Page 24 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“I agree,” I have to admit it because I’m not a liar.

Opal presses her lips together while looking at the flowers again. “Did it come with a card?”

“Yes,” I answer hesitantly, “and they are from him. He’s sorry. The note is,” I pause trying to find the right words and coming up with nothing before redirecting what I was going to say, “well, he offered me five slaps?”

Opal’s eyes widen and she lets out a small gasp. My eyebrows pull together at her reaction.

“He’s the enforcer,” she leans forward, her voice dropping to a hiss which I have to strain slightly to hear, “the man does not let anyone hit him. He prides himself on it.”

A feeling of smug satisfaction rolls through me, but I don’t dwell on it. Because a few slaps, even for a man whose sense of duty is wrapped up in defending himself and the club, isn’t nearly enough.

Maybe it would have been if the scene at the BBQ hadn’t happened. If he had realized he’d been unfair without me needing to put my entire damn life out there. But that’s not what happened.

“He listened to a whisper from a shadow who fed him lies. He ate every single one of them up,” I lay it out there.

“I’m not saying you should forgive him after he sends one bouquet of flowers,” her tone is incredulous. “Hell, no,” she spits out. “Make him work for it. Even if he does, that doesn’t mean you’re obligated to forgive him. Ever.”

The fact that she understands, that she isn’t telling me that forgiveness means forgetting and is the only path forward, has my shoulders relaxing. Before I can say anything else, the door to Bunz Out opens and Vanessa comes bounding in after being dropped off by the bus.

She’s all smiles but then stops the moment she sees the flowers. Her eyes widen slightly, her eyes going back and forth between the two vases. Then she locks on the irises.

“They’re so pretty,” she gushes and rushes forward.

When she touches them, she does it so softly. Barely. She examines each flower individually, assessing, studying. Then she looks back at me.

I clear my throat and point toward where the card is stuck in her vase. “I didn’t open your card. It’s addressed to you.”

She bites her lip before reaching for it, her movements tentative. When she opens it, she gets a little smile on her face, one I’m not sure I’ve ever seen there before. It does something to my chest which I won’t be examining any time soon.

Without looking up, she reads, “Irises mean hope. I’ve drawn a lot of them and found it fun. Maybe you could try and draw one while I start to work on your coloring book. I’ll keep you updated on the progress.” She pauses, her mouth twisting slightly. “J?”

Opal makes a sound in the back of her throat and when I look at her, she doesn’t meet my eyes. I’m not sure what it means, but I can’t deal with that mystery at the moment.

Instead, I focus on a rather pertinent question. “What coloring book?”

Vanessa’s smile turns downright devilish. “I told him, since he’s a tattoo artist, he should make me a coloring book featuring me going on various adventures,” she says it offhandedly.

I’m only capable of staring at her for a moment. Then the laughter bubbles up. Opal is right there with me, but Vanessa only shrugs. The look on her face gives her away, she’s sincerely pleased with herself.

“You’re kind of brilliant,” Opal praises Vanessa.

It’s true. I don’t know if I could have come up with the same idea. I hate to admit it, and I won’t out loud, but I’m curious about what he comes up with for her adventures. What style will he draw them in?

I’ve never seen his work, even though I know Ridge Tattoos has a social media presence of some kind. I don’t look; I don’t need the temptation.

“So,” Vanessa’s face is curious and cautious, “this is a good start?”

I share a complicated look with Opal. Because, honestly, I have no idea. I’m not even sure why it matters.

“I’m not sure there’s a need for all of this. I’m not going to take any more of his derision, but I’m also not his mortal enemy or something.” I look up at the ceiling, searching for some grace and patience. But I’m tired. “This isn’t a superhero movie. I’m not going to become Dogwood Ridge’s answer to Poison Ivy or anything. We can all just let it go.”

Opal presses her lips together and the moment her eyes move down my body, I know she’s picturing me in a Poison Ivy costume, and I narrow my eyes at her. I shake my head and she holds up her hands in surrender. Never a word spoken.

“It doesn’t look like he’s letting it go, Mama,” Vanessa says like I’m being daft while motioning toward the flowers.

“I’m not really sure it’s my problem,” I tell her honestly.

“Okay,” she scoffs and the only thing I can do is roll my eyes.