Chapter Fifteen
Now, Four Weeks Until the Gubernatorial Primary
When I first met Owen and Susa, I would’ve told you the three worst days of my life were, starting with the first-place tie, the days I learned my brothers died, followed by that day in the desert, when I threw my body over my men and I nearly died. The day of the school shooting later became a close contender.
Later, that worst-day designator also became tied with the day I received the phone call that Susa’s plane went down.
Everything in my life is placed in context to those events.
I’m alive.
My wife is alive.
My husband—and I consider Owen my husband, even if he isn’t in name or legal standing—is alive.
Our children are alive.
We’re all reasonably healthy.
I would, without hesitation, lay my life on the line to protect any of my loved ones.
So when the next hit comes, four weeks before Susa’s primary election in her run for governor, it literally catches me off-guard and threatens to destroy everything we’ve worked so goddamned hard for.
And it’s frommyfucking past.
A past I’d assumed dead, buried, and living only within my nightmares.
Even though my job is in Tallahassee, at Owen’s side, I still have ongoing work for the Tampa law firm, which means time spent down there, on occasion. I hate the times I have to travel alone to Tampa for work, because it means I literally can’t reach out and touch those I love while I’m away from them. I can’t walk into Owen’s office and lock the door.
I can’t walk into Susa’s and do the same.
I can’t go home and hold our sons.
I have to sleep alone, which I rarely have to do anymore.
Sleeping alone is nearly always accompanied by nightmares. Owen’s busy running the state, and Susa’s busy with her work and the campaign, which means I have to go alone.
I definitely wasnotprepared to receive a terse phone call from my father-in-law, asking me to stop by their Brandon house that afternoon.
As in, he wants me there ASAP, even though he doesn’t couch it in those terms.
He doesn’t need to. I can speak subtext as well as the next politico. Since he never summons me like this, I have a really bad suspicion I need to get it over with quickly. I didn’t even realize they were in Tampa this week—I thought he was up at their Tallahassee home.
I excuse myself and head there to find him alone at the house.
“Where’s Michelle?” I ask after he lets me in and gives me a quick handshake in greeting.
“Out. I sent her on a grocery run. You’re welcome.” He’s leading me through the house to his office.
Those last two words fill me with growing dread. “Why? What happened?”
No reason to beat around the bush or engage in time-wasting bullshit. Whatever this is must be worse than bad, and likely has something to do with Susa’s campaign for governor. Benchley’s been in the game longer than I have and wouldn’t call me over like this for something petty or stupid.
It must be something serious that threatens what we’ve built.
Don’t get me wrong—I hold no illusions that my father-in-law views me more as an adversary than family. But he tolerates me because I’ve proven myself and my love for Susa and our boys.
Also, since that tape I have on him has never so much as leaked, he knows I’m a man of my word. We have never spoken of that day since it happened, but we both know it’s still there, and it has guided the path of our relationship ever since.
