4. Ivy
FOUR
IVY
I wake in a cold sweat, the last vestiges of the nightmare stamped on my brain. Choking panic stops my breaths before they rush out of me in shaky pants.
The dream was the worst I’ve ever had. Rigors wrack my body as adrenaline dumps through my veins. He was holding me down, shoving his way into my body, laughing at my pain.
It was so real, I could feel my body tear around him. The fierce fire burning between my legs is an imprint of memory, not a physical injury.
I’m alive and I’m safe.
I stare up at the ceiling and drag in a lungful of air. He’s never going to stop tormenting me. He’s not even here, and I’m a mess.
Slowly, I sit up in bed and glance towards the cot. Seren isn’t awake yet, and I’m grateful. I need a second to just… be , and to plant my feet firmly on the ground.
He can’t hurt me.
There are people in my life who will stand between me and my demons—people like Mace, my sister…
And Riot.
Fuck me.
Needing a distraction, I reach for my phone and check my notifications. There are messages in the group chat between me, Dayna, and Katie, and a rare slither of happiness spreads through me.
They didn’t leave me behind when I was deep in the pit with Link, but even they don’t know the ways I was shredded and left bleeding in the dirt.
I scan their conversation. They’re complaining about work, men, and shitty hair products that cost the earth and don’t work. It’s so normal, the kind of shit we would have talked about in the past, but that version of me is dead.
I’m a fucking freak. My broken pieces have been glued back together, but there’s no hiding the cracks left behind. Like a frayed wire, I’m disconnected from the circuit I used to belong to.
I shut the phone off, exhausted down to my bones, and head to the bathroom.
I feel nothing and too much at the same time. Every nerve is raw, exposed, and screaming beneath my skin.
I turn the shower on. The sound of the water tapping against the tray drips in time with the seconds I can’t seem to move through. It echoes in the silence, like it’s coming from somewhere far out of my reach.
I force myself under the spray and close the shower door behind me, automatically grabbing the soap.
I rub it into my skin as the water heats my tired body. The first pass doesn’t soothe me like I expect, so I lather my hands again.
I rub harder, deeper, like I can reach the muscle and veins below my skin, but I can still feel his touch on me, still sense the dirt even though I can’t see it.
This isn’t working. It isn’t enough.
My chest heaves like drawing a breath—something I’ve done my entire life—is suddenly impossible, and I snatch the exfoliating brush from the hook next to my head.
Then, I scrub. Every part of my body is scoured until flames lick down my arms and legs.
Pink tinges the water as it swirls down the drain, and pain stabs beneath my ribs.
What am I doing?
My heart is heavy and my stomach is hollow as I let my arm drop to my side, the brush slipping through my fingers.
I slide down the tile wall until I hit the shower tray, and then I let go. The tears come fast, heaving sobs working out of my throat, and I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sound.
I’ve never felt so dead inside and yet so aware of everything.
When the water runs cold, I somehow get to my feet and turn it off.
My body feels borrowed, like I’m wearing clothes that belong to someone else, and no one sees it. I’ve become a master at hiding my pain, but I hate the two sides of me that exist in disharmony—the real me and the one I let everyone else see.
It’s exhausting.
That thought is rolling around in my mind when I step back into the bedroom wrapped in a towel.
Then, my heart fucking stops.
Seren is gone.
Seren is fucking gone .
I stare at the empty cot, a tidal wave of dread washing through me.
Time slows, the only movement the frantic pounding of my pulse.
I force calm into my body. If she was crying, my sister would have picked her up and taken her into another room.
But what if she didn’t? What if he’s found a way to take her?
Breathe, Ivy.
I pull on my robe over the towel and head through the apartment in search of my child.
She’ll be fine.
Breathe.
I hear voices as I approach the kitchen, and my panic unfurls.
Riot is standing at the counter with my daughter in his arms, like she’s always belonged there. Like she’s a piece of him.
Despite how hollow I feel, my heart surges. It’s a snapshot of what could have been if I’d made better decisions. If I hadn’t saddled my child with an animal for her father.
In another life maybe.
“What I’m getting is being pregnant is like having a nine-month hangover without any of the fun.”
“It’s worse than that.” Maylie sits at the table, her eyes closed as she sucks air through her nose. “At least if you keep drinking, you forget about the hangover.”
“You see how much your mum had to go through to make you?” Riot says in a silly voice to my daughter, and the ice around my heart thaws a little more.
