Page 100 of Blackout-

“My doctor is in agreement with my decision,” I defend, waiting for him to respond. Dr. Heltzer keeps his expression neutral, though, and just gives me another nod.

“We’ll reevaluate the situation once I hit my second trimester,” I add. There is a steely edge to my tone but in my defense, I feel like I’m being silently attacked. More silence ensues before I abruptly stand. “Thank you for the extra photos. I’ll schedule my appointment for next month.”

“Lacey,” he sighs. “If it becomes too much—”

“It won’t,” I snap. “I’ve got everything under control. If there is nothing else to discuss, I really need to be going. I have to pick up my brother from school.”

More nodding.

I swear his neck is getting a workout.

“I’ll see you next month,” he says. “We’ll also do some bloodwork then.”

“Great,” I mutter, cringing at the thought of being poked by a needle. Hiking the strap of my purse over my shoulder, I rise from my seat and force a smile. “Thanks for the extra photos,” I add, making my way towards the door.

He bids me goodbye and I hurry out of the office. I make a quick stop at the reception desk and schedule my next appointment. It isn’t until I’m in the safe confinements of my car that I lose it. The tears stream down my face and I touch my forehead to the steering wheel.

The swooshing sound returns, and I think of Blackie.

The smile he wore when he told me there were two pink lines on the pregnancy test and the way his hand tightened around mine when we first saw our baby on the sonogram machine. The pink teddy bear he dropped on my lap and the tender way he touched a hand to my stomach before he was arrested.

Leather.

Lace.

Him.

Me.

A tragic love story disguised as one of the greatest fairytales.

Chapter Forty

Blackie

I hadevery intention of tearing the photograph of Bishop’s son in two, but that first night I was too exhausted and wound up sleeping until the correctional officer woke me. There was no sign of Bishop and the picture of his boy was missing. As the guard led me out of my cell and towards the showers, I started to wonder if I imagined the bastard.

Later, in the yard, I spotted him by the basketball hoops. He was surrounded by a few inmates and seemed to be in deep conversation with one of the guards. The more I watched him, the more inquisitive I became over the man I shared a fucking urinal with. There was no denying my cellmate was a street guy, but he definitely didn’t ride, and he sure as fuck didn’t fit the bill of a mobster either. The man was a mystery, and I was torn between uncovering his secrets and pretending he didn’t exist.

When we were both back in our cell, neither of us spoke a word to one another. As the silence stretched on and I was forced to face all the things plaguing my mind, I realized how fucking spoiled I’ve been. All my stints in jail have been a fucking cake walk. Back in the day, Jack had half this place in his pocket. There wasn’t a fucking officer in Ryker’s that couldn’t be bought. On top of that, he always made sure I had protection. Sometimes it was a prospect that conveniently got pinched, other times a key player, like Stryker. Either way, I wasn’t alone, and I guess that made doing time more bearable.

By myself, I wasn’t only forced to play by the rules, but I was also forced to face the truths I tried to ignore and at night, when the guards called lights out, my demons came out to play. I dreamed of Lacey and the future I promised her. In my dreams we were happy. She and the baby were healthy, and I was there for everything. Every doctor’s appointment. Every contraction. Every feeding.

Morning would come, the iron bars would open, and the guard would wake me to take me to the showers. Under the stream of cold water, I’d think about my dreams and realized they weren’t dreams at all. They were fucking nightmares because they served as a reminder of what I was missing. Soon, I found myself wishing I had ripped those lines in Pipe’s garage. In a perfect world, the coke would’ve been laced with something and I would’ve fucking died of an overdose.

This went on for three days. The same nightmare played over and over until the Devil decided to switch shit up. Everything was black. I couldn’t see Lacey’s face. I couldn’t see the pink bundle in her arms. All I could hear was a baby crying in the distance and I couldn’t get to her. I couldn’t find her in the darkness. She needed me. My sweet baby girl needed me, and I couldn’t get to her.

I couldn’t save her.

I couldn’t soothe her.

I couldn’t touch her.

Kiss her.

Hold her.

Love her.

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