Page 95 of Blackout-

My eyes drift upward again, and I wonder if Bishop is a man of his word. If there’s hope he’ll be the one who puts me out of my fucking misery once and for all.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Lacey

After Riggsand Wolf dragged me out of the courtroom kicking and screaming, they took me home where Celeste and Stryker’s fiancé Gina, were waiting for me. Girl talk wasn’t something that ever came naturally to me and while I appreciated the effort, I wanted to be myself. I wanted to mourn my marriage and the discovery that love was a lie. A brutal lie told by our hearts and believed by our souls.

I was about to ask the girls to leave when the call came in, revealing Reina had woken up from the coma. My dad wanted me to pull Danny out of school and bring him to see his mom and like the dutiful daughter I am, I put my psychotic break on hold. After all, the world stops for Jack Parrish, heartbreak pauses and tears dry. The things you thought would kill you suddenly don’t exist, and you become a pawn in his game. He moves you across the board, placing you where he needs you, setting himself up to win.

Only this time the man didn’t win.

The king was cruelly knocked off his throne when Reina opened her eyes and had no recollection of the last thirteen years. My father and Danny were essentially strangers to her. The doctors called it traumatic amnesia and said she’d likely make a full recovery, but it would take time. Patience was never my father’s strong suit and I couldn’t help but worry if he’d beat me to the punch and lose his mind before me.

I stuck around the hospital and even tried to visit with Reina. I knew she didn’t know who I was, but I also knew my father was very intimidating. I’d hate to wake up, forget my life and be told the man on the brink of a breakdown was my husband. I don’t know if I helped matters any and, by the time I walked out of her hospital room, I was emotionally drained. It’s amazing how the body shuts down when it’s had enough

Thankfully, Pipe and Layla had offered to take Danny home with them. My poor brother was devastated his mother didn’t remember him and neither me nor my father were in any frame of mind to care for him.

Absolved of my responsibilities to my family, I made my way home to my empty house. The minute I closed the door, I was transcended back to the courtroom, begging my husband to acknowledge me. The more I played back everything, the more lost I felt. How could we go from being somewhat on the same page to ions apart? The only answer that made sense was the one my maker fed me.

He doesn’t love you.

He loves the idea of you.

A man like that only loves himself.

I don’t know when I stopped fighting her or when I became a believer of the venom she spewed, but her voice was the only one to be heard amongst the solitude and as the night went on, she became louder.

More aggressive.

More vicious.

An unruly force I couldn’t break free from.

The tears dried and my broken heart morphed into a block of ice. Anger washed over me in waves and before I realized what I was doing, I started stripping the walls of every picture.

Every memory.

Every lie.

Frames crashed and glass shattered, decorating the floors. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to purge Blackie from my heart and soul. From my fucking life. However, I was learning we don’t always get what we want, and I had no choice but to rid him of our home, of the sanctuary we built on the love I gave him and lies he fed me in return.

Soon I stood in our bedroom, desperately tearing all his clothes from the hangers and dumping the contents of his drawers on the floor. The need to burn every scrap of leather pulsed through my veins and if I wasn’t so exhausted, I might have done it. I might’ve doused the whole house in gasoline and sent love up in flames. Instead, I crawled into bed. The scent of him lingered on the sheets and caused the tears to return. I cried myself to sleep wishing this was all a big mistake and that I’d never wake again.

But apparently, I had used up all my wishes, wishing and praying for him because here I am, awake ignoring the ringing phone. The answering machine sounds and our voices fill my ears, prompting the caller to leave a message.

God, we sounded so fucking happy.

Another lie.

“Lacey, it’s Dr. Spiegel. I’ve tried calling your cell several times. I know you’re dealing with a lot with Reina being in the hospital, but you’ve missed your appointment,” she pauses, and I turn my head to stare at the phone on the nightstand. “It’s important we continue our therapy sessions while you’re off your medication to ensure a safe and healthy pregnancy. Call me and we’ll reschedule.”

A beep sounds, signaling the message has ended and I roll onto my back. Staring up at the ceiling, I lift my hands to my temples and apply pressure, hoping to alleviate the pain. It doesn’t work very well, and I close my eyes in defeat. Subconsciously, I know I should get out of bed. If not for me then for the baby I’m carrying. I’m failing at motherhood and my baby isn’t even born. I don’t even remember the last time I ate or took my prenatal vitamins and yet, I can’t move. When did living become such a chore?

It’s always been a chore.

You’re just realizing it.

Trying to block out the sound of my maker, I drag the pillow over my head and even that is a struggle.

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