Eternal Temptations (The Tempted Series Book 6) (5 page)

It never becomes easier—visiting my boy in a cemetery, staring at his name perfectly etched into a tombstone. Each visit is a reminder of how fucked the world truly is, a testament that no one is ever safe, and even the good die young.

I’ll never completely forgive myself. Every birthday my son doesn’t celebrate I feel the guilt of his death. I’m an outlaw, a choice I made and one I live day after day, washing the blood off my hands without blinking an eye. There are days I get off on it, when the smell of flesh burning excites me. The adrenaline rush of my bullet as it races against the one fired by my enemy ignites my pulse. Those are the days when the ‘Bulldog’ is in control and Jack Parrish fades to black.

Yet, my crimes are not what stole my son’s life.

Go figure that one.

My mind, my ignorance—ultimately my illness—took Jack Jr.’s life. You people think God is your maker, that he is the one who created you and who controls your destiny.

Good for you.

But he isn’t mine.

My maker is my mind, it’s who I answer to, it’s my maker who controls me. I’m a manic-depressive and there was a time when I was too proud to admit that. Silence. It’s golden until it’s not. Until you’re picking out the tiniest coffin in the funeral parlor and your wife is crying buckets of tears as she searches the house for your son’s favorite teddy bear so he can take it with him into eternity.

Then you find your voice.

And you say the words you’ve denied for so long. You speak your truth and confess that you are ill and you are weak minded.
“I’m bipolar and I need help.”

Lithium becomes your savior and sometimes it’s not enough but you know you’re nothing without it. You clutch that orange prescription bottle, hang onto it with everything you have left, because you have another child on this earth that needs you.

There have been times, too many to count, when I’ve struggled with my conscience and my desperation to end my life and be reunited with my son. But in the end it’s my daughter, Lacey, that keeps me here. That pretty girl, with eyes that are so like mine, not just in color but also in anguish.

I never understood how I picked living over dying. Choosing between my children, how did I make that decision? How or why I chose to stay behind for Lacey and not dive into eternity with Jack? I called myself a pussy, too much of a coward to take my own life but now I know why I subconsciously chose to keep breathing. My little girl needed me, and not just to be her dad but to be her inspiration.

Lacey was diagnosed as being bipolar a couple of months ago after carrying the burden of silence for as long as she could remember. I’ve lost one child due to mental illness and I’ll be damned if I will lose another. My Lacey, my sweet, innocent, little girl with a smile so big and bright she has the power to lighten even the darkest of hearts.

Fucked.

The world was so fucked, and those who survive it are the strongest of souls.

Bending my knees, I crouch down in front of my son’s tombstone and run my fingers over his name.

“Hi, son,” I whisper. “I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last visit.” I express my remorse as I recall the last time I sat in this exact spot. I had cradled my daughter in my arms as she cried and professed her truth, introducing me to the demon living inside her head.

“Things are better,” I start, dropping my hand from his name as I draw in a deep breath. “Your sister is on medication and knock wood, it seems to be working. She’s got Blackie watching out for her and I know he will lay down and die before he lets her fall into the dark abyss again.”

Silence, my heart heavy as I try to find the words I came here to say. Instead of finding my voice I relive the memory of walking into my house and handing over my daughter’s heart to my vice president. I remember feeling like I had lost a piece of my heart as I watched her walk out the door and climb on the back of Blackie’s bike. I stared out that window for a long fucking time before my woman steered me back in. I knew better than anyone what two little words could mean to a person, but the two words she uttered were two words I never expected to hear.

“I’m pregnant.”

Two words and I was back in the game. I turned around abruptly and pinned her with a look.

One look.

Some men wore their hearts on their sleeves.

Mine was reflected in my dark eyes.

“I know it’s a shock, and I should’ve waited for a better time—”

I closed the distance between us and lifted my finger to her lips silencing her.

“You’re pregnant?”

She nodded.

Sunshine.

Always pulling me out of my self-created darkness.

Always saving me from myself.

I dropped my hand, reached for her with my other, threading my fingers through her hair as my mouth crashed onto hers.

Two words that promised a future and gave me heart, something to keep me from being reckless.

The wind blew picking up the stray leaves that had fallen over Jack’s grave as I bit the inside of my cheek

“Boy, I don’t know how to tell you this,” I admit, scratching at the scruff that lined my jaw. “Your old man is going to be a dad again.” I laugh half-heartedly. “The way I see it the man upstairs thinks one of two things; either he’s giving me one more shot to nail this dad thing or he’s giving me another life because I deserve it. Maybe I didn’t fail at being a father as much as I think I did. As much as I’d like it to be the latter—I highly doubt it. I’ve got sins, boy, sins that don’t disappear, that can’t be forgiven with a bow of the head and a Hail Mary.”

Pausing for a second, I reach into my cut and pull out a pack of cigarettes. I stare at them before tucking them back into my pocket. I need to quit this shit if I’m going to run after a toddler.

“As much as I feel undeserving, I can’t help but stay awake at night and watch Reina sleep. I stare at her belly and try to picture what your brother or sister will look like. I wonder if he’s a boy if he’ll look like you and then I wonder how I will feel, looking at him and seeing traces of the boy I lost. Then I think of all the things you and I never had the chance to do together. I’ll be able to do those things with him and that makes me feel so fucking guilty. I guess I came here today to relieve myself of that guilt and make a promise to you. I came here to remind you how I wished every day since you left this earth for one chance to fulfill one memory with you. I want you to know that if this baby is a boy, he can never take your place in my heart. Every time I get a chance to do something with him that I never did with you, I’ll think of you, Jack. You’ll be right there with us, every pitch of the baseball, every goddamn time I take him to a game and every single birthday he blows out his candles…. you will be with me, right where you’ve always been, in the center of your old man’s heart.”

