She smiles back at him. For fuck’s sake. What kind of impartial journalist is she?
“Is there someone special in your life?” she asks.
“Right now I’m totally focused on my campaign.”
There’s a chorus of disappointed groans from the audience. I clench the sides of my lectern, forcing myself to look impassive. Secretly, I’d like to kick it over.
“Representative Preston, where do you currently stand on gun control?” Jenna asks me. Apparently, she doesn’t want to giggle over my relationship status as she did with Jude.
“The same place I’ve always stood,” I say. “I’m for it, and here’s why.”
I launch into my prepared answer and fall into a groove, hitting every note I rehearsed. I’m feeling especially good as I refute Jude’s statement that he’s the only one who will look out for our veterans.
“I agree that our veterans need a voice,” I say. “I’ll also be their advocate. And in addition, I’m going to be a voice for other people I meet daily who aren’t being heard. The single mom who needs help to finish college so she can provide for her family. LGBTQ Americans who want and deserve complete equality. The college student who can’t afford rising tuition costs and faces graduating with a mountain of debt. Seniors who deserve to know Social Security and Medicare are safe and not being raided to fund other programs. Our country’s diversity is a tremendous asset, and we need to remember everyone deserves to be represented.”
Jude meets my eyes for a split second before speaking. “Representation is good, but let’s be real here. No one person can represent every voice out there because some of the voices are in direct opposition to each other. I will listen to all of them and then make what I feel is the best decision. That’s leadership. I’ve led before, sometimes in life-or-death situations. I don’t want to go to Congress and do what’s popular. I want to do what’s right. That’s what—”
“Are you saying I won’t do what’s right?” I cut in sharply. My heart is pumping rapid-fire in my chest as I realize he just accused me of just doing what’s popular.
“Your idea of what’s right comes back to who exerts the most pressure on you,” Jude says to me. “And that’s no fault of yours, it’s true of most politicians. I’ve got broad shoulders, and I can say no to the special interests. I don’t cave under pressure.”
“Neither do I.”
“You did when you cast your vote on state pension reform. Our state is broke, Representative Preston. We’re deeply in debt, but you kicked the can down the road instead of making a tough decision because your vote belongs to the teacher’s unions.”
His comment draws light applause.
“I voted my conscience,” I say, turning back to the audience. “Our teachers earned their pensions. I’m not raiding what they earned. I’ve cast votes on tough decisions.”
“During your short tenure as a state representative or while you were a law school student?” Jude asks sharply. “I’ve decided who would be first in line facing insurgents in battle, which means certain death.”
This is my moment. I don’t even think before speaking. “I guess I am nothing like you, Mr. Titan, because as a leader, I’d choose myself.”
“I did.” His voice is strong but laced with emotion. The auditorium falls silent. “I did,” he repeats, looking down at his lectern to compose himself. “I made choices that got men and women killed. Men and women with families. With lives in front of them.”
I swallow hard, not seeing my political opponent anymore. Now I see Jude, the man whose dark, haunted eyes reach straight into my heart.
“I’m sorry,” I say softly.
He meets my eyes for a brief second, and I see emotion swimming in his. It almost looks like regret.
“I’m no career politician,” he says to the audience. “But haven’t we all had enough of those? I think it’s time to elect an average person who’s worked for everything he’s got. No one’s spoon-feeding me answers or underwriting my campaign. This is just me, asking you to give me a chance to lead for you.”
The audience applauds loudly. I want to refute what he said, but I’m afraid to. I don’t know unequivocally that my father hasn’t seen to donations into my campaign. He’s told me he hasn’t, but he wants me to win so badly that I wouldn’t put it past him.
I’m gutted. I just got my ass kicked out here. That was the defining moment of the debate, and the momentum stays with Jude until the end. I keep my game face on, but it takes everything in me to remain composed. For the first time in this campaign, I want to cry angry tears. Jude is gaining on me, and instead of being the cutthroat badass IthoughtI was, I secretly fawn over him just like all the other women do.
Jude’s playing me. My weak spot is him because he wanted it that way. I feel like such an idiot for letting him set me up privately and then knock me down in a televised debate.
When we shake hands at the end of the debate, I still see emotions swimming in Jude’s eyes. I do what I have to do, posing for photos and doing two interviews before I go back to my small dressing room. And once there, I close the door and sit down, burying my face in my hands.
I’m falling apart, and the one person who could comfort me is also the reason I feel this way. I’ve never felt so backed against a wall—or so completely alone.
Chapter 15
“You killed it tonight.”Carl’s almost buzzing with excitement as the crowd slowly migrates toward the exits of the auditorium. “Didn’t it feel amazing?” he asks and punches me playfully in the shoulder like he’s shed ten years from his life.
“Yeah.” My head’s nodding, but it’s a complete lie. There wasn’t much about the debate that made me feel amazing. I loved the response of the crowd, but I could see Reagan slowly slipping into herself, falling into my shadow at my side.
