Page 17 of Blackout

“Okay,” I agree, pacifying her. “Whatever you want me to do.”

More promises.

Straddling my thighs, she winds her arms around my neck and brushes the tip of her nose against mine.

“I want you to hold me,” she whispers. “I want you to love me and more than that, I want you to promise me if I ever get like that, you’ll make me get treatment. That you’ll never let our kids see me the way I saw my dad today.”

“Lacey—”

“Promise me, Blackie and I swear, right here, right now, that I’ll do the same. I’ll never let our son or daughter see you at your weakest.”

Swallowing, I lift my hands to her cheeks.

“I promise,” I rasp.

Promises.

They’re fucking worse than lies.

---