I run my hands over my head, angling it so I can stare at the clouds. It is times like this a man wishes he had found God instead of the reaper.

“And if it’s not too much to ask, pull some strings for your little brother or sister—talk to the man upstairs—the man that’s been looking out for you since you left me, and ask him to spare the baby of the illness your sister got from me. Ask him to spare one Parrish child the demons of his father.”

I force down the lump in my throat as I bow my head and reach for the cigarettes again. Fuck this shit, I’ll quit tomorrow. Shoving the cigarette between my lips a hand falls to my shoulder as I pat my pockets searching for a lighter.

“I thought I’d find you here,” my Sunshine’s voice whispers from behind me, forcing me to glance over my shoulder and look at the woman who has healed me in more ways than one. She bends down and takes the cigarette from my mouth, snapping it in half. “What happened to quitting?”

“How long have you been standing there?”

She didn’t answer, brushing her hands over the denim that hugged her thighs before taking a seat on the grass next to me. She kissed her fingertips and brought them to Jack’s tombstone before making the sign of the cross.

at least one of us has God in their corner.

Maybe our kid has a shot after all.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She asks softly as she stares at my son’s headstone.

“Reina,” I start, sighing heavily.

“Don’t do that, Jack,” she insists, turning her eyes to mine. “You and I are in this together and if having this baby—”

“Having this baby means everything to me,” I interrupt. “Don’t you doubt that for one second, Sunshine. You want to talk fears, then let’s talk…tell me why you keep dancing around marrying me,” I argue. “I put that ring on your finger a while ago and you keep giving me the run around.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she mutters.

“Oh no? If you don’t want to marry me than tell me. Right here. Right now.”

“If I didn’t want to marry you, I wouldn’t have said yes when you asked me. How could you even ask me that?”

Her eyes peer into mine as they fill with tears.

“Of course I want to marry you.”

“Then what’s stopping you?” I ask, reaching out to tuck her golden hair behind her ear. “You’re carrying my baby in your belly, Sunshine. You should carry my name too.”

“I’m afraid of having everything because when you have everything you have everything to lose,” she confesses.

“Already have everything,” I rasp, dropping my hands to her belly that has already swelled slightly with the proof of all we had. “Marry me, Sunshine. We can go to city hall tomorrow and sign our names to our hearts, but for the love of all things holy, marry me.”

She drops her hands over mine and looks up at me.

“Is this another Property of Parrish thing?” She teases, giving me a glimpse of her smile.

I divert my eyes to our hands then back to hers.

“It’s clear who you belong to, Sunshine. I put a baby in you and branded you mine forever. I want to marry you because I’m ready to live by my vows. I’ll give you all I am and promise to for the rest of my life,” I tell her, lifting one hand to cup her chin drawing her closer. Dipping my head, I cover her mouth with mine and kiss her with whatever gentleness I can muster.

“Marry me,” I say against her mouth.

“Yes,” she whispers, leaning forward for more of my mouth. “But nothing big. I want it to be about family,” she demands, wrapping her arms around my neck.

“Small, got it,” I agree, hiding my smile as I pull her onto my lap and kiss her some more.

“Lacey will be my maid of honor and of course you’ll have Blackie as your best man, won’t you?” She questions in-between my attack on her lips.

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, threading my fingers through her hair, angling her head so I can kiss her neck.

“Maybe we can have the priest come to the compound.”

Right, maybe he’ll bless the table we congregate at too. Father whoever could not only marry us but cleanse the Satan’s Knights of their corrupt souls.

Oh, Reina.

Crazy never could fix crazy.

But fuck if that matters.

We might be two completely different breeds of crazy but we are suited for one another. She silences my maker with her soft voice and I tear down her insecurities, making those scars that mark her body, Property of Parrish—just like every other inch of her.

“We’ll have to invite the Biancis and the Pastores, but other than that we’ll keep it to just your brothers,” she rambles as my teeth graze her neck. “Oh, and we’ll have to make sure we have some of that non-alcoholic beer for Blackie.”

“Whatever you want, Sunshine. I’ll have Wolf and Pipe blow up balloons, bring in a goddamn support group for Blackie, whatever it takes as long as it puts a smile on your face,” I growl against her skin.

A sexy, low rumble of laughter works its way up her throat and escapes her lips, spreading joy throughout the open space meant for tears and prayers.

Sunshine.

“Do you think Riggs could be our videographer?”

I lift my head, arch an eyebrow, questioning her as she continues to ramble on. She was turning my club into a circus.

Wrapping her arms around my neck she winks at me as a smile spreads across her face.

“We’re getting married,” she whispers.

“Yeah, we are,” I rasp, sliding my hands down her hips as I glance over her shoulder at my boy’s headstone. “You hear that, Jack, your old man is getting hitched.”

Reina’s arms pull me into her embrace.

“You were right when you said he’ll be with you always but you left one part out…you forgot to tell him he’ll always have a place in our family. This baby has a guardian angel protecting him or her, and that angel is his brother,” she murmurs, clearing her throat before she pulls back and takes my face in her hands, forcing my eyes to lock with hers. “You feeling some kind of way, you tell me, Jack. Me.”

“You,” I say hoarsely.

“Me,” she agrees.

Two words that meant nothing to anyone else in the world but two words that meant the world to us. They are the words that became a vow and when the day comes for Reina to take my name and for us to pledge our love and commitment, it’s those words we’ll say to one another, the only ones that mean anything.

You.

Me.

The words Reina and I live and love by.