Page 68 of Riot

“Have you considered that maybe… he’s just not going to turn up?”

I give Katie a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

“Men like Link need control. You’ve taken that from him, Ivy. I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’re not interesting to him now. You or Seren. Link doesn’t want to be a father. He wanted to own you, control you, because it made him feel better about himself. I doubt he even cares about you.”

Her words settle around me like a weighted blanket.

“Maybe. I hope so.” I let my gaze scan the restaurant and the people enjoying lunch with their friends and family. Normal. Civilised. Could she be right? He’s just… done with me? “I wish he was dead, and I know that’s an awful thing to say, but I hate him. I hate everything he did to me and to the people I care about.”

“I’m still backing a hitman,” Katie says, breaking through the oppressive emotion.

“I bet your biker knows someone.” Dayna smirks. “They probably have guys like that on speed dial.”

Would Riot know a hitman?

“I’m not asking him to murder my ex, and just because he’s in a motorcycle club doesn’t mean he knows killers.”

Katie scoffs. “Oh, come on, we all know how these clubs work. It’s not a bad thing, Ivy. Who doesn’t want their own personal protector? He definitely knows assassins.”

I open my mouth to respond, but a shadow falls over the table as a figure fills my vision.

Panic clutches me as I tip my head back, half expecting Link to be standing there.

I lock eyes with Jackson.

What is he doing here?

This restaurant isn’t exactly on a busy route through this part of the city. It seems unlikely we’d just run into each other.

He smiles at me, a warm gesture that should make my belly dip, but it doesn’t.

“Ivy. We have to stop running into each other like this.”

My mouth flattens. “Jackson. It’s good to see you again.”

He’s not done or said anything to make me so inwardly hostile, and yet…

It’s just your trauma talking. Jackson isn’t a monster.

I force my body to relax.

“It’s weird seeing you out of a suit,” Dayna remarks, and I remember Jackson said he works in the same building as her. “Your father finally loosen the reins?”

He shakes his head. “Evenheallows weekends off,” he says, not taking his eyes off me. “You didn’t message me. I waited.”

I didn’t. Riot took the card, and I didn’t ask for it.

Jackson is a part of my life that no longer exists. He represents a past I can’t reclaim nor do I want to.

“My daughter was in the hospital,” I explain.

I haven’t done anything wrong, so why do I feel the need to defend myself? I don’t owe him anything, least of all space in my life.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” His brows come together in practiced ease, as if he’s used to giving these false platitudes. “Is she feeling better now?”

“Yeah. She’s on the mend.”

His eyes light up. “Great. So, if you’re free next week, maybe we can meet up?”

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