twisted my hands in my lap. “About Colt. About who we were together. Was I—” I had to force the words out. “Was I like them? Cold and cruel? Part of that gang mentality?”
“God, no.” Graham’s response was immediate, almost fierce. “Lilac, you were the sweetest person I ever met. You’d bring food to the clubhouse for everyone, remember the prospects’ names when half the patched members couldn’t be bothered. You were kind to me when nobody else was.”
I felt tears prick my eyes. “Then why did I marry someone who could be so… so hateful?”
“He wasn’t. Not to you, not ever.” Graham’s voice softened. “I was there, Lilac. I saw you two together. Colt worshiped the ground you walked on. His whole face would light up when you walked into a room. He’d talk about buying a house, starting a family, growing old together.”
I tried to reconcile this with the man I’d seen at the grocery store. The man who’d cornered me outside the school with hatred burning in his eyes.
“He was different with you,” Graham continued. “Gentle. Patient. He’d do anything you asked without question. The other guys used to tease him about it—called him whipped, said you’d made him soft. He didn’t care. He’d just smile and say you were worth it.”
“What changed?” I whispered.
“He was lied to. His own brothers—men he trusted with his life—told him you’d been cheating. That you’d stolen from him and run off. They forged your signature on divorce papers while you were in a coma. He had no reason not to believe them.”
“So for seven years, he thought…”
“That you’d destroyed him. That everything you’d shared was a lie.” Graham met my eyes. “And then he saw you here. The woman he’d first loved and then hated for seven years, standing there with two kids, pretending not to know him. Can you imagine what that must have felt like?”
I could. That was the terrible thing—I could imagine it. If I’d spent seven years believing someone had betrayed me, and then they showed up acting like I was a stranger…
“It doesn’t excuse what he did,” I said.
“No. It doesn’t.” Graham agreed. “But maybe it explains it. And maybe…” He hesitated. “He’s not the monster you think he is. He’s just a man who was broken by a lie, the same way you were broken by what happened that night.”
We sat in silence for a long moment. I could hear the boys upstairs, the thump of footsteps as they moved around their room. My sons.Hissons.Oursons.
“He knows about the boys,” Betty said. “That they’re his.”
“What did he say?” My voice cracked.
“He fell apart.” Graham’s voice was rough with emotion. “He’s devastated, Lilac. Years of their lives, gone. And he can never get that back.”
Something broke inside me. I thought about Luca and Knox—about bedtime stories and scraped knees and first days of school. Knox’s first word. Luca’s first step. Every birthday, every Halloween, every Christmas morning. All the moments that made up a childhood.
Colt had missed every single one. Because of a lie.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Betty and Graham exchanged a look.
“That’s up to you,” Betty said. “He wants to see you. To apologize, to meet the boys properly. But only if you’re willing.”
