Jordan’s face flashes into my mind, the tears in his eyes the last time I saw him.
Struggling against the renewed torrent of anger and grief threatening to swamp me, I lift my gaze from my phone and focus on Elliot.
His gorgeous blue gaze briefly flicks my way before darting forward again. Lines crease his handsome face, deeper ones than when we first met some twelve years ago and he was still a freshman congressman and not the vice president of the United States.
He gives me another subtle head bow that’s been one of our silent cues for years.
I tip my head to him in response.
Lifting his travel mug to his lips, he refocuses his gaze outside the window, on the streets and buildings of DC.
Inside, I’m struggling not to scream, to cry.
To grab him, shake him, and beg him to quit fucking keeping me trapped in limbo.
To sayfuck itand walk away from the life I’ve tried to build—and rebuild—for myself.
Jordan’s last words to me echo in my brain.
Elliot needs you.
I wonder how long those three words will keep me going and keep me from blowing everything up and sayingfuck it?
Chapter Two
Depending on the circumstances, I’m frequently summoned into the SitRoom, or asked to accompany President Samuels inside. I have the necessary security clearance.
I’m hopeful they will exclude me today.
If I’m lucky.
I love Elliot but there’s nothing more frustrating than being in a situation where I basically have nothing to do except stand in the wings and stare at him.
It’s like sandpaper rubbing against my soul, slowly grinding me down.
Especially over these last two weeks.
Once we reach the White House, I drop back as Elliot limps inside while saluting the guards flanking the entrance. In fact, I don’t even go inside with him. I step out of the flow of foot traffic and pause outside, where I pretend to scan e-mails on my work phone.
I need more than a moment to myself, but I can’t take that right now.
Shae, Chris, and Kev know what’s going on between me and Elliot, and have for years. They’ve known since before the day they tapped him to be veep that Elliot’s gay, that he’s deep in the closet, that he insists on staying there…
And that he belongs to me.
Me? I’m not in the closet but I’ve never made a big deal about being gay, either. Secret Service agents tend to play everything close to the vest as part of our training. I might not be Secret Service any longer, but I spent enough time working in the private security sector that it wasn’t difficult to fall back on my training and keep myself as low-profile as possible.
Which was a big help when Chris brought me aboard to work for Shae as her body man during her campaign for president, while she was still a senator.
It was almost as good as working The Shift. For the first time in several years, my life once again felt like it had a sense of deeper purpose.
It wasn’t an accident Shae chose Elliot to be her running mate. In part because of his attraction as a veteran, and his education, and backstory, yes. They’d added him to their short-list of VP candidates before they hired me to work for them.
But he landed the job because ofme, becauseIvouched for him.
Because they trusted me, and I promised them I could control him and make sure he didn’t fall out of line.
Standing outside the White House, I’m mentally tracking how long it’ll take Elliot to get downstairs and safely ensconced in the SitRoom with Shae and Kev. Only once I’m certain he’s down there do I head inside.
