Hundreds.
From a DC number, and when I page up to the beginning, my heart stumbles.
Unknown number:God, I miss you.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Settling into the bed, I change the contact information to “Rebel,” and then start to read every single message from my girl.
Chapter Thirty
Gideon
Every single day, my Rebel sends me texts. They haven’t stopped. I also haven’t replied.
I want to tell her everything that I have to say in person. I want to hold her and bury myself in her, my nose in her neck, and never let her go as I explain in precise detail how fucking badly I’ve missed her.
I’m a shell of a man without her.
But I’m on my way to her. With every mile this plane takes toward DC, my anxiety lessens. I’ll see her tonight.
I only have to endure a few more hours without her.
And then, I’m never letting her go again. I’ve also been in contact with the president, and I’ve made it clear that I’ll do whatever I need to do to make sure that Lena is mine. Even if that means I have to leave the ranch and move back to DC to be with her.
Because this life doesn’t work without her in it.
Settling into my seat in first class, I open the phone and page back to the beginning to read all her messages to me. I’ve read them a hundred times at least, and could likely recite them from memory, but it calms me to read her words.
Just as I get to the end, a new one comes in.
Rebel:I wish you were here.
I’m coming, baby.
I’m coming.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lena
My texts started being delivered sometime after the night of my birthday. My heart flew into my throat when I opened the text thread and saw that little worddeliveredat the bottom of the page. And every day since, I’ve been on pins and needles, waiting for him to reply. Or to call me.
Anything.
But he’s been silent.
So I’ve continued as normal, sending messages and talking to him, sharing my thoughts and feelings, and every day, they’re delivered.
Why isn’t he responding?
“You must be excited,” Mom says as she sips her coffee. “You’re hardly speaking. I’m so proud of you, sweetheart. I know this showing is going to be a huge success. I wish you’d let us scream about it. I wish you’d useyour name.”
I shake my head and set my phone down, then turn my attention to my mother.
It’s the morning of the show, and we’re having breakfast together. Mom and Dad won’t come tonight because it would be a security nightmare, and I’m honestly okay with that.