“Do you make a habit of stealing people’s babies?” I step into the room fully, getting that dimpled smile from him, and the bands around my ribs loosen enough for my lungs to inflate.
My daughter’s fine and safe in the arms of a man I know would die to keep her safe.
“Only the ones that are fuckin’ cute as hell.”
“Language,” I chastise. “Her first word isn’t going to be a curse.”
Maylie snorts. Even though she’s pale, she gives me a smile that cuts through my bone-deep sadness. I’m loved. My daughter is loved. That’s what matters, right?
“I keep telling him and Mace to watch their mouths,” she says, “but they don’t listen.”
There’s a plate of half-eaten toast in front of her, like she’d tried to get food inside her and gave up.
Riot pins me with a look that lingers just a fraction too long, and there’s a flicker of heat in his eyes. Then it splutters like a dying candle and doubt creeps in.
Did I imagine that?
A dark voice taunts my thoughts.
No one will ever love you.
You’re nothing but a tight cunt.
Worthless bitch.
Do you think anyone cares if you live or die?
Riot’s smile is soft and disarming. It should burn away those hateful words emblazoned on my mind, but it doesn’t. It never will.
Link destroyed any semblance of self-love I had. He made me doubt everything about myself, and his vile whispers will always be there.
Why would someone like Riot want me?
“Where’s Mace?” I force the words through my suddenly tight throat.
“He’s gone to get some ginger tea.” Maylie winces, and her hand presses against her abdomen. “I swear, my stomach is in knots all the time. I thought morning sickness was meant to end after the first trimester.”
“Everything they tell you about pregnancy is a lie.” I move to the counter, to my daughter. I keep a healthy distance from Riot and fold my arms over my chest, waiting.
Gripping a carton of milk in one hand, my daughter secure in the crook of the opposite arm, he dips his head, his voice low as he says, “You were in the shower, and she was fussing. I didn’t want to leave the princess cryin’.”
Warmth spreads through me that he did that. “Thank you,” I say, “but next time, tell me you’re taking her. I nearly had a heart attack.”
His eyes soften. “I didn’t mean for you to freak out, darlin’.”
Our fingers scrape together as I take her from him, and I wait for disgust to ripple across his face, but there’s nothing.
How can he look at me like I’m not filthy?
Does he not see the dirt I’m coated in?
I close the door on my internal battle. I don’t have the strength to fight those voices today.
“Sorry. I thought she’d sleep longer.” I hold Seren to my chest, the tension seeping from me now that she’s back in my arms.
“You okay?” There’s concern lacing his words, worry I don’t deserve.
I duck my head, willing him to not pry.
“Of course.”
He doesn’t back off. “You’re sure?”
“I’m fine.” I snag the coffee mug from his hand, taking a small sip before I hand it back to him.
He stares at me, his brow flicking up as his lips do the same. “Thirsty?”
My chest loosens. This banter between us is familiar ground. Safer too. I don’t know how to explain how I feel, and I don’t want to try.
“I only wanted a little sip.”
He shakes his head, and my fingers twitch to push back his hair. “What a rude little thing you are,” he murmurs. “I would’ve made you one if you’d asked.”
There’s nothing unusual or different in the way he talks to me, but the staccato thud of my heart is dizzying. There’s no hate or disdain, just amusement.
Maybe I’m not worthless.
“I can only have one cup a day,” I say. “Microdosing works better.”
He snorts, shaking his head. “That’s a new one.”
I shrug before I take a seat at the table, aware of his eyes following me. My skin feels warm and prickles with awareness, until I notice my sister.
Maylie’s eyes are closed as she breathes deep through her nose, like she’s barely hanging on.
“Are you okay?”
She makes a noise in the back of her throat before she says, “Nauseous.”
I can sympathise. “Do you need me to get you anything?”
“Can you fast-forward time so I’m holding my baby and morning sickness is a distant memory?”
“Sorry. I wish I could.”
“It’s okay.” She exhales deeply. “I didn’t expect pregnancy to be so hard. My entire body feels wrong.”
I don’t tell her that my insides still feel wrong after having Seren.
“Just think about the end goal,” I say. “You’ll have a beautiful baby, and all of this will be some kind of fever dream.”
Riot snorts, and I shoot a glare at him.
