I can almost swear I hear him saying it right back.
Epilogue
Elliot
Eight months later
“YouknowIlikeyou, Rothesby, but I think we’ve reached a point where I have to draw the line.” I take a deep breath, baffled by the words about to come out of my mouth. “No, I don’t need you to come into the stall with me.”
Rothesby gapes at me. “But sir—”
“No.” I hold up a hand. It was already weird that he followed me into the bathroom; joining me in the stall is too much.
Now I get why Freya was so annoyed with me my first week on the job, and I would go and apologize to her right now if I didn’t think she would lord that over me for the rest of our lives. I never followed her into the bathroom, but I didn’t give her any privacy beyond that.
Rothesby has made himself one of my favorites from the palace guards, but he’s really starting to get on my nerves today.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” I say, folding my arms and giving the guy my most intimidating stare-down. “I’ll let you check the stalls and make sure there’s no one in here with us.” There isn’t. I’ve been watching the bathroom door all morning, keeping track of who has been in and out for the last two hours, and the place has been empty for the last fifteen minutes. “Then you’re going to gooutinto the hall and keep guard outside until I’m done. Okay?”
He grimaces, hands curling into fists. “Sir, I really don’t think—”
“Come on, man. Work with me here.”
The thing is, I don’t even need to go. I just need a chance to breathe. A single moment to myself.
It’s depressing that the only place I could think to find some peace was in a bathroom.
Glancing at the door behind him, Rothesby seems to debate his options. He could stand his ground, which he usually does and is one of the reasons I like him, or he could give me this one compromise. He sighs, and then he stomps to the nearest stall and shoves the door open, hints of petulance in each of his actions.
Maybe I shouldn’t have picked a guy so much like me to be my bodyguard.
Once he’s checked all three stalls twice over and searched every corner of the facility for anything nefarious, Rothesby reluctantly heads out into the hall, warning me that he will come back in fifteen minutes if I’m not done by then.
He must have a lot of fiber in his diet if he thinks that’s enough time for some people.
Now that I’m finally alone, I can breathe a bit easier, but I don’t think anything is going to get rid of the knot in my chest that has been slowly but steadily growing for the last eight months. It’s a constant reminder that I’m nowhere near good enough to be in the position that I’m in, andone of these days someone is going to figure that out and do something about it.
I can take care of myself—Rothesby would likely disagree—but I could never live with myself if someone else was put in danger because I made a mistake. I can’t go through another Griff situation.
After using the toilet—I guess I did have to go—I splash my face with cold water and study my reflection. I look exhausted, but that’s understandable given how chaotic the last twenty-four hours have been. I also look like I’ve aged a decade in the last half a year, and I can’t fathom how Derek manages to keep his glowy, youthful look when he’s under almost as much pressure as I am.
My perfect older brother is a pain in the neck sometimes, but I’m glad to have him in my life.
I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve forgotten about the time difference and called Derek in the middle of the night, desperate for him to talk me off the ledge when I’m convinced I’ve made a huge mistake by going down the path I have. He always answers, and he always has some magical solution to anything I’m facing. I don’t know how he does it.
Especially because there’s something he’s not telling me. I don’t know what it is, but it’s slowly eating at him to the point where I’ve been genuinely worried about him. Eventually he’s going to crack if he doesn’t let someone else help him with it. So far, he refuses to admit anything’s wrong, no matter how hard I push, which is pretty par for the course with him. But I hate that I can’t get past his shields.
If I can’t even help my brother, how am I supposed to help an entire country?
My watch buzzes, and I tug my sleeve up to look at the message even though I won’t be able to respond because Rothesby has my phone. The curse of not having any pockets at the moment.
Bax:
So now that Reid is a motherfreaking king, does that mean we get diplomatic immunity in Candora?
I chuckle, bracing for the texts that will follow. Wherever my old ODA is right now, they must have either just woken up or not had internet access until now. I’ve been a king for a whole three hours now.
Wade:
