Page 133 of Blackout-

“Yeah, I just…”

I can’t take any more.

“My time is up,” I lie, roughly pushing my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she whispers.

“Can I call you again?” I ask my voice cracks with every word.

“Yes.”

“Okay…I’ll…um…we’ll talk soon.”

Desperate for the pain to fade and for the gaping hole in my heart to close, I hastily hang up the phone.

Without sayinggoodbye.

Without telling herI love her.

I drop my head into my hands and I fucking cry.

I cry for the woman I love.

For the baby growing inside of her.

And for a fleeting second, I want to escape.

I want to drown my sorrows in a bottle of booze.

I want to tie a tourniquet around my arm and shoot my veins to kingdom come.

But more than anything, I just want to go home.

I don’t want to be an addict anymore.

I want to be the man worthy of their love.

I want to kiss my wife and hold my daughter in my arms.

For her to know my voice and how much I fucking love her.

Pushing myself out of the chair, I stride towards the door and pull it open. I make my way out of the main building and trek across the grounds to the dormitory. When I finally reach my room, I lock myself inside and sit in front of the computer. I create two email accounts. One for my wife and one for my daughter, deciding I’ll give the password to her on her eighteenth birthday.

Chapter Fifty-Two

Lacey

“Are you nervous, is that it?”my mother questions. She tosses the magazine she’s been pretending to read on the table and twists in her chair to face me. “And, don’t you dare tell me nothing is bothering you. I can see it all over your face.”

Feeling transparent, I look away from her. Either I’m losing my touch at hiding my feelings or I’ve been fooling myself into thinking everyone buys my bullshit.

“Is it because Blackie isn’t here?” she presses. “I know the last few months have been rough and every time you come here it’s worse--”

“I spoke to him,” I blurt, finally meeting her gaze. Her eyebrows shoot up in surprise, nearly reaching her hairline. “When?”

“About two weeks ago,” I reply.

I’ve been replaying those few moments we shared over the phone on a loop inside my head since he ended the call. Hearing his voice was just what I need to quiet my mind and restore my faith in us. It surprised me how much he sounded like the man I fell in love with and for those few minutes I believed he loved me. I could sense the change in him and noted every difference…every sign of growth…of recovery. Blackie was making strides in rehab and still called me. He wanted to hearmyvoice. That was something my maker couldn’t take from me.

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