“Go with Richie! Get the fuck out of here, Lena!”
Christ, I’ll never forget the helplessness, the despair. The panic. The fear. And how the rain fell so hard, in sheets, soaking us all to the bone and making Gideon’s blood run faster.
I whimper and then slap my hand over my mouth and play it off as a cough.
“Something in my throat.”
“Lena . . .”
“You should have stayed for the food. It smelled good.”Do not cry. Do not cry.“I’m just going to clean a bit, if that’s okay? Maybe later I’ll take a nap.”
That’s a lie. I won’t nap because I’ll dream, and that can’t happen today.
“You don’t have to clean my house.”
“I know.” My voice sounds so cheerfully fake that Gideon’s eyes narrow. “It’s all good—I like it. I can’t sketch, and I can’t play the piano, and I can’t listen to music because I don’t have access to any electronics—”
“Fuck.”
“—so I’ll clean. I can’t cook, though. Never got the hang of it, and the chef at the White House always chased me off. I’d order in, but I don’t think DoorDash is a thing in the boonies, and we swing back to the no-electronics thing. Otherwise, I’d put a pot roast in the oven or something, but it would burn and then your house would stink, and no one wants that.”
I can’t stop babbling. Someone make it stop!
“Lena.”
“I’ll see you later.” I shoot him the fakest smile I’ve ever given anyone, even when my mother was running for president, and then turn away so he can’t see my face.
Why do I feel like I’m breaking?
This is stupid.
This isso stupid.
I’ve had so many horrible things said to me in the seven years that my mother has held office that I let it roll off like water on a duck. Itneveraffects me. Death threats, men describing in detail what they want to do to my body—you name it, I’ve heard it. Hell,Gideonhas heard it because he was there with me.
So why now? Is it because I felt safe with Gideon, and I wasn’t expecting it? I should never assume that just because I can relax a little I can let my guard down with anyone.
I learned that a decade ago.
Dragging the feathers up the handrail, I decide to clean my bedroom, where I can close the door and justbefor a while.
Because I’ll lose it if I have to be in a room with Gideon for even one more minute. And I’ll want him to hug me, and I know that he won’t do that.
I don’t remember the last time anyone did. I never see my parents. Chelsea isn’t a hugger. And I don’ttrustpeople.
Once in my room, I close the door and take a shaky breath, and then let the tears come.
You’re the little girl who hurt my guy.
Fuck.
Why did he bring me here? Why couldn’t he have taken me literallyanywhere elseto hide? I know there are safe houses, and places that are off the grid that don’t involve his family. I don’t want to be here.
I’ll demand to speak with my mom or Bishop and ask to be reassigned. I just have to get through the next year of Mom’s last term, and then I can disappear. I’ll have no obligations, and I can do whatever I want.
No security detail.
No reporters.
