He gently kneads the back of my neck. “Want me to call him right now so you can tell him yourself?”
Terror grips me and I shake my head without dislodging his hand.
He rests his forehead against mine. “I won’t walk away from you, El. I promise.Ever.”
Except while I know he means thatnow…
I also realize that might be a promise he’ll be unable to keep. That maybe even Leo’s irrational levels of love and loyalty for me might have afuck-itpoint.
Somehow, I need to get my poop in a group and de-ass my fucking head before I lose these two men.
CHAPTERSIX
NOW
Even with myfull schedule my mind drifts to the fact that I’ll get to spend time with Leo tonight.
Years ago I managed to ditch my fears about losing Leo. I know I won’t, especially with Jordan sharing my bed every night. The main source of my personal fear now is about our future together and how I can best do right by the two men I love without ruining my career, other candidates’ election chances, or alienating my parents.
Now that I occupy the office I chased for years it’s Jordan who allows me to actuallydomy job. If not for him and his energy, his focus, his strength—his selfless, irrational levels of love and loyalty I thought only Leo could possess—I could not maintain the level of functionality required to adequately perform my duties.
Had I known then what I know now I never would have run for president. I damn sure would have turned down Shae’s offer to be her VP. I would have served in Congress for one or two more terms, retired, gone to work in the private sector as an economist or lobbyist, and eventually married Leo.
Except…Leo and I both love Jordan. Had I given in to Leo years ago, dropped out of politics, and married him so I could have the happily ever after I always craved, we wouldn’t have Jordan.
Not to mention I would have always wonderedwhat ifwhen it came to the question of earning my father’s respect.
Where my guilt used to be that Leo spent so much time alone because of his love for me, now my guilt is that I cannot bring myself to confess to my family and the greater world at large that these two men are the loves of my life. They are my strength and my grace, my blessings.
I am a coward. Still.
This is something I feel in every step I take because had I been braver years ago, had I been honest, had I been able to stand up and become my own man instead of engaging in a fruitless pursuit of some unattainable ideal entrenched within me as a child, there would be men alive today who sacrificed their lives in a desert halfway across the world.
Mymen—men in my command, my responsibility.
And it’smyfault those men are dead and that others were injured.
Which is something I’ve never been able to confess the full truth about to anyone, not even Leo and Jordan.
War hero. Decorated combat vet. Wounded soldier.
Those are words frequently spoken by others about me. Words that always make me cringe and fill me with self-loathing because I’m a faker. It cranks my debilitating imposter syndrome to stratospheric levels and amps my guilt even higher.
Maybe it’s karma that I’m now responsible for all the soldiers who wear the uniforms of our various military branches. The sleep I lose over their safety. The visceral terror I experience whenever I make decisions impacting their lives and service.
It’s penance I know I must pay.
A knock on my study door snaps my focus back to the present. “Come.”
The door opens, revealing Jordan. “Mister President, are you ready for your next meeting?”
Nodding I stand, trying to suppress my pained wince as I do. The incoming cold front that swept through DC late yesterday has ratcheted my pain levels higher than I first thought.
Thank god I skipped my workout this morning or I might not even be vertical right now.
Jordan steps inside and pulls my study door shut. “Do you want me to have your wheelchair brought down?” he whispers.
“No,” I grumble. But when I start for the door Jordan won’t step aside like he normally does.