“I don’t know why we don’t lay eggs.” Maylie groans. “It would be easier than having to incubate a baby for nine months and then push that baby out of a hole that, despite what everyone says, really is not big enough for what it’s designed to do. I mean, what genius thought this was the best method of continuing the human race? There definitely has to be a far better way, right?”
Beneath the rambling, fear threads through her tone. She’s rattled, and I get it. Giving birth felt like dying and being reborn in the same breath. The only thing that got me through it was knowing it would eventually end—that, and the litres of gas and air I was sucking back like they were oxygen.
“It’s the perfect size, May. Our bodies are made to do this.” That lie burns. Biology be damned, it still hurts like hell. “I got through it, and so will you.”
“I’ve never been more grateful to be a man in my entire life,” Riot mutters.
Maylie cracks one eye open, her glare venomous. “Riot, you know I love you, but if you keep talking, I will stab you with my fork.”
Her toothy smile unsettles me. I gently pry the fork out of her hand and slide it out of her reach.
“No maiming him, even if he’s being an ass.” I shoot Riot a look that promises violence, but the dimples come out again and heat curls low in my belly.
He’s going to be the death of me.
“I don’t think I can do this,” Maylie whines.
I don’t point out that it’s too late to change her mind because logic is not going to fix this. She needs assurance and comfort.
“You’ll have Mace with you every second of your labour. You’ll be fine.”
She groans dramatically. “I love Mace, but honey, he’s going to be a nightmare. The second I’m in pain, he’ll lose his mind. I need calm heads in the room. I want you with me too.”
My lips part, and my eyes go wide. I don’t try to mask my shock. She wants me? My fiercely independent sister wants me to be her birthing partner?
A lump swells in my throat.
“I’ll be wherever you need me,” I say, and I mean every word.
My sister was hurt because of me, and that guilt gnaws at my gut every day. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to fix it, but ten lifetimes won’t be enough to make it right.
I can live with what was done to me. I can survive the nightmares and soul-crushing terror. But Maylie didn’t deserve any of it.
“Hey,” my sister squeezes my hand, “whatever that look on your face is, stop it.”
She sees too much, but then she always has. “It’s nothing. I’m just thinking about how stressed Mace is going to be.”
She doesn’t believe me, and my eyes burn. The mask is slipping, and I’m not ready to let it fall.
“Ivy?” Her voice is thick, weighted with concern.
“I’m fine,” I lie again. It’s all I seem to be doing lately. “I’m just tired. It’s been a long few nights. Seren isn’t sleeping.”
Another lie. My daughter is sleeping better than I am right now.
“Do you want me to have her for a few hours so you can rest?”
My beautiful, selfless sister. “You’re literally green, Maylie.”
She waves this off. “It’s just a little nausea.” Her gaze slides to Seren, softening. “You’re doing such a great job with her. I hope you know that.”
My heart cracks wide open. There are days when I feel like the worst kind of failure. Having a baby is the biggest responsibility life can throw at you, and I’d already fucked things up before she took her first breath. I gave my daughter a father who didn’t deserve that title.
“It’s only possible because of you and Mace. I don’t know where I’d be without you both.”
“Ivy,” she says gently, “you’re the one sitting up all night with her. I’m so proud of you. I just hope I can be half the mother you are.”
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“May?” Mace’s voice echoes from the hallway, and her face lights up like it’s Christmas morning.
Thank fuck.
The distraction is a relief, a mercy. My seams are splitting, and I’m not sure I can keep myself stitched together for much longer. I’m one breath from an emotional meltdown, and putting a brave face on things is not working like it usually does.
“We’re in the kitchen,” she calls, and a moment later, he appears.
He’s not wearing his kutte, just a dark blue shirt that fits tight across his broad shoulders and thick biceps.
His eyes find hers the second he steps into the room, and he devours her with a sweeping glance, like she’s the only thing that matters. Theirs is the kind of love that consumes everything it touches, like wildfire devouring without mercy. It’s easy to see why my sister fell in love with him—he’s sin and devotion wrapped in a neat little package.
May deserves this, there’s no question about it. She’s suffered through hell, and in those dark days after our mother died, I would have given anything for her to have someone like Mace at her back.
I want it too. I want the kind of love that leaves you breathless and dizzy. I want someone to look at me like I’m their first and last thought every day.
I want to feel like I matter.
My gaze flicks to Riot, and pain slices through my ribs.
He’ll never look at me like that.
