It's a beautiful dream. Pure, selfless, and exactly the kind of thing Ivy would want. She's been hurt, diminished by a man who tried to make her small. Of course she'd want to spend her life making children feel important and valued.
"But now it feels like a dream," she finishes quietly. "Like something that belonged to the person I used to be, not who I am now."
"Our town would love to have a new teacher," I say before I can stop myself. "Millhaven's small. We don't have that many. The elementary school is always looking for good people."
Ivy's smile transforms her face. "Are you telling me you'd like it if I stayed?"
The question catches me off guard. Because yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. I want her to stay. Want her to put down roots here, build a life in this town, become part of the community I've sworn to protect.
Want her close enough that I can see her, talk to her, pretend for stolen moments that there's something between us beyond president and protected.
But I can't say that. Can't confess that I'm already thinking about her in ways that are completely inappropriate given the circumstances.
"I just want what's best for the town," I say instead, keeping my voice neutral. "And you'd be a nice addition."
*Addition.* Like she's a resource, a benefit to the community. Not like she's a woman I'm already half-obsessed with after less than twenty-four hours.
Ivy studies me for a moment, and I wonder if she can see through the deflection. If she knows I'm lying by omission, hiding feelings I have no business having.
"Do you want to sit next to me?" she asks suddenly. "It must suck sitting on that old floor."
Every alarm bell in my head goes off simultaneously.
I should say no. Should keep my distance, maintain appropriate boundaries between us. She's vulnerable, traumatized, looking for safety not whatever this tension crackling between us means.
But right now, I can still be human. Can still want things I shouldn't want, feel things I shouldn't feel. Can still pretend, just for a little while, that I'm a man who gets to sit next to a beautiful woman without the weight of an impending war on his shoulders.
I get up, my body moving before my brain can override the decision. Cross the small distance between the door and the bed.
The bed dips under my weight, and Ivy shifts slightly. Not away, that's what kills me, that she's not pulling back or putting distance between us. She's just... there. Present. Comfortable despite everything she's been through, despite having every reason to fear men, to fear closeness, to fear this.
"Are you scared?" I ask her.
"I'm fucking scared," she says, then immediately covers her mouth. "Sorry. I shouldn't… I didn't mean to curse."
I chuckle, the sound surprising me. When was the last time I genuinely laughed?
"I'm a fucking biker, Ivy. I'm used to people saying all kinds of words. You can curse all you want around me."
She relaxes slightly, her hand dropping from her mouth. "Cole hated when I cursed. Said it was unladylike. That I needed to watch my mouth."
Of course he did. Of course Cole tried to control even her language, the words she was allowed to use. Men like him need total dominance, total control over every aspect of their partner's existence.
"Cole was an asshole," I say bluntly. "And you can say whatever the hell you want. You're allowed to have opinions, ask questions, and curse when you're scared. That's called being human."
Ivy's smile is small but genuine. "Thank you."
"I'm scared too," I admit. The confession feels strange in my mouth. I don't usually admit fear. Presidents aren't supposed to be scared, aren't supposed to show weakness. But sitting here with Ivy, I want to be honest. Want her to know she's not alone in this.
"You are?" She sounds surprised.
"Yeah. Not of what might happen to me. I made peace with dying a long time ago. But what might happen to my brothers." I run a hand through my short hair.
I can't finish the sentence. Can't voice the nightmare scenario where I survive and they don't, where I have to bury the men I've sworn to protect.
"They're choosing this," Ivy says. "You said it yourself. They know what's coming, and they're standing anyway. That's not on you."
"They're standing because I'm asking them to. Because they trust me to lead them through this." The weight of it threatens to crush me. "That trust… It's everything. And if I fail them—"
