Page 115 of Blackout-

After my father woke me up and told me the news, he provided me with full disclosure and for the first time, he trusted me with his club business, revealing the plan he had put in motion to exonerate Blackie of all charges. You see, my father had given up the Sinaloa Cartel to the district attorney in exchange for my husband’s freedom but instead of getting a call that he was being released, he was informed of his overdose.

The last time Blackie od’d he suffered a heart attack and initially that was all I could think of. I begged my father to figure out a way for me to see him but because he obtained the drugs illegally while incarcerated, they were holding him in the infirmary until he was stabilized. Once he was, they’d likely transfer him back and bring new charges against him. My dad threw more money at Blackie’s lawyer and Schwartz dragged his ass up to Ryker’s. After speaking with Blackie’s cellmate, Schwartz learned something had happened involving a correctional officer. Without knowing all the details, Schwartz declared my husband’s safety was compromised and threatened to stage a press conference and sue the city if they didn’t transfer him from the infirmary to a hospital. Whether any of that is true or not, I don’t know but for someone who was so desperate to see her husband, I’m at a loss as to why I’m standing in the hospital debating if I should stay or if I should run.

“Lace,” my father says, brushing a strand of hair away from my eyes. “Sweetheart, tell me what you want to do.”

“Parrish.”

At the sound of Schwartz calling his name we both turn our heads and meet the lawyer’s grim expression.

“I need a word,” he says, eyeing me. After my outburst in the courtroom, it’s safe to say Schwartz isn’t a fan of mine. I’d like to tell you I give a fuck, but I don’t have it in me. My dad steps away and I try not to eavesdrop. I even turn my back to them, but for two people who don’t want me to hear what they have to say, they’re awfully loud.

“Look, I don’t know if it’s a good idea that she sees him like this,” Schwartz says.

“He’s a drug addict, Schwartz, and she’s his wife. If you think she hasn’t seen him like this before, you’re wrong.”

“I’m not talking about that. His cellmate wasn’t bullshitting, Parrish. A guard staged for him to be alone with members of Javier’s hit squad. They beat the living fuck out of him. Now, if you want your daughter to see him like that, by all means, go ahead. But I’ve seen her lose her shit in a courtroom and it’s not a good look.”

“What did you say?” I snap, moving to stand beside my father.

“No offense,” Schwartz says with a smug expression.

“I didn’t mean that part, but to be fair I’m not really a fan of yours either,” I hiss.

“Lace—”

“No,” I spat, narrowing my eyes at Schwartz. “So, it’s true? He was attacked in there?

“Before you get all riled up and make another scene, none of us want to be a part of, I’m already handling the situation.”

“Handling it how?”

“Are you always like this?”

“Answer the question, Schwartz,” my dad growls.

“In about twenty minutes every news station in the tri-state area will be interrupting their scheduled broadcasting to share photos of Blackie lying in that hospital bed. I also have someone from my office filing an emergency motion to drop the possession charges brought against him this morning. It just so happens Judge Riley owes me a favor and I’m cashing in. However, don’t hang up a welcome home banner just yet. The court is going to mandate he goes to rehab and there is no way around that.”

“It’s better than him going to jail and besides he can use the help,” my father says. The two of them continue to speak as if I’m not there, deciding what is best for Blackie. No one notices as I slip away and turn towards the hospital room. If they do, neither of them tries to stop me. I don’t know how to explain the change of heart. I think no matter how hopeless the situation it’s in a person’s nature to want to heal someone they love. It doesn’t matter I’ve been constantly trying to save the same man who keeps breaking my heart, I still want to believe my hand was meant to fill his. That my heart, as fragile and broken as it might be, exists only for him. Every beat is his. Every crack too.

Gripping the doorknob, I draw in a deep breath and hold it. As soon as I find the courage to open the door, I release the breath and shuffle my feet inside the room. Before I can take another step, a uniformed officer stands in front of me.

“Can I help you?”

“I…I’m his wife,” I stammer. Silently, he rakes his eyes over me. I’m about to ask if he needs to see my I.D. or something, but he moves to the side and allows me room to enter.

“No touching,” he warns. All too familiar with the rules and regulations surrounding a prisoner, I jerk my head in response.

“Lace, baby, is that you?”

My eyes snap towards the sound of Blackie’s voice and a gasp escapes my lips at the sight of him. Shackled to the bed by a pair of handcuffs, the man I married is unrecognizable. Aside from the dry blood and harsh bruises covering his beautiful face, his left eye is swollen shut and just below the brow there is a deep gash that’s been stitched with black thread.

“Lace?”

“I’m here,” I croak.

“C’mere, let me see you. I need to see you,” he slurs desperately.

The bitter part of me wants to let him stew and feel everything he inflicted on me in that courtroom. All the pain and every ounce of heartache. But the bigger part, the part that loves him unconditionally, runs to his side.

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