But with that, also came the truth—I was sitting here with a methadone drip and I’d never be what she needs. I already had the blood of one innocent woman on my hands, I’d fucking die a slow death before I covered my hands with Lacey’s too. I did what I was supposed to do, I kept her safe and didn’t let Jimmy get to her and that’s where it had to end.
I remembered the pain in her eyes, the night she came to the clubhouse, and I fought to keep the memories of her wrapped around me at bay but staring into her eyes now, the pain was still there. Was I the only one who saw the demons reflected in those pretty eyes? I wondered if God put them there only for me to chase them away.
I shook my head, dismissing the thought, reminding myself I was poison, a man who couldn’t even help himself let alone anyone else.
She’s not my problem.
My club.
That’s what I need to focus on…. getting the fuck out of this hospital so I can be the soldier I am. I had one goal and only one and that was to end the G-Man and all his connections, damn the consequences. Lacey didn’t fit anywhere in my plans.
“You’re okay?” She whispered, ignoring everyone as she stepped toward the side of my bed. “You’re okay,” she repeated, this time her words surer than the first time she uttered them. She reached out to touch me and I turned my head, my eyes meeting Jack’s.
Wrong fucking place to look.
“I’m good, kid,” I muttered, clearing my throat. “Going to want my gun back,” I told Jack.
“Yeah,” he agreed, his eyes wandering back and forth between Lacey and myself.
I felt her eyes on me and it took every fucking ounce of self-control I could muster up not to give in and look back at her, not to reach for her and pull her onto this bed with me.
“So a kid, huh?” I said hoarsely, turning to Riggs, pleading with him to save my sorry ass.
“Yeah, I’m going to be a dad,” he confirmed as he stared back at me hiding his smirk.
“Congrats, man,” I said, clenching the sheet with my fists as I ignored the hurt expression adorning Lacey’s face.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” she whispered, turning on her heel before scrambling out of the hospital room.
Run baby, it ain’t safe here for you.
“Lacey,” Jack called.
Shit.
“Dude, speaking of Pea…” Bones started, glancing at the clock.
“Pea?” Jack asked distractedly, starring after his daughter.
“Don’t ask,” Riggs mumbled.
“Didn’t Lauren have the doctor’s appointment today?”
“Shit!” Riggs roared. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he said hastily, starting for the door. “Glad you’re awake, brother,” he added before jetting out of the room. Bones rose to his feet.
“I better go make sure he doesn’t fuck this shit up any more than he already has,” he explained, giving me a two-finger salute before following Riggs out the door.
Jack turned to me.
“Time you and I had a talk,” Jack said before glancing over his shoulder at Wolf and Pipe. “Do me a solid and go make sure my girl’s okay,” he barked.
“Isn’t that his job?” Wolf pointed out as he tipped his chin towards me.
“Not anymore,” Jack ground out, keeping his eyes steady on me.
Yeah.
We were about to have that talk.
Chapter Thirteen
It’s exhausting fighting with your own head and most of the time I believe it’s worth the battle. In essence I’m the winner because I didn’t feed from the lies my mind tried to fill me with. But what if they aren’t lies? What if the thoughts that your mind creatively spins is the actual truth you were trying to ignore?
I have struggled to own my truth, the one that my heart tells me and not the one my mind does. I tell myself my mind plays tricks on me, that it wants me to believe one thing when I believe another. I argue that my truth is real because I feel it and don’t think it. The heart is a thing of beauty, something that thrives on love and affection, not lies. So, when your heart calls to you, you listen to nothing but the beating vessel of truth.
But I don’t know if those are the thoughts of a na?ve girl desperate for someone to love her or if they are the thoughts of a strong woman who fought for control over her mind and found truth in the jaded eyes of the man she loves.
He barely looked at me. I visited him every day for two weeks, whether it was for five minutes or two hours, I didn’t miss one day. I sat there, holding his hand and asked him all the questions I wished he’d answer, like why everyone calls him Blackie, and if the club chose him or he chose the club. I wanted to know everything about him, even the ugly, and then I wanted to be the one to show him that where there is ugly there is beauty.
I wanted him to wake up and realize that he was gifted a second chance at life, and as much as I wanted him to look at me and notice I was standing in front of him asking for a chance to love him—I wanted for him to look in the mirror and decide his life was worth something.
He woke up.
Thank God, for that.
But, he woke up and he looked right through me. It was like I didn’t exist and every touch, every small gesture, and stolen glance----they were all figments of my imagination. A cruel trick my mind played on my heart.
The heart doesn’t lie.
The mind does.
The heart is gullible.