Page 66 of Parrish

“You calmed me down and gave me directions to your house. I had barely pulled into your driveway before you and your men were taking me and my kids into your arms, welcoming us and assuring us we were safe.”

“I remember,” I say hoarsely.

“You took us inside your home and introduced me to your wife. I remember sitting on your couch, watching my kids interact with all these people who, at the time, were strangers. They didn’t look so frightened anymore and I thought I was having an out of body experience. That’s when Reina sat next to me. She must’ve sensed I was feeling some kind of way because she assured me, we were all in good hands. She told me, me and my kids were property of Parrish. I didn’t know what that meant but she quickly explained that me, and my children were part of your family. It didn’t matter that we had just met, I was Pipe’s woman, and that made me part of your world.”

“I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse,” I admit, glancing at my wife. Look where being part of my world got her.

“You got my man back,” she whispers, rubbing her hand over her belly. “That’s a blessing in my book.”

My eyes slice to hers as she takes my hand and gives it a firm squeeze.

“We’re family, Jack,” she says softly. “Through the good and the bad and all the conflicts within the club, we’ll always be your family. Don’t shun us. Don’t fuckin shun me or so help me God, I will take my brass knuckles out of the junk drawer—”

“Damn, no wonder Pipe calls you Killer,” I tease, fighting the emotion threatening to clog my throat. “Thank you,” I force.

“Don’t thank me,” she says, pulling back her hand. “You’re going to make me cry,” she mutters, wiping her eyes. “I don’t fucking cry, Parrish.”

She earns the first genuine smile to grace my face in days and I pull her into my arms.

“You’re a good woman, Layla. I’m proud to call you one of us.”

“You better say that,” she says against my chest.

“I’ll say this too,” I start, pulling back slightly so I can look her in the eye. “My wife is lucky to have a friend like you.”

“We’re the lucky ones,” she replies, pointing between me and her. “We get her.”

No truer words were ever spoken.

“She’s going to come out of this, Jack,” Layla assures. It takes every bit of life left in me to nod my head in agreement when in fact, I’m losing hope.

“Why don’t you go get yourself something to eat? I’ll stay with her until you come back.”

The thought of food makes me want to vomit but I find myself nodding.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I’ll go light a candle in the chapel. If the doctor comes—”

“I’ll let him know where you are,” she interjects.

I nod and watch as she takes a seat next to my wife. Paying me no mind, she pulls a magazine from her purse and flips to an article. With a wave of her hand, she shoos me out of the room and begins to read to Reina.

I don’t know what it is about that scene, but I find myself staring at the two women with a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes. Forcing myself out of the room, I run my fingers roughly through my hair and stride toward the chapel.

The minute I step foot inside the dimly lit room, I feel closer to Reina than I did a moment ago when I was standing only a few feet away from her. I try not to read too much into what that might mean as I take a seat in the first pew and stare up at the cross.

“What game are you playing?” I ask the crucifix. In my diluted my mind, I wait for God to answer. “Send me a sign, strike me with fucking lightning if you have to—just give me something.”

The man upstairs doesn’t send a lightning bolt through the chapel.

The lights don’t flicker.

A pin doesn’t drop.

He gives me nothing.

Fucking nothing.

Angry, I lean forward, propping my elbows on my knees as I peer up at the cross.

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