Page 25 of Colt
“Lilac.” I stopped a few feet away from her, keeping my distance. “I don’t know where to start.”
“How about with an apology?” Her voice was steady, but I could see her hands trembling. “For terrorizing me and my children. For the things you said. The names you called me.”
“I am sorry.” The words felt inadequate, pathetically small against the weight of what I’d done. “I’m so goddamn sorry. There’s no excuse for how I treated you. None.”
“You’re right. There isn’t.”
“I know that.” I took a breath, fighting the urge to move closer. “I spent seven years believing a lie. That you’d cheated, that you’d stolen from me, that you ran off without a word. That you couldn’t even be bothered to stay to try to work things out or even just to say goodbye. When I saw you again…” I shook my head. “All that anger came rushing back. I wasn’t thinking. I was just… reacting.”
“Reacting by telling me I’d gotten knocked up by some prick and couldn’t face you? By cornering me on a public street with your friends?”
“Yeah.” I didn’t try to defend it. Couldn’t. “I was wrong. Every time I opened my mouth, every cruel thing I said, I was wrong. And I’m sorry.”
Lilac was quiet for a long moment, studying me with those brown eyes I’d never forgotten. I wondered what she saw. The man who’d hurt her? Or something else underneath?
“Graham told me about before,” she said finally. “About who we were together.”
“What did he say?”
“That you were different with me. Gentle. Patient.” She tilted her head slightly. “I’m having trouble reconciling that with the man who grabbed me on the street.”
“I’m not asking you to reconcile anything.” I took a careful step forward, then stopped when I saw her tense. “I’m not asking you to forgive me or trust me or feel anything at all. I just want… I want a chance to show you I’m not that person. That the man you saw this week isn’t who I really am.”
She tilted her head. “How do you plan to do that?”
“However you’ll let me.” I spread my hands, trying to show I wasn’t a threat. “If you want me to stay away, I’ll stay away. If you want supervised visits with the boys, I’ll take whatever you’re willing to give. I’m not here to demand anything, Lilac. I’m here to ask. To beg, if that’s what it takes.”
Her expression changed. “The boys don’t know you’re their father,” she said. “I never told them because I didn’t know myself. Didn’t remember.”
“I understand.”
“They’re scared of you. Especially after what happened at the school.” Her voice hardened. “Luca cried himself to sleep that night. Kept asking why the bad man was so mean to me.”
I’d made my son cry. My son, who’d been brave enough to stand up to a biker to protect his mother.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “I’ll spend the rest of my life being sorry for that.”
Lilac watched me for another long moment. Then, slowly, she unclenched her hands. “You can meet them,” she said. “Properly. But not today. I need to prepare them first, explain that you’re… that you’re going to be around. And it has to be supervised. Betty or me, always present.”
I nodded. “Whatever you need.”
“And if you scare them again—if you raise your voice, if you grab me, if you do anything that makes them feel unsafe—”
“I’m gone,” I finished. “I understand. I won’t give you any reason to send me away.”
Lilac nodded slowly. “And the gang.” Her voice had gone careful again. “The motorbikes. The vests. Whatever it is you do. I don’t want my boys anywhere near any of it.”
“It’s not a—”
Indira’s hand came up. Flat. Unhurried. She didn’t even look at me.
I stopped.
She turned to face Lilac, her voice measured. “They’re an MC. A motorcycle club. Not a gang—though I understand why it doesn’t look that different from the outside.” She glanced toward me, gesturing at my cut. “That’s called a cut, not a vest. Every member wears one. It means something inside the club.” She turned back to Lilac. “I’ll tell you something about myself. I’m from a very conservative family. When my parents found out I was dating Dutch—not just a biker, but the president of the club—they were aghast. Genuinely horrified. They had every assumption you’re having right now, and they were not quiet about it.”
Lilac said nothing. But she was listening.
“He won them over,” Indira said. “Not by hiding who he was. By showing them who he actually was.” She let it settle. “I’m not here to tell you the club is perfect. The men can act like overgrown children sometimes—I say that with full love and zero illusions. I’m not asking you to be comfortable with something you’re not comfortable with. But it isn’t what you’re picturing right now, and your boys won’t be harmed by it.”
