Page 85 of Parrish

Chapter Twenty-nine

Reina Parrish

Three days have passed since I woke up with no recollection of the last ten years. Three long days have come and gone with no sign of Jack. The people who came to visit me, some adorned leather, others silk— all of them strangers—they assured me he’d be back. They said he was going through the motions, to have patience. But the more he stayed gone, the more I wondered how true those words were. Maybe our love wasn’t as strong as they conveyed it to be. Maybe Lacey was the only one speaking the truth when she said her father was a difficult man to love.

Maybe Jack Parrish was done with Reina.

All the demons those people claimed loomed over us—maybe they had finally caught up to me and Jack.

Where did that leave us?

Better yet, where did that leave me?

Soon I’d be discharged from the hospital and forced back into a life I couldn’t remember. A life I shared with a troubled man. I’d be his wife and resume the role of Danny’s mother without remembering a single detail.

Forcing my eyes open, I release a sigh and prepare myself for another restless day of wondering. I promise to do better than yesterday. To try harder to reclaim my life. If Jack won’t help me recall the lost years, I’ll help myself. I’ll bypass our marriage and how we came to be and work at reconnecting with my son. The door to this room is revolving, there is a steady flow of unfamiliar faces all willing to help me. I’ll ask one of them to bring my son to visit me.

I’ll get to know the precious boy who has been drawing me pictures.

The little boy I look at adoringly in every photograph I’ve seen.

My gaze wanders to the bulletin board where all the photographs have been pinned by the leather clad men with strange names, but my eyes never reach it. Instead, they take in the handsome man sleeping in the chair next to my bed.

My husband.

He looks so peaceful and I can’t help but stare at him. I memorize the lines on his face and wonder if they are the result of a man who has lived a hard life or a happy one. Knowing the little his daughter has shared, I decide it's a bit of both.

I would hate to think a man who has suffered as much pain as he has, hasn’t experienced a sliver of happiness. For reasons unbeknownst to me, I hope I’ve brought him joy. That our son has too.

My eyes slowly trail away from his face. He’s wearing that leather vest again and thanks to Layla and Grace, the women who claim to be friends of mine, I learned my husband is part of a motorcycle club. Well, not just part of it—he’s the former president, which makes me, Reina DeCarlo—the woman who once lived in designer heels, the former first lady of an outlaw motorcycle club.

Talk about a mindfuck.

Shaking the absurd notion from my head, I continue perusing his body. His arms are covered in faded ink. Some I can make out, some I can’t. All I’m sure tell the story of Jack Parrish.

“Take a picture,” he mutters, jolting my attention away from his corded forearms. “It’ll last longer.”

There’s a bite to his tone, and it sparks something that’s been lying dormant inside of me. Something I can’t place.

Go figure.

Those dark eyes find mine as he stretches his arms over his head. I wait for him to say something, to tell me where he’s been the last few days and what happens from here. But he gives me nothing. The weight of his stare causes me to squirm and I divert my eyes away from his. The silence is thick and suffocating.

After spending a decade together, you would think one of us would have something to say.

“You snore,” I blurt.

Seeing as he wasn’t snoring a moment ago when he was asleep, I’m not actually sure if he snores, but my gut is telling me he does.

“And you talk in your sleep,” he deadpans.

Mildly horrified, I let myself meet his gaze.

“That’s horrible,” I reply. “What do I say?”

He shrugs his shoulders and leans forward, propping his elbows on his knees as he peers at me.

“All kinds of things,” he reveals. “Most of the time you just want my cock.”

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