Page 629 of The Tempted

“Love her,” he hissed.

“Love her,” I confirmed. “Now you got what you wanted from me, time for you to get out of here and take care of him. You do what you got to do to keep her save,” I demanded. “Or you get me the fuck out of here so I can do it… your choice.”

Jack lifted his head, his dark eyes pierced mine and watched him morph into the Bulldog as he lunged for me, pulling me by my prison garb over the table.

“You motherfucker!” He roared as the C.O.’s moved quickly through the visitor’s room and pulled the alarm. “You put a claim on my daughter behind my back and then you fucking toyed with her head!”

“Only reason I fucked with her head was to save her goddamn life. Trust me man, never wanted to let her go. Never!”

The correction officer’s pulled him back, forcing him to release his hold on me.

“You have no idea what you did,” he hissed, fighting against the guards. “Had a fucking doctor come to my house and diagnose my daughter a manic depressive and you go and fuck with her head,” he growled. “This is over! You! You’re done. I’ll be waiting for you on the other side Black… me, the motherfucking Bulldog.”

He always had the last word.

This time his parting words had the ability to wreck me.

Manic depressive.

My Lace.

“I came here, hoping someone, anyone, would see me.”

“I see you.”

“You see what I allow you to. No one sees the real me,”

No.

Why didn’t I pay closer to attention?

I threaded my fingers through my hair, tugging viciously on the ends before slamming my head against the metal table as they buzzed Jack out of the visitor’s room.

I came clean and gave him the truth… my truth, I loved Lace.

And in turn he gave me her truth.

My Lace was battling a disease she had no control over, and all the while she was trying to better me she was suffering in silence. I should’ve been the one helping her, giving her whatever she needed, supporting her the way she tried to support me.

I was always looking to save her.

I never thought she needed to be saved from herself.

I never wanted to inflict that type of pain on her. I wanted to hurt her, yes, make her hate me because hating me kept her away and kept her safe. I never would’ve done it if I knew what my words could do to her.

I’ve seen Jack go over the edge time and time again, sometimes it’s a great big event that pushes him other times it’s nothing. When the maker comes out and play there’s no rhyme or reason.

“Petra, let’s go,” one of the C.O.’s demanded, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto my feet.

She needs me and I’m not there.

She needs me to right everything wrong I put in her head. She needs to know she’s more than what I let her think she was… she was fucking everything. She was my heart.

“Let’s go!” he pulled my arm again, but I kept my feet firmly planted on the ground.

“I want my phone call,” I demanded.

And one more chance.

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