Page 29 of Blackout

Chapter Ten

Lacey

We didn’t speak a word to one another after that and I’m not sure what that means. It’s like I snapped the minute he mentioned we were going to my father’s house. In that moment I was no longer the understanding wife or a trained professional. Staring at a broken man, wishing to fix him, I became a woman afraid of losing her husband to a disease he can’t control,

Blackie pulled his motorcycle into my father’s driveway and parked it amongst the sea of chrome. Once he killed the engine, we dismounted in silence and started for the stoop. It was apparent neither of us wanted to be there and yet when we reached the landing, Blackie rang the doorbell and took my hand. Again, there were no words. We fit our masks to our faces and braced ourselves as Reina answered the door.

Looking much better than the last time I saw her, she smiles at us and I wonder if she’s got her mask on too. Maybe it’s not a bipolar thing. Maybe it’s a Satan’s Knights thing, something we all do, brothers and old ladies alike, just faking it hoping we make it.

My mother didn’t make it. If you ask her about my dad, she’ll tell you he was her first love and he’ll always have a place in her heart, but love wasn’t enough for them. For her. She couldn’t continue to smile through the pain anymore or watch him lose himself to the reaper on his back and the devil living in his mind.

Growing up, I resented her a little and thought she was full of shit. How could you claim to love someone and walk away when things got rough? Even now, I can’t comprehend it. But I’m not a mother. I didn’t watch my son die. That kind of pain changes a person. It makes them hard in places they were once soft.

“You’re just in time, I’m about to take the lasagna out of the oven,” she says, giving me a kiss on the cheek. Breaking away from me, she turns to Blackie and greets him the same way. “Jack’s been waiting for you.”

“I bet,” Blackie mutters.

“Come in,” Reina continues. “Close the door behind you, Blackie.” She turns her attention back to me. “Bas brought a woman, says it’s his sister-in-law or something along those lines, but they can’t keep their eyes off one another, and she’s got a little boy. He’s getting along so well with Danny. Everyone’s in the living room,” she adds before strutting towards the kitchen.

Keeping my back towards Blackie, I shrug off my jacket as he closes the door. I’m about to make my way into the living room when I feel his arm snake around my waist. Pulling me towards him, his lips find my ear.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Relief washes over me and I slink against him, relishing in the feel of him. I hate when we fight. I fucking hate it more than anything.

“I’m sorry too,” I whisper, turning my head. Our eyes lock and he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Still love me?”

If that’s not the most absurd question.

Love might not have been enough for my mother, but it’s everything to me. As long as I’m breathing, I’m going to love this man and with love, I believe you can conquer anything.

“Like I can ever stop,” I reply, leaning in to kiss him.

“Didn’t you two get enough of that shit,” my father growls.

“Cockblock,” Blackie hisses.

Laughing, I break the kiss and turn to face my father.

“Hi, Dad,” I say. Taking him in, I breathe another sigh of relief. Gone is the frail man, tormented by his mind. In front of me stands the badass I grew up admiring. Dressed in faded jeans, a black Henley and his worn leather vest, he’s Jack Parrish, president of the Satan’s Knights and nothing can touch him. Nothing can break him.

The mask fades and a genuine smile spreads across my face. Tears also fill my eyes, but I somehow manage to keep those at bay. Without thinking too much into it, I throw my arms around him and hug him tightly.

I don’t want to lose my husband to his disease, and I don’t want to lose my father to his.

These two men, they’re my whole heart and I don’t think I’d survive without one of them.

“Whoa,” my father says, wrapping an arm around my waist. “What do I owe this greeting to?”

“I’m feeling generous,” I reply, breathing in the scent of his musky cologne. He’s worn the same scent since I was a kid. Then, it was mixed with the stale smell of cigarettes, but he’s kicked that habit after my brother, Danny, was born.

“At least one of us is,” Blackie says from behind me. “I’m blocking your number from my phone.”

“I’ll just show up on your doorstep, motherfucker.”

“Yeah? You remember what happened the last time you did that?” Blackie taunts as I pull out of my father’s embrace. He glares at my husband until I lift my hand to his cheek and turn his attention back to me.

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