And Leo makes Elliot happy.
I left my personal cell here today, on the charger. I unplug it and look at it.
Nothing new from Leo.
No calls, no texts.
This is what I asked for, right?
But what do I reallyneed?
Problem is, I don’t know exactly what it is I need from Leo anymore.
* * * *
Sunday morning is an early one, and I’m dragging because I had nightmares. Both from what I saw in the SitRoom that morning, and nightmares about losing Elliot, or Leo, or both of them.
We’re on the move before dawn, takingMarine Twoto a park not far from the venue in Virginia, where the motorcade will be waiting. It’s a little farther than the Secret Service feels comfortable letting Elliot travel the entire distance from DC by motorcade, and it’s way too short to takeAir Force Two, hence the helo.
Did I mention Elliotdespiseshelicopter travel?
Understandably, because it reminds him too damn much of what happened to him in the service, but it needs to happen.
Today, he’s having trouble keeping his game face on, from the moment he salutes the Marine manning the steps when we board the helo. I see the tension in his neck, his shoulders, and know if I try to touch him and help, it’ll only make things worse right now, because we have campaign staff flying with us.
And, yeah, I find myself wishing Leo was here to help me keep him calm. Because when we finish here, we’re hopscotching to another event farther south of here in Virginia, and then a third, before we fly back to DC. At least the other two events are being held at airports, so no drive to and from a venue.
When we land in Virginia, I already have the burner out and ready, dialing Leo from the Signal app as we trudge across the damp grass to the awaiting vehicles.
Please, let him answer.
Leo sounds half asleep. “El?”
Relief!“It’s me. Talk to him. Just got offMarine Twoand getting in the motorcade. He’s not doing good.” Before Elliot can react, I put the phone in his hand as he ducks inside the vehicle, and then it’s just the two of us in there because I make the campaign staff who flew with us pile into other vehicles.
We have a ten-minute ride. Elliot spends all of them on the phone with Leo. I don’t know what Leo’s saying, because he’s doing most of the talking and Elliot’s responses are mostly,Yes, Sirs.
I try not to pay attention while I go through my e-mail on my work phone.
When Elliot ends the call and hands the phone to me after I give him a wrap-up signal, he looks invigorated.
“Thank you, Sir,” he whispers.
I give him a head tip and he returns it, a playful smile quirking his lips.
Then we’re pulling up outside the arena and it’s game on. Elliot’s mask is now firmly in place as we climb out of the car, and from there it’s organized chaos for the rest of the day.
Even if I didn’t want to reconcile with Leo, this is more proof, right here, that I have to do it for Elliot’s sake.
Doesn’t matter that Elliot said he’d walk away too if I did.
Iam going to need Leo as backup. Either for Elliot or for myself, sometimes probably for both of us.
Somehow, I have to make it happen.
* * * *
We’re both exhausted when we return to the residence early Sunday evening. I have no texts or calls from Leo on my personal phone, and I’m not certain how that makes me feel, exactly.
