The Wild Wolf Pup (Zoe's Rescue Zoo #9)(31)

My stepmother is pregnant and while I’m genuinely happy for Reina and my father, for this new life we’re all going to love to pieces, I can’t help feeling some kind of way.

What if this new child is born like me? And if I’m asking myself that question, I wonder if my father is too. Is he worried that another innocent child will fall victim to the illness that is generated in his DNA. I become angry because I know how it is to live impaired by my mind and wouldn’t want that for anyone let alone an innocent child. I can’t help thinking that it would be negligent to bring a child into this world, knowing there is an illness he or she may inherit.

Since I’ve been diagnosed I try to put myself in my father’s shoes. He’s survived mental illness and somehow he doesn’t let it dictate his life. I try to understand his logic and ask myself if I could live like him. I’ve always wanted children, and now that I am with Blackie, I want nothing more than to give him everything he’s ever hoped for but never thought he’d have. I know he wants kids, maybe not now but eventually he wants to fill this house and the blank pages of our story with children.

I close my eyes and I can see it all so vividly, the life we dreamed of having—the little girl with her daddy’s eyes and her mommy’s sweetness. She’d have a smile so big and so bright that it will melt her daddy’s heart. In my dreams we always have a girl, and she’s the apple of Blackie’s eyes. She’d be his true angel, and I’d be the one who gave her to him.

I want it so bad.

For that dream to become our reality but how selfish would that be? Or would it? Am I letting my own fears, my own demons dictate Blackie’s future? On one hand I think it would be cruel of me to have a baby, knowing I could pass down the illness that runs in my family to my child and watch my baby suffer like I have. Then on the other hand it would be cruel to take that dream from Blackie especially when the man just started dreaming again.

It’s times like this, when I want to talk to my dad, when I wish things were different for us. If there was anyone who might understand my thoughts it would be my father, but he’s not ready for me to discuss babies with him. He barely can handle me living with Blackie.

Funny how even when I’m not silent—I am.

I walk into the empty room and lean against the wall furthest from the door, looking around the space. It would be the perfect room for a baby. I slide down the wall, bring my knees to my chest and rest the masks on top of them.

Happiness.

Sadness.

Would I ever find the middle ground?

I close my eyes and drop my head to my knees, deciding I was done with the torment for the day. All I want is to forget reality just for a little while.

I was too engrossed in my thoughts to hear the front door close, or the sound of Blackie’s boots pounding against the wooden steps, but the moment I hear him call for me I lift my head and stare up at my Leather.

“Lace,” he whispers, threading his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face as his eyes dart around the room before they gaze into mine. “What’re you doin’?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“Nothing,” I say. Advancing toward me, he crouches down in front of me and continues to stare at me, concern etched across his beautiful face.

“Everything okay?”

I glance down at the smiling mask and force myself to mimic the gesture. He diverts his eyes to the masks on my knees, gently reaching out to take them from me. I wanted to snatch them back, hang onto them like a child clutches a blanket for security but refrain from it.

He stares down at them for a moment before lifting his eyes back to mine. He places the masks on the floor beside him before reaching out and caressing my cheek with the back of his hand.

“Talk to me, girl,” he coaxes. “Did you forget to take your medicine today?

His question feels like a slap to the face and causes me to flinch. It wasn’t an accusation but a question of concern, yet it angered me he would even ask.

“Of course I took my medicine,” I snap. “They’re not magic pills, Blackie. I still have the ability to feel, just like every other human being.”

“Then tell me what your feeling because I’m not a mind reader, girl,” he replies, keeping his voice calm.

“I’m just sad is all,” I mutter. Frustration chomps at the words, making them sound edgier, meaner and more aggressive than I mean for them to be. If I don’t have a smile plastered to my face at any given time everyone automatically assumes I skipped my meds and unleashed the crazy.

“I’m allowed to be sad,” I argue.

“Of course you are but if you’re sad then you need to tell me why,” he demands. “Let me make it better for you,” he adds, softly.

I shake my head, wishing it was as easy as he made it.

“You can’t fix every part of me that’s broken no matter how much you want to,” I rasp, pushing off to stand. I go to walk away, meaning to put space between us until I gather control over myself because Blackie didn’t deserve my demons—not when he had his own threatening to avenge.

But he had a different plan. Closing his hand around my ankle he stops me in my tracks.

“Lace,” he rasps, demanding my attention. He rises, his hand traveling up my leg as he stands to his full height. “Don’t underestimate me,” he says gravely. “Give me your broken pieces and let me glue them back together.”