Page 26 of Blackout-

“Alcohol isn’t my vice, Lace, drugs are and until I had a problem with drugs, I handled my liquor just fine.”

“Listen to yourself,” she demands. “They go hand in hand.”

“What happened to everything you said last night, huh? What happened to loving myself a little more than everyone else?”

“I still want you to do that,” she defends. Her voice cracks and tears fill her eyes making it hard to believe just minutes ago we were riding the edge of bliss. Dropping the sheet from her body, she climbs out of bed and turns to me. The hurt in her eyes disappears and as she glares at me it’s replaced by anger. “Forgive me for worrying about you,” she spats. “I thought if you told my father the truth, he’d lessen the load he’s sure to drop on your shoulders the second we sit down for dinner.”

“It’s not on him to lessen shit, Lace, that’s what you don’t understand. The way it’s not your fault I’m fucked, it’s not his either. I signed up for this life. No one dragged me to Satan’s altar against my will.”

“Right,” she says, placing her hands on her hips. “Forget I said anything.”

Her back goes rigid as she drops her hands to her side. Tearing her eyes away from me, she bites the inside of her cheek and turns around.

“Lacey,” I call as she heads for the bathroom. She pauses at the door and glances over her shoulder.

“No, Blackie. You’ve got this, right? You don’t need me interfering with you and your club. Go be my dad’s hero, just don’t come home and be the martyr too.” Turning around, she disappears into the bathroom and slams the door behind her.

I let her have the last word.

Sometimes, it’s better to stand back and call the time of death than force life into something that isn’t meant to survive.

Chapter Ten

Lacey

We didn’t speaka 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 tofixhim, 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.

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