Page 55 of Blackout-

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Just stating facts,” he mutters. “By the time we get there, Celeste will likely have the bullet out already.”

“Celeste,” I repeat. “You have a nurse, a fucking nurse performing surgery on my husband. Do you know how absurd that is?”

“She’s qualified.”

“She’s a nurse,” I reiterate.

“I’m aware,” he grinds out.

There’s no use in arguing with him. Nothing is serious enough. No situation too dire. Not when you’re Jack Parrish. The things that alarm normal people aren’t even on his radar. If someone told him a natural disaster was on the brink of wiping us out, he’d hold up his hands and tell God to step aside, he’s got this.

As infuriating as it is to be on the receiving end of his blasé attitude, I kind of wish I could be more like him. It must be nice to live life so confidently and without regret.

“I kicked him out,” I blurt mindlessly. My father doesn’t respond, and I turn my head to see if he’s listening. “We fought after we left the doctor yesterday.”

“Over the baby?”

“Over me taking my meds. If I stay on the Lithium, there’s a chance the baby will be born with a heart defect.”

“So, you stopped taking them.”

“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.

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