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“I thought you’d be asleep.”

She shook her head. “I didn’t expect you’d sleep much, so I figured I’d keep you company.” She handed me a steaming mug and then walked into the living room, where a couch and love seat angled toward the radio.

Peter snored softly in the adjacent room.

Eva sat on one end of the couch, tucking her feet under her. She’d changed her clothes. I motioned to my change of clothes, and she pointed to the open hallway door on the right, the bathroom.

After washing and putting on fresh attire, I felt human again. When I emerged back into the living room, she held her tea with both hands in her lap and stared out the window into the darkness.

If she’d had nightmares before, there was no question she’d have more after today.

“So why the Senate?” she asked.

I blinked, grabbed the mug I’d set down, and then sat on the other sofa, mindful of the space between us and appearances. If there’d been rumors about us before, what would they say after I stayed overnight in the same house?

Only her safety, and that of the twins, mattered right now.

“It was Kenneth who brought it up.” I leaned my elbows on my knees, holding the mug. “I’d been trying to think of a business to start or an organization that might help some of the guys. It was after—” My voice caught and I cleared it roughly. “After we lost someone who shouldn’t have died.”

Her jaw flexed, and she pressed her lips together.

“Kenneth has some major initiatives he wants passed through into national legislation. Our unit, they came from all over the country, so it could impact them all. I don’t care for money or power,” I said. “I just want to do something, anything, to help.”

“I know you do,” she whispered.

Did she? Why did I feel like I needed her approval? I also wanted her to talk me out of this somehow.

“I bet you always knew what you wanted to do in life,” I said, motioning to the room around us. “Train horses?”

She took a sip and nodded.

“I’m jealous of that. I’d always rambled, wandered, and ducked out of whatever responsibility my father flung my way.”

She smiled. “Until the Army.”

“Yes. It all clicked.”

“Why didn’t you stay in the service?” There was no judgment or accusation in her tone.

“I wanted to find a way for us not to get into another war.” I shook my head. “I don’t care to be a part of so much death and destruction ever again.”

“Well,” she said softly, “I’d vote for you.”

Why didn’t I believe her? She was sad in a quiet way that I simply didn’t understand.

She swirled her cup and stood as if to get more, and I followed her back to the kitchen. “Eva?”

“No, Warren,” she said, refusing to turn or look at me.

“No, what?”

“No, I can’t do this.”

“You keep saying that,” I said. I turned her gently to face me, holding on to the faintest of hopes. I brushed her cheek with my thumb and wrapped my other hand around her waist, holding her close. “Give me a reason to stay here, and I’ll withdraw from the race right now,” I whispered.

She melted into me, her face lifted to mine. Uncertainty raged in her blue eyes and strained features.

“I nearly lost you today,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “The world looks different to me now.”