Page 686 of The Tempted

Chapter Six

I pull my bike into my driveway, cutting the engine as I stare up at the house I never thought I’d live in, never wanted to live in, until Lace. She’s got me doing a whole lot of things I never thought I’d do again; laughing, smiling, girl even has me dancing out on the back deck at night. She strung lights along the fence and some nights I find her dancing beneath those twinkling lights. I stare at her for a few moments, basking in my angel’s glow and then her eyes find mine and her smile widens, lighting up my whole fucking world.

She drags me out of the house and forces me to wrap my arms around her and dance. Sometimes we dance to our song, ‘Leather and Lace’, other times she chooses a different song. It depends on her mood and where her head is at. If it’s our song that’s playing, I know she’s struggling and I give her all I’ve got. I try to take her out of the darkness that inebriates her, like she’s pulled me from mine, time and time again.

I am a recovering addict, someone who used to think the only thing he had left in this world was poison. I used drugs and alcohol as a crutch to get me through, to numb me from the pain and bring me to the state of oblivion I craved. Lacey stormed into the Satan’s Knight’s clubhouse one night, trying to escape her own demons, and the girl I had protected since she was fifteen, became my sole purpose for breathing.

One night.

That’s all it took for her to get underneath my skin.

She reminded me of the man I was before my first wife, Christine, died. The man before the corruption, the man before the bottle of Johnny Walker, and a syringe full of heroin. She showed me I could still be the man I used to be, that he was still alive buried beneath the leather. It was because of Lacey I realized how badly I wanted to be that guy again and how much I didn’t want to quit life.

As much as I’d like to say Lacey is the reason I stay clean—she’s not. Sure, having her in my life, being the man she loves, it’s all part of the equation but it’s not everything. It shouldn’t be either. I stay clean for myself because I want to be the man who keeps her. I want to be the man who gets to write her story with her. I want to be better because I am more than a needle and a bottle of booze. I stay clean because I want to live.

I’m an addict but I’ve found a new addiction, one that will bring me to my knees and one that will keep me breathing—I’m addicted to Lacey’s smile.

That smile is the only addiction worth having.

Her happiness is the only high I crave.

I climb the front stoop, hoping when I open the door it’s that smile that greets me. I fit my key into the door and pause as I hear the music blasting through the house, a grin plays across my face.

I’ve gotten used to smiling.

Something I hadn’t done in years.

It’s the little things we take for granted. The little things that we forget make life worth living.

I open the door, kick it closed with the heel of my boot and follow the sound of the music. It’s not our song that she’s playing, which means Lacey’s maker is silent today.

Her maker is her mind.

Some people believe God is their maker; that He controls Heaven and Earth, but for my Lace, her maker is her mind. Lacey is bipolar and her mind controls her. While I have a sponsor who talks me off the ledge, Lace has a bottle of Lithium.

I know what you’re thinking—they’re fucked.

But we’re not.

Each day we wake to a blank page, we pick up the pieces of our shattered souls and write our story. A story that portrays hope and the struggles of life.

I freeze in my tracks as I reach the kitchen and spot her dancing to the beat of the music, singing along to a tempo of her own. Girl can’t sing for shit but she can move.

Goddamn can she move.

Prancing around in nothing but one of my black t-shirts—fanning, she was fanning the charred something or other on top of the stove—she’s the most beautiful sight a man like me ever saw.

The girl can’t cook either but that doesn’t stop her from trying. I think that’s what I love most about her.Noandcan’tare two words that are not part of her vocabulary. It’s the resilience rooted deep in her veins that makes her who she is.

Lacey doesn’t need a hero.

She’s her own goddamn hero.

And if there is something she wants to conquer, step the fuck out of her way because she will leave her footprints on your back as she walks right over you to get what she wants.

It’s fucking incredible to watch.

Sneaking up behind her, I wrap my arms around her waist and drag her body against mine, causing her to squeal happily.

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