Or, maybe Carter and Susa will end up freezing me out because the things scrambling through my deeper brain are too strange and out there for them to deal with once the details eventually bleed through and take over.
Which is another reason why I know their talk about getting me elected is a joke, even if they don’t know it. Guys like me don’t get elected.
Not if they’re smart.
Because guys like me, they can either be happynotbeing elected…or get themselves elected, attract attention from everyone, and risk being outed and totally humiliated—or else they shove themselves deep in a miserable closet. Because if they don’t, their lives until that very public downfall are filled with fear and self-loathing, waiting for the inevitable disclosure.
It’s a hell of a choice, because they can’t be both.
Either/or.
I would love to be governor. I’d love to be elected and help my state.
I wouldnotlove that closet, or living with the constant fear, and I couldn’t bear a public downfall.
At some point in this journey, if Carter and Susa stay with me long enough, I’ll have to talk them out of their insane plans to get me elected. Susa is the politician, and I’m smart enough to know that. I’ll be happy working my ass off helping her reach her goals. She will do great things, and only an idiot wouldn’t see that.
I am a lot of things, but an idiot isn’t one of them. I have the test scores to prove that much.
I’m also not strong enough to handle today alone, and it’s the first time I’ve ever had someone in my corner to help me through it.
I don’t know if I can ever find the words to tell Carter how much this means to me, or how much I appreciate him doing this.
Let’s hope it’s not the last time he wants anything to do with me.
Chapter Fifteen
I spend the rest of the morning trying to study, trying to keep my mind anywhere but on tonight. I’ve ironed my shirt and slacks, as has Carter.
Carter offers to drive us over in my car and let me take over when we’re close to my mom’s house.
I gratefully accept that offer.
We head downstairs to leave for Orlando around two. I’ve been obsessively checking a traffic app so we won’t get caught in Disney snarls that will make us late and guarantee my mother’s ire. We can always cruise around Orlando to kill some time and deliver us to her doorstep exactly on time.
Carter wears slacks, a long-sleeved dress shirt with cufflinks, a tie, and has brought a blazer, which he carries over his arm. His loafers are shined to perfection and the creases in his slacks are perfect.
Helookslike an attorney. I know I’m dressed to an acceptable level to placate my mother, but next to Carter I feel like a slob, even though I shaved and I fussed with my tie for so damn long that Carter finally walked over, lightly swatted my hands away, and retied it for me.
Part of me is glad Susa isn’t going with us, because seeing Carter dressed like this will only make her fall harder for him. Hell, I’m straight and I think the guy looks hot—broad shoulders tapering to a V above his narrow hips. But he’s not muscle-bound like some of the guys we encounter in the exercise room from time to time. He looks like he could easily work his way through one of those TV ninja course competitions, svelte and lithe and barely breaking a sweat as he did. Restrained power contained by the corporate wrapper he now wears as naturally and effortlessly as he wore the desert camo and keffiyeh in that picture on his bulletin board. If I didn’t know his history and hadn’t seen his scars or how badly pain hits him on some days, I’d think he was still a warrior.
As we reach my car, I hit the key fob and open the driver’s door for him without thinking. It’s kind of become our thing now, and I don’t mind doing it. He seems to enjoy it, as does Susa.
Yes, I’m a people pleaser. Igetit. This has become like a drug to me, and little things such as this give me hits. Or doing the dishes, the laundry—anything like that.
I don’t fuckingcare. I make no apologies for it, because it’s a survival tactic, and it’s not hurting anyone. Not like he’s leading me around in public on a leash or something.
He hands me his blazer to stow with mine in the backseat before taking a minute to adjust the seat, the mirrors, all of that. He’s wearing his dark sunglasses today, and when he looks over at me, I know I’m seeing both a preview of the attorney he’s going to be one day soon, as well as echoes of the Army veteran.
With the AC cooling my car’s interior, he softly ticks off a few points on his fingers. “I want you to let big brother be in charge today. Donottry to manage my relationship with your mother, because I’m an adult and can handle her. Donotstress over what I say to her, or what she says to me. If I say we leave, weleave. If atanytime you feel overwhelmed, donothesitate to come find me and tap the side of my foot with yours, even if I’m talking to someone.”
“We don’t need a code word or something?” I’m not even joking at this point.
“No, because if you just need a few minutes to pull yourself together and I break out the medicine excuse then, the evening’s over. The medicine excuse is my nuclear option.”
“I can’t believe you’re actually going with me.”
He cuffs the back of my neck, something he’s done several times before, either playfully or while we’re talking, but it’s one of those things I can’t begin to explain how good it makes me feel. Probably due to being starved for even innocent physical contact.