Why would he? I’m the girl who was raped and forced to carry a monster’s baby. I’m the girl bleeding out and no one has noticed.
Mace tosses the teabags on the counter and moves behind my sister’s chair. The kiss he drops into her hair sucks the air from my lungs. It’s not heated or raw, but tender, like she’s a precious jewel.
A flicker of jealousy buzzes through me, and I hate myself for even feeling that way.
I’ll never have what they do. I don’t even know if I can be touched without flinching. The only men I don’t feel afraid of are in this room.
“I got you the tea and those biscuit things.” He cups the side of her face with a gentle hand, and she leans into his touch. “You still nauseous?”
Her dazed expression says everything—she’s just as in love with him.
“You’re too good to me.” Her smile could power the whole apartment. “It’s coming in waves, but I haven’t thrown up. That’s an improvement on yesterday.”
His jaw twitches, his mouth turning down at the corners. Poor Mace. He’s really struggling with this. The man who is used to fixing things can’t do anything here.
There’s no enemy to fight, no one to hurt. Pregnancy isn’t a threat he can defeat, and that’s what’s eating him alive. He wants to give her the family she desires, but watching her suffer is torture.
“I hate this,” he mutters.
“I know.” Maylie presses his hand against her belly. “But in a few months, we’ll have our baby, Mace, and all this will be worth it.”
“Just so you know,” he says, “this kid’s gonna be an only child. You ain’t doin’ this again.”
Maylie huffs. “Just because I’m sick now doesn’t mean it’ll happen during my second pregnancy.”
He folds his arms like it’s already decided.
“Ain’t happenin’,” he growls. “And if this ain’t better in an hour, we’re going to the doctor.”
“It’s just morning sickness.” She pats his arm before she opens the biscuits. “I’m fine.”
Mace pins me with a look, and the unspoken question is clear. Is this normal?
I’ve had one baby and suddenly I’m the expert on morning sickness.
When I shrug, he scowls at me and turns his attention back to my sister. “You’re not fine, and we both know it. You keep pukin’ and you’re losing weight when you should be putting it on. The books say?—”
“You’re reading pregnancy books?” Maylie interrupts, her eyes wide.
“I want to know what to expect,” he says.
“He’s a thoroughly modern man,” Riot throws over his shoulder.
Maylie ignores him. “If you’re worried,” she tells Mace, “we’ll see the midwife, but I’m?—”
“I’ll make the appointment.”
“I didn’t mean—” He’s already out of the room. “Now.” Her wince is followed by a dramatic eye roll. “You need to talk to your brother,” she says to Riot.
He snorts. “You think he’d listen?”
Maylie doesn’t answer. She knows he wouldn’t. “Look, I get it, but if it was my woman throwin’ up like you are, I’d be losin’ my shit too.”
Would he hold my hair? Rub my back? Tuck me into bed after?
I had May and Toby to take care of me, but what would it have been like to have a partner at my side?
Stop. You can’t change the past.
“He’s going to have a heart attack at this rate,” Maylie warns, nibbling on a biscuit.
“Let Mace do what he needs to,” Riot says. “He’ll work his shit out.”
“Before the baby comes or after?” Riot shrugs, and Maylie turns her attention to me. “What are your plans for today?”
The question blindsides me, and I frown. “Am I meant to have plans?”
“You can’t stay cooped up in this apartment forever,” she says firmly, adopting that maternal tone she’s so good at. “It’s not good for you. Seren needs to experience the world, and you’re becoming a weird little hermit.”
“We’re goin’ to the park,” Riot says without missing a beat.
What the hell is he talking about?
“Since when?”
He leans against the counter, cool as hell. “You heard your sister. You’re becomin’ weird. Can’t have that, can we?”
His lopsided smile makes my stomach flutter, and I forget I didn’t agree to this plan.
Maylie grins. “Perfect. We’ll see the midwife, and Riot can take you and Seren for a walk.”
Riot lifts his mug and gestures towards the door. “Go and get ready.”
What’s happening right now?
“But—”
“No buts.” Maylie points at me. “You need exercise and fresh air. Your legs are going to atrophy if you don’t use them, and Seren needs to see more than these four walls. Can someone be home for when Toby finishes school?”
“We’ll be back by then,” Riot says, smooth as silk, as if he didn’t just railroad me into this.
