Page 115 of Parrish

There are so many ways I can answer that question.

I’m losing my fucking mind.

I’m doubting my gut.

I’m stalling so I don’t gotta tell my wife she needs to sign herself out of the hospital and trust me—the man she doesn’t remember, the one who has fucking let her down time and time again.

Take your fucking pick, Wolf.

“Of course there is no booze in this godforsaken house,” I mutter. “Fucking Blackie.”

Coming up behind me, he closes the cabinets.

“Jack,” he says calmly. “For fuck's sake, look at me.”

I don’t turn around. Instead, I brace my hands on the counter and hang my head.

“Come on man, don’t do this now. Lacey’s just fucking scared. She knows you’d never—”

“What if I’m wrong?” I ask, cutting him off. Slowly, I lift my head and meet his weary gaze. “What if this isn’t Javier?”

I wait for him to agree, to feed me a laundry list of all the reasons I might be wrong but instead he shakes his head.

“Don’t do that,” he starts. “Don’t go and doubt your gut.”

Perplexed by his reply, I draw my brows together and stare at him.

“But all this time you’ve been—”

“Fuck what I’ve been saying,” he interjects. “I should’ve never doubted you.” Releasing an exasperated sigh, he swipes a hand over his face before reaching out and cupping my shoulder. “Like you’re having a difficult time taking a step back, I’m having a fuck of a hard taking one forward,” he confesses. “Man, standing in your shadow is one thing but filling your shoes is another. For nearly two decades you’ve led us and yeah, you’ve had a couple of roadblocks but there was nothing you couldn’t bulldoze your way through and that’s all because you followed your gut,” he says, digging his finger into my chest. “Now, I know I’ve given you shit these last few weeks. First about taking Bas’ back and the meeting with Javier, then about the deal with the district attorney and now with all this drama surrounding the accident but it’s not because I don’t believe in you. I don’t got instinct driving me, I got you and that don’t make me a leader.”

I open my mouth to tell him he’s got it all wrong, that the only reason I’ve managed to keep us all alive is because I’ve had him and Pipe behind me, filtering out the crazy, but he shakes his head.

“Let me finish,” he demands. “The way I see it, you’re all we got right now. So, until I find my niche, we do things your way. We follow your gut and we take these motherfuckers out. If Javier ain’t the one painting these walls with blood, we’ll still be sending a message to whoever the fuck is by taking on an organization as widespread as them. Everyone from here to the fucking Pacific will think twice about fucking declaring war on our charter. From this moment forward, no more doubts. No more fucking questions. We roll full steam ahead and we don’t look back until there is no one standing in front of us, painting messages on our fucking walls while our women and children are sleeping. You got me?” he asks squeezing my shoulder.

Until this moment, I didn’t realize how badly I needed to have his approval or how fucked we both were with this transition of power. When I handed in my patch and gave him the mallet, I thought I’d be off the streets. If I was behind bars, I wouldn’t be around to watch him take my place. Being on the streets with no rank, on top of everything I got going on personally, is a lot to process. I’m not only doubting if my marriage is stable enough to withstand this latest blow but also my instincts. For a guy who has prided himself on not having his illness define him, I’m suddenly my maker’s bitch.

Fuck that.

It’s time to man the fuck up and do as Wolf says.

Follow my gut.

And right now, my gut is telling me to let the fucking bulldog inside me run loose.

Meeting Wolf’s gaze, I cross my arms against my chest.

“Is that an order, Prez?”

“Damn fucking straight it’s an order. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here. You got a wife that needs to be sprung.”

That I do.

Poor Reina.

She’s about to get a dose of her beloved Bulldog.

Maybe she’ll remember him.

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