“I’m sorry,” I say.

Adeline gives me a small smile and nods towards Tank, who’s now walking around the backyard. “He’s a good man, my Jonah, but he’s as wilful and stubborn as his father was. Don’t let him push you around.”

I laugh. “Well, I don’t think there’s much that can be done about it right now. He’s sort of in charge of pushing me around.”

“That’s what he’d have you believe, but men are rarely ever in charge—not really. They just like to think they are.” She begins rinsing the dishes in the sink, and I stack them in the dishwasher when she passes them to me. “He cares a great deal for you, Ivy. You’re the only woman he’s ever brought to meet me, so that must mean you’re something special.”

“Is this the part where you tell me if I break his heart you’ll hunt me down like a dog?”

Adeline laughs, but it doesn’t sound mirthful. “No, this is the part where I tell you if you hurt him, you get to carry that with you for the rest of your days. He might not express himself in the best way possible, but he will find ways to treat you like a queen. The question is: are you up to task?”

I don’t have to think long about my reply. “No, I don’t think I am.”

She raises her eyebrows and then looks out the window at her son as he stoops over to pull weeds from the garden. “I think you grossly underestimate yourself. Girls like us, survivors, we have a backbone stronger than a hundred men like Jonah. You just need the right reasons to find it.”

I knew she meant what she said, I knew she believed that with her whole heart, but she was wrong about me. I wasn’t strong. I was weak, and I’d be her son’s downfall. I’d be his ruin. I knew it like I knew the blood in my veins was corrupt.

“I never thought I’d see the day that my son would be in love,” Adeline says, taking my hand. “I can tell it’s not the same for you though.”

“No, it’s not.” I say, and even as the words leave my mouth there’s a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, as if butterflies have sprouted from my insides and grown teeth. They sink their incisors of doubt into me, and plant little seeds of hope. Images of a normal life, of lazy rainy Sunday mornings spent entangled in one another, club barbeques, holidays, and long rides on the back of his V-Rod Muscle.

And even longer rides bent over the back of that glorious bike.

I push the thoughts away, smother the insects with a tsunami tide of fear. Long rides that would get us both killed. I can’t have that dream. I can never have that dream, not with Tank, or anyone else.

“Could it be?” she asks, hopefully. “Someday?”

“He’s not hard to love, Adeline. You raised a great man, but Tank’s worthy of more—”

“No, he’s worthy of the woman he loves. If that’s you, then my only wish is that one day, you can reciprocate his feelings.”

“Why would you want someone like me for your son? I’m a mess; I’m a total pain in the arse and …” I stop, unsure I want her to know the horrible truth about me. “I’m a drug addict.”

She leans over and pats my arm. “I know.”

I frown in confusion. Oh God, he told her? And is she fucking bat-shit crazy? I tell her I’m a drug addict and she’s practically marrying the two of us off? What kind of ridiculous logic is that?

“Don’t get me wrong—the last thing I want for Jonah is to be caught up in more substance abuse. He had enough of that with his father, but he believes in you, Ivy. And I trust my son to make his own decisions. He just wants to save you from yourself.”

“What if I don’t want to be saved?” I say, and it’s a question for me as much as it is for her.

“I’m afraid you don’t have much choice in the matter, my dear. That boy is one of the most stubborn people I know. He doesn’t just get what he wants, he takes every measure to ensure that he does, and right now what he wants is you.”

“I use to forget.” The words rush out before I can stop them, and Adeline runs a hand over my cheek.

“And I drink more than my doctor advises for a woman my age, but sometimes you need to remember, if for nothing other than to remind yourself how strong you are.” Tears spill down my cheeks and I swipe them away with the back of my hands. “Now, let’s leave all this and go sit out on the deck in that glorious sunshine. We have a lot to be thankful for today.”

She was right. I knew she was right, but the dark part of me that always reared its ugly head worried how long it would be before he found me again, and as I follow her out on to the deck and Tank turns to smile at us, I can’t help but suppress a shiver. I’d been out of the clubhouse for a handful of days, and I know as sure as I know the blood in my veins is red that he’ll find me.

I should get as far away from Tank as I can before that happens, but the thought of leaving now strikes fear into my heart for a different reason. I think I might actually miss the bastard. I think I might actually want him around, and that pisses me off, because God knows he can be an overgrown man-child.

After coffee and some delicious home-baked cookies, we thank Adeline and she walks us out to the bike. She hands Tank a few small plastic containers filled with biscuits and leftovers that he secures in the saddlebags. Adeline hugs me extra tight when she says goodbye, and I wrap my arms around her, awkwardly at first, breathing in violets and the soft scent of freshly laundered clothes. It so odd hugging a woman this way, a woman who isn’t my mother but who has embraced me with the same motherly affection that my own might have. “You come back and see me soon.”

“I will,” I promise. And I’d like to, I really would, but visiting Adeline again would likely only put her in danger.

She leans in and whispers in my ear, “And you throw out those pills stuffed inside your bra before my son finds them, or he’ll make you pay dearly for it.”

My eyes widen, my gaze searching her face as she draws away. Tank studies the two of us and frowns. He kisses Adeline goodbye and climbs onto the bike, revving it several times as I nod to her and then slide on behind him.

The entire ride back to the cabin, I think about all the things Adeline said to me. The pills in my bra feel like a brand against my skin. I want to get rid of them, but I can’t. I need them. I want them so bad, but I can’t take them, not now, and not without falling off the bike.

When we pull into Tank’s garage I slide off the bike but he grabs my hand and pulls me towards him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” I ask.

“For meeting my mum, and for not stabbing me with your dinner fork, ’cause I know you were thinking about it.”

I laugh. “Oh, I was thinking of stabbing you with more than just my fork. I considered the carving knife and bludgeoning you to death with the roast too.”

His mouth tips up in a smile. “I think I’d like to see that.”

“What, me murdering you with a leg of lamb?”

“You trying to kill me with anything. Postal Ivy gets me hard as fuckin’ stone.” He bends and kisses my hand. There’s a hint of tongue and the gesture is as equally sweet as it is erotic. I pull my hand free from his grasp and ignore the quiet sigh that escapes his mouth. It’s not that it wasn’t nice, it’s just … that isn’t what we do, and to be honest, I don’t even know what that looks like—him and me, together. Me being an old lady. The idea makes me nervous. What if I fuck this up too? What if I really do become his ruin?

We walk into the house and Tank disables the alarm. I notice he doesn’t set it again, and my heart gives a stupid-arsed girly little flutter because it’s such a tiny, insignificant thing, but to me it’s a gargantuan gesture of faith. My gaze meets his, but he says nothing and the moment is lost as Butch comes barrelling in from Tank’s bedroom, almost knocking me off my feet and licking at my hands and face.