“Here’s an idea.” I smile sweetly, but irritation burns inside me that everyone thinks they know what I need. I don’t even know what I need. “Why don’t you both go for a walk, and I’ll stay home?”
My bad mood fizzles away as he gives me those sweet puppy dog eyes. Damn . I’m not superhuman. I can’t resist them.
“Come on, princess,” he murmurs, soft and coaxing. “Don’t make me go alone. Please?”
And now, it’s not a fair fight. How am I supposed to say no to that?
“Riot…”
“It’s just a little walk. Half an hour out of your day. Do it for me if you won’t do it for yourself.”
Defeated, I mutter, “Fine. I’ll get dressed.”
I don’t rush. I take my time feeding Seren, changing her, and pulling on my clothes.
Riot doesn’t utter a single complaint when I carry my daughter into the living room forty minutes later.
He’s sprawled on the sofa, his boots on the coffee table, his kutte rucked around his chest, and he’s alone.
He sits, scanning me as if looking for those wounds he knows are bleeding beneath the surface. I wish he wouldn’t look so closely.
“You ready?”
“No.” I’m being a brat, but if he’s going to make me do this, he doesn’t get sweet, pliable Ivy.
Riot’s brow flicks up, his lips tugging into a ghost of a smirk. “Come on. I’ve got her pram ready.”
I shift Seren in my arms when she squirms. Why is he pushing this? “You don’t have to take me out. We don’t need a babysitter, and we sure as hell don’t need a walk.”
My heart thuds two frantic beats as he steps into my space, swallowing the air that was filling my lungs.
“Is that what you think I’m doin’?”
Clear head, Ivy. I mentally shake myself. You’re annoyed, remember?
“Aren’t you?”
“No.” He’s so close, there’s barely a breath between us, and I wait for that rib-crushing fear to hit, but it doesn’t.
It never does with him.
“Then why? I’m sure you have better things to do.”
He dips his head, and my lungs stutter. “Vee, there’s nowhere I’d rather be—” He catches himself, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to figure out where the fuck that came from. He clears his throat, but his voice is rough and uncertain when he speaks again. “I know you don’t need a babysitter, but have you ever considered maybe I want company?”
My stomach tugs into frayed knots. I didn’t, but now that I look at him, I can see the faint smudges under his eyes and the weary set of his shoulders. Guilt gnaws at my gut. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself, I didn’t stop to look around.
Before I can ask if he’s okay, he straightens and says, “Now, stop bitchin’ and get movin’.”
My jaw clamps together— ass— but when he steps away, my body urges me to follow like a desperate little kitten.
Neither of us speaks as we bundle Seren into the pram and head out onto the street. The air is cold but not biting. It fills my lungs, whispers over my cheeks, and calms my brain. Those knots in my shoulders loosen as I let the world pass around me.
Young kids run around the grass as we move through the gates and into the park. Dog walkers weave their way around the paths while a handful of girls are kicking a football around.
Stares follow us as we walk, their eyes drawn to Riot’s kutte, but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.
That safe blanket wraps around me as he walks at my side like a hulking sentinel, but I still scan every face that passes… looking for him .
I’ll always look for Link.
But he’s not here, and even if he was, Riot won’t allow my ex to touch me.
So, I force the pressure from my chest, like opening a valve on a steam engine, and I pretend I’m a normal girl, walking with a sinfully attractive biker without a care in the world.
Even if we’re not.
Both of us are hiding beneath ill-fitting masks.
I slide a glance in his direction. He’s holding onto something, the weight pressing on his shoulders.
Talk to me…
I want to say the words, but they stick to my tongue, and when I finally find my courage, his hand goes to the small of my back.
“Let’s sit,” he murmurs and nods to a bench overlooking a small pond.
It’s quieter here, away from the grass and the kids. Peaceful. Tranquil.
I pull the pram in front of me so I can watch Seren. Her eyes are wide and alert, taking everything in. Guilt stabs me in the gut. These are the moments I’m denying her because I’m afraid.
“You warm enough?” Riot’s voice drags me out of my head.
My gaze snaps to him. Does he really care if I’m cold? “I’m fine,” I murmur. “It’s not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”
Two women almost break their necks when they twist back to look at him. Ugly poison spreads through my stomach, and I lower my lashes. I hate the way they giggle and ogle him, like he’s only here for their pleasure.
My jaw flexes so tight, it aches. “How do you deal with people staring at you all the time?”
