Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 111086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111086 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
Well, bleed harder, since it seemed like there was a gaping wound in my chest that had never healed and probably never would.
I knew it was seeing Nathan and Vincent together for the first time a week earlier that had set off my need to be physically close to Pierce, but I wasn’t sure I understood the why of it. When I’d still been in office, Grady had gone through great pains to sneak me and a limited number of agents out of the White House late each night so I could go to the cemetery well after it had closed. Sometimes I’d talked to Pierce, sometimes I’d just soaked in the silence of the evening air.
There were times that it had almost felt like Pierce and I were sitting on that porch he’d promised me, swaying lazily back and forth in a porch swing, his heavy arm draped over my shoulder, his warmth seeping into my side as I pressed up against him. I’d inevitably be cruelly returned to reality when Grady would stir me from my stupor and remind me that we needed to get back.
I’d hated Grady in those moments and I’d unfairly unloaded all my rage and bitterness on him – as if he’d been the one keeping me and Pierce apart in the years before Pierce’s death.
And my friend had let me do that to him without any kind of hesitation. Even on the few occasions I’d physically lashed out at him in my grief, he’d urged me on.
Because he’d known it was the only outlet I’d ever have.
There were just too many secrets that had needed to be kept.
About me.
Vincent.
Even Pierce.
But there had come a time when even having Grady stand in as a metaphorical punching bag hadn’t been enough…
“Mr. President?”
I shook my head to clear away the dark memory that threatened to overtake me and climbed through the door Nash was holding open for me. I didn’t bother waiting for him, even though I knew he preferred it when I did. I had no clue if it was protocol or not, but Nash liked to check the house himself whenever we arrived back at it. The agent who worked the evening shift would have already had eyes on the house all night, but Nash was Nash.
But I also wasn’t in the mood. I just wanted him gone.
Just gone.
Fuck, in truth, I wanted everyone gone. I wanted to stop pretending I was okay and just find a bottle of whatever alcohol I happened to have on hand and crawl into it and never come back out.
As I walked, motion detection lights lit up the area around me.
“Sir, just a moment,” Nash called from behind me, but I ignored him. The younger man had no trouble catching up to me, of course, and he put his hand out to stop me and said, “I’ll just do a quick check.”
I put up my hand.
“No,” I snapped. “Just go, Agent Nash. The house is secure. I’m secure. You did your job.”
I knew I was being a prick, but I didn’t care. I just wanted some peace and quiet so I could get on with my pity party.
“Mr. President, I have to insist—”
It was the steadiness in his voice that did me in. I was a fucking mess barely keeping it together and he sounded like a goddamn robot.
“You know what, Agent Nash? This,” – I swept my arm between us – “is done. Your services are no longer required.”
If I hadn’t been looking at him, I would have missed it.
Because it lasted a mere second.
This look that came over him – at first it was shock, but then it quickly shifted to despair.
Like I’d actually… hurt him.
That didn’t make sense. Why would he take me no longer accepting Secret Service protection so personally?
Unless…
Before I could even complete the thought, Nash said, “That’s your prerogative, Mr. President. But you’ll need to contact the agency in the morning to request a new agent. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to do my walk-through. If you’ll wait by the door, please.”
His expression cold, he brushed past me and used his key to unlock the door.
“Nash, hold on,” I began, but he ignored me and disappeared inside. I hurried after him, but didn’t manage to catch up to him until he’d reached the kitchen at the back of the house. Helga always left the light above the sink on, but not surprisingly, Nash turned the overhead lights on too as he began checking the room for anything unusual. He practically ripped the pantry door off its hinges. He disappeared inside briefly and nearly knocked me over when he stepped back into the main room. His lips were drawn into a tight frown as he jammed the door shut behind him.
I was standing in his way, so he didn’t move any farther.