Page 67 of Colt
When I got back to Betty’s, there was a motorcycle in the driveway.
Not Colt’s—he’d been driving his truck lately, in case he needed to take the boys somewhere, and it was right there in the driveway. I felt a spike of unease as I walked up the porch steps.
The front door opened before I could reach for the handle. A man stood there—tall, lean, with sharp features and dark hair shot through with silver at the temples, longer than you’d expect on someone in a cut. He looked younger than the gray suggested. The kind of face that was always slightly watchful, like he was running calculations behind his eyes. I recognized him from the school parking lot. One of Colt’s brothers.
“Mrs. Spencer.” He stepped back to let me in. “I’m Glitch. I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute.”
Spencer. Colt’s last name. Not mine—not for seven years. I didn’t correct him.
Betty appeared in the hallway, drying her hands on a dish towel. “It’s alright, dear. He’s been very polite. The boys are in the backyard with Colt.”
I looked at Glitch. He seemed nervous, which was strange for a man who was part of an MC.
“Okay,” I said slowly. “Talk.”
“Maybe we could sit?” He gestured toward the living room. “This might take a minute.”
We sat—me on the couch, him on the chair opposite. Betty hovered in the doorway for a moment before deciding to give us privacy, retreating to the kitchen.
“I owe you an apology,” Glitch said without preamble. “A real one. Not just ‘sorry we scared you’—an actual, take-responsibility apology.”
I waited.
“That first night, at the clubhouse, when Colt found out you were in town…” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I offered to make your life hell. Ruin your credit, drain your bank accounts, mess with your records. I was ready to destroy you without even meeting you, just because Colt was hurting.”
My stomach clenched. I hadn’t known that. Hadn’t known how close they’d come to—
“I didn’t do it,” he added quickly. “But the fact that I offered… that’s on me. I was so focused on loyalty to my brother that I didn’t stop to think about whether he was right.”
“But you did stop. At the school.” I remembered that moment—the way his voice had cut through the rage, the way he’d looked at me and seen something the others hadn’t.
“Yeah.” He met my eyes. “I watched you, and I saw someone who was genuinely terrified. Not guilty, not manipulative—scared. And something clicked. I knew—I knew—that we were wrong about you.”
“Betty said you uncovered the truth.”
“I dug until I found it. The forged divorce papers, the pregnancy records, all of it.” His expression darkened. “What Death’s Head did to you—what they let Colt believe—it was evil. Pure evil. And I almost helped Colt continue their work.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. But I could have.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “I’m good at what I do, Mrs. Spen—” He stopped. “Sorry. James. You go by James.”
“Lilac is fine,” I said. “But yes. James.”
He nodded slowly, and for a moment he didn’t say anything. “That’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about. You know your signature on the divorce papers was forged. Technically, there was no divorce.” He held my gaze. “You’re still Colt’s wife. Still legally a Spencer.”
The room was very quiet.
“I’ve been Lilac James for seven years,” I said.
“I know. But, I can scrub every trace of the fraudulent paperwork.” He paused. “Or I leave it as is. Either way, it’s your call.” He let that land, then went on. “I’m good at what I do. Really good. I could have destroyed your life before anyone knew to stop me. And I would have done it without hesitation, because I trusted my brother’s pain over my own judgment.”
I was quiet for a moment, processing this. He was right—he could have ruined me. The Lilac of a few months ago, struggling to make ends meet, raising two boys alone, wouldn’t have survived that kind of attack.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You deserve to know. And because—” He hesitated. “I want to start fresh. If you’re going to be part of this family, you should know who we are. The good and the bad. And I’m asking you to forgive me for the bad.”
I studied his face. He seemed sincere—genuinely remorseful in a way that surprised me. I’d expected the MC men to be hard, unapologetic. Not… this.