He lifts his head and smirks at me with that fucking smile that could level mountains. “When you look like this, Vee, people are gonna stare.”
Arrogant bastard . I smack his side, barking a laugh. Damn, it feels good to let go, even if it’s all smoke and mirrors.
“You’re so full of yourself,” I accuse.
He leans back against the bench, draping his arms along the back. “Babe, I can’t help that the packaging is perfect.”
He’s not wrong, but I’m not going to tell him that.
I scoff at him. “Your head is so big, it’s a wonder you can walk around without your neck hurting.”
“Don’t you worry about me.”
But I do. I wish he’d tell me what’s going on with him.
Just ask…
I open my mouth, but the words die again.
“It’s nice here,” I say, peering around, as if that’s what I always intended to say.
Coward.
“There’s a whole world outside those four walls,” he agrees.
I breathe the air into my lungs, deep and cleansing, the tension lifting. “Thank you for bringing me here. I guess I needed this more than I thought.”
“Any time.”
A woman passes by and stumbles, her eyes locked on Riot. She hurries off, red-faced but still eyeing him.
I stare at the patches on his kutte, my brows drawing together.
“What made you join the club?” I don’t know why I ask, but I’m curious about the answer.
There’s so many layers to Riot that I haven’t unwrapped yet, and I want to see them all.
He stiffens. Shit . I shouldn’t have asked.
“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
“Babe, you can ask me whatever you want.” He leans forwards, his hands clasped between his knees. “It’s just… it ain’t an easy answer.” He exhales slowly. “I guess the simple truth is that I was lookin’ for something and the club provided it.”
My stomach sinks. I didn’t expect him to spill his soul to me, but I did expect more than that.
“And the hard answer?”
He glances sideways. “Let’s play a game. I’ll answer one of your questions if you answer one of mine.”
Panic surges, and my blood turns to ice in my veins. This is a trap. I have too much to hide, too much to lose too. “If you don’t want to tell me?—”
“I do, and I will, but just… humour me, okay?”
I nod, even as my instincts scream at me, but I want to know more about him, so I take the dangling carrot.
“I was lookin’ for somewhere to belong. My sister spent years pushing me, tryin’ to mould me into who she wanted me to be, not who I am.” His eyes scan the horizon, like he can see the memories that built the pain that’s threaded through his words. “I was chokin’ on that leash, so when the chance came to prospect, I took it.” He sniffles, staring down at his hands. “Julie never forgave me, or our mother.”
My heart squeezes as if a fist is crushing it. The anguish beneath his anger is sharp.
“I’m sorry.”
I reach for his hand without thinking, and he tenses.
Shit. Abort. Pull back.
But then his fingers close around mine, and my heart leaps.
“Don’t be. I’m good, Vee.” His voice is rough, the muscles in his jaw taut. He’s not fine. “I can’t control what other people do. Julie’s anger ain’t at me. She hates herself, and there’s no fightin’ that.”
His eyes lock on mine, and I forget how to breathe. I can no longer feel the breeze or the chill. My skin is blazing.
“Are you happy?”
He blindsides me so completely, I forget how use words. “What?”
“It’s a simple question, Vee.”
But it’s not. Not when I’m held together with duct tape, glue, and the hope of a better tomorrow. “Of course, I’m happy.”
“Really?” He sees the lie, and I want to escape his scrutiny.
“I mean, I have bad days like everyone does, but I also have Seren and my family. And… and I have you.”
I avert my gaze, too scared to look at him. I can’t handle his rejection.
“If you ever want to tell me about those bad days, I’ll listen.”
That chill inside me now burns. His words are heavy and strained. I need to be careful not to let him see too much. Not to let him glimpse the fragile mess beneath the facade.
“Biker, babysitter, and therapist—I had no idea you were so multi-talented.”
The joke falls flat. He doesn’t crack even a hint of a smile. “I’m serious.”
Fuck. I close my eyes, my grip on my composure slipping. “I know, but I’m fine, Riot.”
He doesn’t say it, but the denial hangs between us.
“My turn,” I say before he can dig out the truth with his fingernails. “Why are you really living at the clubhouse?”
His jaw ticks, and this time, he’s the one looking uncomfortable. “I told you, it’s free and it’s easy.” Now who’s lying? “Are you really happy, Vee?”
No. Never.
“Sometimes.” It’s as much as I’m willing to give him.
He nods. “Then let’s see what we can do to change that.”