“Wait a minute,” I interrupt, lifting my hands to my head as I process the news. “The cops are looking for him?”
“I don’t want you to worry,” my father clips, rising to his feet. “I’ve got everything under control.”
Peeling my eyes away from him, I look to Pipe and Riggs for reassurance. Neither of them meets my gaze and I start to wonder if they’ve lost their faith in my dad. Or maybe that’s not it at all, maybe there’s no way out of whatever jam Blackie’s got himself into this time.
“We need to get out of here, Lace, so grab whatever the fuck you and Blackie need to get by and let’s hit the road,” he orders, turning to Reina. “I’m going to need your car to drive her up to the safe house.”
She nods before looking at me.
“Come on, I’ll help you get your things together,” she offers.
Following me towards the stairs, we leave the three men in the living room. Once we’re inside my bedroom, Reina grabs a suitcase from the closet and I robotically open the drawers, grabbing whatever I see first. Five minutes later my father appears at the door as I’m drawing the zipper around the suitcase. He comes up beside me and takes the suitcase by the handle, lifting it off the bed.
“This everything?”
I don’t even know what’s in there and honestly, none of it matters. They’re all just things. The thing I need most is bleeding in the woods.
“What about your meds…they in here?
Squaring my shoulders, I meet his gaze.
“No,” I say, watching his face intently. “I’m not taking the Lithium anymore,” I reveal.
His face goes rigid and his knuckles whiten around the handle of the suitcase. Clenching his jaw, his gaze flits to Reina and back to me. Before he wastes any more time with questions, I tell him why. “It’s not good for the baby. Now, can we go? My husband needs me.”
Under normal circumstances, I’m sure my father would’ve blown his top, but he bit his tongue and followed me out of the bedroom without uttering a word. Downstairs, I watch him kiss Reina goodbye. Pipe hands her a burner phone and instructs her to call if the cops show while Riggs busies himself by loading my suitcase into the back of her car.
With my father behind the wheel, I slide into the passenger seat and Riggs and Pipe tail us on their bikes. The ride is quiet, and I chalk the silence up to the fact we both have too much on our minds. It isn’t until we’re halfway to our destination that the reality of the situation finally hits me. The last words I said to my husband play over in my head as I stare out the window and tears roll down my cheeks.
“It’s not bad,” my father says. “He’s been in worse situations.”
Tearing my gaze from the window, I wipe my cheeks and look at my father. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the shifter, he keeps his eyes on the road.
“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.
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.