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I went to bed on the third night, frustrated and genuinely off kilter.

Knox Coleman was nothing like Rex. They were both bikers. Both patched. Both wore their authority like it was a given, but that was where the similarities ended. Knox hadn’t raised his voice, not even once. He hadn’t thrown anything against the walls—not even me.

That should’ve given me a sense of relief.

But it didn’t.

Instead, I laid awake all damn night and dissected every interaction. Knox was more laidback than any biker I ever met. Nothing seemed to bother him, and if it did, he wasn’t the kind of man who led with his fists. Worse, it meant I hadn’t found his triggers. Yet.

Wait.

Why do I want to find his triggers?

That was an easy answer, because knowing what triggered him was a matter of survival. I knew that well, it was why I was still here. Still breathing. Still standing.

I didn’t need to go hunting for his triggers, that was the long and short of it. If Knox was a bad man, he’d show his true colors eventually. They always did. And if he wasn’t, well that meant I was the nutcase poking a bear who didn’t deserve it. You don’t know that, my brain insisted.

I didn’t know anything about Knox, certainly not enough to decide if he was good or bad. Whether I was safe or not.

I drifted to sleep wondering if I was so thoroughly fucked in the head that I was goading my new husband into treating me the way my father had.

Because at least then I’d know what I was dealing with.

When I woke up on day four, I decided to act like a normal woman thrown into an abnormal situation. No more poking the bear. No more trying to prove they were the same.

I wouldn’t be meek and scared. Or passive aggressive. Or self-sabotaging. I also wouldn’t perform some version of easy and agreeable that wouldn’t last beyond the first test. I would just be me. Just… Ivy. Whatever that looked like, and I had no clue, I would figure it out.

I got up without making my bed and hit the shower for fifteen quick minutes. I dressed in my last clean outfit, which meant laundry was in my future, and made my way downstairs for coffee. And food.

Knox was already at the table with his preferred mug in his hand when I came down. He was reading something on his phone, and he only looked up when I took the chair across from him.

“Is everything all right?”

He didn’t respond and I didn’t push. I got up and made a cup of coffee, standing there while I waited for my toast.

“What’s going on, Ivy?” His tone was even and low.

I braced my hands on the counter without meeting his gaze. “What do you mean?”

“Ivy.” His tone was firm but not threatening.

I turned and found my gaze locked with steely gray eyes. “Yeah?”

His lips twitched just a fraction. “Drinking my coffee. Using all the hot water. Burning the food.” He set his phone down. “Are you testing me, and if so, to what end?”

I could have lied. I could’ve denied it. Lying would’ve been easy, it was what I’d done so often under Rex’s roof just to avoid a hit. But I looked at Knox with his curious gray stare, and I didn’t want to. “Just trying to see what kind of man you really are.” I held my breath instinctively and waited for his reaction.

He sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, his gaze steady. Unwavering. “You could just ask me.”

“I could,” I said. “But men lie.”

He grinned, and it was wide and lopsided. “Everybody lies.”

“True,” I said, frustrated in a way I couldn’t entirely explain. “But men can be mean, and I needed to know up front if you’re a mean man or if you’re someone I can actually feel safe around.”

Knox leaned back in his chair and set his fork down, looking at me for a long moment. It was the kind of look that made me feel like he could see right past the carefully composed surface to the mess that lived underneath. “I already told you I’m not going to put my hands on you, Ivy. No matter how much you piss me off. I’ll yell and we’ll probably fight. But that’s it.” He paused for a long time, not for dramatic effect, but emphasis. “I promise.”

I hated how easily I believed him. “Fine,” I grumbled and reached for my hot mug. “I’ll stop.”