Page 61 of Blackout

“Of course I stopped taking them. I’m not willing to risk the baby’s health and Blackie thinks I’m being reckless.”

He nods and I wait for him to say something else, to side with Blackie, but he remains quiet.

“When did he tell you?” I ask.

“Right before things went south,” he reveals. He lifts his hand from the shifter and cups the back of his neck as he peers at me for a moment. “I’ve never seen him like that before.”

“Like what?”

“Scared,” he says evenly. “Have you spoken to Dr. Spiegel?”

“This morning,” I reply. “But he doesn’t know that because he never came home. She wants to see me twice a week while I’m off the medication, but she thinks I’ve made enough progress that I’ll be able to remain stable through the first trimester.”

“What happens after the first trimester?”

“I’m not sure,” I admit. “I guess we’ll see then.”

“You mentioned what might happen if you remain medicated through the pregnancy, but you didn’t say what happens if you don’t.”

“I give birth to a healthy baby in nine months.”

“What happens to you, Lace?”

If life were perfect, the answer would be simple. But it’s not and all I can do is remain quiet as every scenario Blackie mentioned the night before plays over in my mind.

“My meds aren’t working anymore,” he reveals hoarsely. The reel in my head pauses and my attention snaps back to my dad. “I haven’t been medicated, and I gotta tell you, Lace, it’s not fucking pretty. I put on a good front—” he pauses, a sad smirk working his lips. “At least I think I do, but most days I have no fucking idea what I’m doing and the people around me are suffering because of it.”

He’s not speaking as a father, he speaks as a man coming to terms with his own truth and it’s heartbreaking to watch.

“I get how you feel,” he murmurs. “You don’t want to hurt your child,” he adds, glancing at me. “You don’t want to look at her and think you failed her.”

The silence stretches between us as the car comes to a stop. Reaching over, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and I watch as the corners of his mouth quirk.

“I can’t believe my baby is having a baby,” he says hoarsely. A beat passes before he tears his eyes away and glances behind me, tipping his chin towards the cabin. “We’re here,” he adds, clearing his throat.

Wiping my eyes, I blow out a breath and reach for the door. My dad meets me and takes my hand, leading me to the cabin. Before we reach the door, I hear Blackie scream. Instantly, I release my father’s hand and charge into the cabin.

I don’t know what I expected to find, but as I take in the sight before me my feet come to a skidding halt. I’ve seen him hurt before. I’ve held his hand while he was in a coma and changed the dressings on previous gunshot wounds. I’ve also seen him detox and even witnessed him get high a few times. But this…I’ve never seen him incapacitated like this before.

Shirtless, pinned to the kitchen table, my husband shouts in pain as Celeste continues to pick at the bullet in his shoulder. Blood drips to the kitchen floor staining it and Cobra fights to keep Blackie still.

“Jesus Christ,” my dad hisses, brushing past me. “What the fuck happened?”

“There’s a piece of the bullet I can’t get, and we don’t have any pain medication. The alcohol isn’t working,” Celeste explains as Cobra lifts the bottle of booze to Blackie’s open mouth. As quickly as he pours, Blackie swallows until nothing is left.

“He really should be in a hospital,” Celeste hisses. “His blood pressure is all over the place…and the blood…there shouldn’t be this much blood,” she rambles nervously. “I don’t feel comfortable doing this,” she adds, lifting her eyes to my father. The hand holding the scalpel shakes and she silently pleads with him. “I’m a nurse, Jack. I fucking change IV’s and swap bedpans. I don’t perform surgery on people.”

“Just keep going,” Blackie grunts.

At the sound of his voice, I snap back to reality and gravitate towards him, pushing my father out of the way. Our eyes lock and Blackie’s face contorts with pain.

“What is she doing here?” he spats, slicing his eyes to my father. “Get her out of here,” he shouts.

“Don’t move!” Cobra hollers.

“Get her the fuck out of here,” he seethes, glaring at my father. “I don’t want her to see this.”

Before I can find my voice, Riggs comes up behind me and drapes an arm around my shoulder. Pushing him off me, I take another step closer. His eyes find mine once more and I stare at him, my voice trembling as I throw his words in his face.

“That’s not how this works,” I say, feeling the weight of everyone’s gaze on me. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Not now.

Not ever.

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