Page 12 of Blackout-

As sad as that sounds, it’s true. Like I don’t know any other life, neither does he.

“I don’t like it either,” she continues. “I am trying to convince him to try the new meds, but you know your father…”

“He’s stubborn as shit,” I hiss. Pausing for a beat, I angle my head before speaking. “I know you don’t want him to know I was here but what if I spoke with him?”

“No,” she says adamantly. “I meant it when I said he can’t know I let you see him like that. Lacey, your father isn’t fighting his illness for himself. A small part of him battles for me and Danny and maybe there’s even a piece of him that fights for his club…but, you, you’re the main reason that man wakes up every day. You’re why he gets out of bed. You, you’re his purpose. If he can do anything in this world, he can show his daughter she’s not damaged. She’s not broken. She’s beautiful and resilient. A goddamn warrior like her old man.”

The dam breaks and the tears spill from the corners of my eyes.

“He is a warrior,” I insist.

He always will be.

Reina reaches across the table and takes my hand in hers. My gaze meets hers and I see the exhaustion in her eyes. I also see the determination and the love. So much goddamn love.

“I promise you, I will do whatever it takes to get him to try the new medication. Whatever happens, whatever the side effects are, I will get him through it.”

I squeeze her hand.

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to my dad.”

“Then we’re even because he’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” she says. Releasing my hand, she straightens her shoulders and draws out a sigh. “So, now why don’t you tell me what brings you by?”

Pulling my lower lip between my teeth, I remember that I came here with every intention of telling my father to lay off my husband. But now, I understand why he’s been running Blackie ragged. My superhero of a father is slipping. His cape is tattered and torn and his days of holding that gavel are numbered. The transition of power is upon us and it couldn’t be happening at a worse time for the little family Blackie and I have spent the last twenty-four hours trying to create.

Shaking my head, I force that fake fucking smile of mine back in place.

“It’s nothing,” I tell her. “I was in the neighborhood.”

Lies.

Sometimes they take the place of dreams.

Chapter Six

Blackie

Consumed with guilt,I pull my bike into the driveway behind Lacey’s car, and kill the engine. I drop the kickstand and remove the helmet from my head. Shaking my hair out of my face, I loop the straps of the helmet through the handlebars but other than that I don’t move. I don’t even look at the house. I just keep my eyes trained on my boots and muster up the courage to walk inside and face my wife.

I try to block out the sound of Pipe’s voice, but it continues to ring in my ears, reminding me how badly I fucked things up. Two hours ago, he showed up to relieve me from my duty and immediately knew I had been drinking. It wasn’t the empty bottle of booze sitting on the counter or the stench of scotch on my breath that gave me away; it was the blank look in my eyes that everyone around me was all too familiar with.

However, the days of downing a bottle of whiskey and going to town on an eight ball of coke were over. All it took was two drinks, and I was toast.

The girl crying in the next room disappeared.

The sins of the club, a distant memory.

My impending future with the Satan’s Knights, forgotten.

But it all came rushing back when Pipe’s fist collided with my jaw. The girl, the mess with Yankovich and Jack’s failing mind, I felt it more than I felt the splintering pain in my face. If I didn’t already hate myself, I sure as fuck did the moment Pipe threw me in the shower. With freezing cold water raining over me, I lifted my head and stared at him. There wasn’t a trace of remorse to be found in his eyes as he glared at me, only disappointment. He didn’t say a word, and neither did I.

Anything either of us could’ve said wasn’t something we hadn’t already heard a thousand times before. He didn’t waste his breath by calling me a drunk or a junkie and I didn’t promise to get clean or even apologize. There was no need. Forgiveness wasn’t something I was entitled to, it was something a man earned. So was respect and clearly, Pipe had lost any respect for me. After I changed my clothes and downed a pot of coffee, I saw myself out of the safe house without a word.

He didn’t try to stop me from leaving.

Nor did he tell me to ride safely.

Pipe didn’t give a flying fuck.

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