Now he’s scowling and I hate that he looks worried. “Like threatening to out me if I don’t deliver votes?”
“Maybe. I don’t have hard first-hand evidence, only a lot of really strange coincidences and related accounts that aren’t easily explained away in any other permutation. Just look up the books and film documentaries about them. Their existence isn’t a secret. You help them, you end up protected and helped in return. But that always comes with a price. Never be afraid to play them for your benefit but make sure in the process you don’t give them any dirt to use on you.”
He throws back his head and groans. “Dammit, why did I ever run for the House?Fuck. I should have run for county commission or something.”
“Whydidyou run?” Because I am curious why this man who is definitely not a political animal managed to get himself elected.
He tells me about the governor backing him over the incumbent.
That they didn’t even care Elliot was a Dem says a lot about how desperate they were to get the incumbent out of office.
“I just want to make a positive impact for people like my parents.” His soft, gentle tone rips at me. I can’t even imagine him as a politician, much less as a soldier trained to kill and actively taking lives. “Between the corporate farms, and the stupid trade wars we’re still suffering from in Nebraska, it’s killing family farmers. Bankrupting them.
“The people in our area aregoodpeople, hard-working farmers. And for years, it’s felt like the government has been intent on strangling them out of existence, all while running on being ‘family values’ and suckering farmers into voting for them. That’s what finally made my mind up for me, knowing people like my parents are at the mercy of the banks, of farm bills being passed, subsidies being allotted, and agricultural bailouts being offered.”
I reach down and brush the hair back from his forehead. “You’re too good for this city,” I softly say. “Please, don’t let it change you. I know that’s difficult to manage, but try to imprint this conversation in your soul and refer to it when things get hard. We need more people like you in office.”
He nuzzles my hand as he stares up at me. “I wish I had as much faith in me as you do.”
“Stick with me, and I’ll work on that for you.” That reminds me. “Stay there, pet. I’ll be right back.”
“Where are you going?”
I grin. “Got a little something I want to see you wearing this weekend.”
Chapter Ten
Now
By the time I’ve caught a ride with Secret Service and returned to the White House, you’d never know I just had an emotional breakdown of thermonuclear proportions in my lover’s house—who happens to be the vice president of the United States, no less—and puked my guts up in his bathroom.
You’d never know I stuck a wet washcloth into his freezer before I finished repacking his bags for the trip and then held it to my face for a few minutes to help reduce the swelling and redness around my nose and eyes.
You wouldn’t have a clue that I dug eyedrops out of his toiletries kit and dumped a bunch into my eyes to help take the red out.
The Leo Cruz who returns to the West Wing is put together, calm, collected, and looks nothing like the man who only an hour earlier was a fucking wreck, and who definitely couldn’t have been mistaken for a current or former Secret Service agent, had someone seen him.
Thank god no one saw me like that.
Especially Elliot.
I need to suck it the fuck up. My actions landed me in this predicament. I was weak, I shouldn’t have let Elliot make the sacrifice of being poly, and I damn sure never should have dragged Jordan into our messy universe.
Elliot does need me, and I cannot abandon him.
Iwill notabandon him.
Elliot’s still in meetings, so I head to the East Wing to have a quick chat with Chris. He’s in his office and when I motion, asking if I can close the door, he nods. I shut it behind me and then take a seat in one of the chairs in front of his desk.
He closes the lid of his laptop. “What’s up?”
I take a deep breath. “I need to ask a favor, sir.”
He grins. “Again?”
I’m not smiling, because Ihateto ask this.
I hate even more what prompted the ask in the first place. “Yes, sir.”
