40. Roni

Thirty sutures in my thigh. A dislocated shoulder. Two broken ribs. A concussion, major blood loss, and a whole bunch of other shit I couldn't remember because of the concussion.

"You're lucky you're alive, to be quite honest." The doctor leveled me with an expression of concern and disbelief. Her red hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, and her warm brown eyes bore into mine. "You're sure he has nothing to do with it?" She looked over at Diego's sleeping form. "I can quietly have him removed if you want." He'd been standing guard over me since he checked me into the hospital last night. His removal was the last thing I wanted.

The trip into Anchorage had been agonizing. The adrenaline had finally worn off, and I felt every bit of my injuries. I'd lost consciousness three separate times, according to Diego. Even worse, the townsfolk had been horrified by my condition as Diego full-on sprinted down the street with my limp body in his arms with his friends at his side.

I shook my head. "No, he helped save me. If it weren't for him, I would be dead." We kept the story simple. I fell on my own arrow while hunting. I removed the arrow and then tripped and fell down the cliff and into the river as I was going back to our cabin to get help. Accidents like that must have happened often enough in Alaska because everyone I retold the tale bought it, up until now. Dr. Hawkins was the first one to even give it a second thought.

She still looked skeptical but thankfully moved on. "You're going to need to take it easy for the next eight weeks or so. Should be easy to do in the White House."

I winced, because I'd lied about my name when I was admitted.

"How'd you figure it out?" I asked. I felt my cheeks turn pink from embarrassment.

"I may live in Alaska, but not under a rock. Everyone who has treated you here knew who you really were; they just respected your need for privacy. Now that you're stable, is he going to let anyone tend to his injuries?"

We both looked at Diego. He had a scabbed-over cut to his cheek, his wrist was swollen, his shirt was full of blood from his chest wound, and he'd limped his way into the hospital following behind my gurney.

I looked back to Dr. Hawkins. "Probably not, but I'll do my best to convince him."

She stared one more long moment at Diego, likely as drawn to him as I was. "Please do." She pursed her lips, and then she was gone. Then there was nothing but the sound of beeping hospital machines and Diego's quiet snores.

I'd spent enough time with Diego to know that he didn't snore. "You don't have to pretend to be asleep. She's gone."

Diego's eyes remained closed as his lips widened into a tightlipped smile. "How'd you know?" he asked.

"I've slept next to you every night, and not once have I heard you snore."

His smile widened as he opened his eyes and met mine. "How are you feeling?"

"Pretty good. These pain medications are no joke. How are you feeling? You really should let them at least look you over."

He shook his head. "I've been through much worse. I'm fine. You just worry about getting better." He gave me another assessing glance. "You might feel okay, but you still look like hell."

I smirked because I knew he meant well. "You sure know how to give a girl a compliment."

"Among other things," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

I blushed, because what else was I supposed to do? My appearance was rough, and yet he was undressing me with his eyes.

The beeping on my heart monitor increased in pace, giving away the fact that just a suggestive glance from him made my heart race.

There was a knock on my door and it sent my heart racing again. I hoped it might be one of his friends, here with a change of clothes for Diego, and maybe some food. He needed it, and the hospital food was shit. Even worse than the dehydrated stuff we'd picked up in Anchorage when we first arrived in Alaska, and that's saying something.

In the doorway, a suit stood. We made eye contact, and he entered the room, looked around, and then beckoned to another suit. My stomach sank, because I knew exactly who was about to walk through the door, and I wasn't ready—not yet. I didn't have the opportunity to plan out the ass-ripping speech I was going to give him.

One he so desperately deserved.

"Veronica!" My mom shoved past my dad and came to stand next to my bed and grab my hand. "I was so worried!"

I glanced at my dad, who still commanded the space, even though this wasn't about him. Typical. "Veronica. How are you feeling? How is the staff treating you?" He cleared his throat. Most people would never know, but that was his nervous tell. He was nervous to talk to me.

Good. He had every reason to be.

"Much better than my own family has. I didn't need weeks of surviving and self-reflection in the Alaskan wilderness to come to that conclusion." I hit him with a poisonous glare to really hit the message home.

My mother flinched, looking wounded. My father nodded to the suits, sending them away. Then he looked over at Diego, giving him the same silent demand.

I shook my head. "No, he stays."

"No, this is a family-only discussion," Dad countered. His eyes held a hard edge.

"Oh, you weren't worried about family-only discussions when I wanted to discuss my future. You were fine to subject four suits to our back and forth. Diego is family now. He stays." I put the same hard steel behind the last words, something I'd seen Dad do so many times prior. "Or you can be the one to leave."

Dad's eyebrow raised in shock and confusion, then he turned to Diego. "I thought the contract said not to get romantically involved with my daughter. That's a breach of contract."

I scoffed.

"Fucking typical. You really aren't happy unless you have a fist-tight control over every aspect of my life. While you're at it, want to schedule my next period and my next shit, too?" My words were a hiss filled with hate, the only way I was able to deliver the words without shouting and making a scene in the hospital. I would have rather had this conversation in private, like in the back of the Beast. The partition between the front and back completely soundproofed the two parts of the vehicle.

My mom gasped.

"Don't worry, Dad, that part of your little contract won't hold up in court. I came onto him, and you legally have no right to control my love life, especially in a contract. I can't believe you'd stoop so low…"

He tried to defend himself. "Actually…"

"Dad, shut the hell up and listen to me for once in your fucking life! Stop being the president and just be my dad." I lost the anger that had been fueling me; instead I was left with nothing but despair that I had to ask my dad to be my dad. "I like Diego. He kept me safe from the large number of people that were coming for me. People who were after me because of you. Be grateful, tuck your tail between your legs, and then let me be me…"

His mouth fell open in shock. While I'd always given him an attitude and pushed back against his demands and orders, I'd never talked to him that way. I felt the weight of the world lift from my shoulders as soon as I spoke the words. I should have done it ages ago. I shouldn't have cared about the consequences. The relief from the crushing pressure would have been worth it.

I truly fought for what I wanted, and whether he accepted that or not was his problem, not mine. My only regret was waiting this long to knock him down a peg.

My dad looked between Diego and me. Diego sat with his back straight and gave me a subtle nod. He had my back no matter what I said.

Then he surprised me. "I love your daughter, sir. The same things that you might call flaws are the same things that I've come to appreciate. Since I've left the army, I've been here and there, looking for a purpose. She's the first thing that's truly fulfilled me, and I would die for her. Not because you've paid me, but because that's what you do for the ones you love. You protect them." The last sentence sounded like a condemning accusation.

Diego reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He emptied out all of the cash in the worn leather. "This is all of the money I have on me. I'll get you the rest of the money." He paused as he put the money in my father's hand. Which was a ballsy move, to touch the president without being invited to. "That's how serious I am about her. And if you truly cared at all about your daughter, you'd let her find love and relationships without your influence. On her own terms, not yours." His quiet delivery of the words spoke volumes about how much he meant them, how sincere they were.

My mom had sat open-mouthed as she watched the exchange between the two, a single tear sliding down her face. "Honey, he's right. Take a look at her. Really look at her." My mom grabbed my hand and squeezed gently. I felt her gaze on my face, and then my dad's as well. "We've steamrolled everything she's ever wanted. She's supported your career in her own way, even when she didn't want to." She swallowed hard as she gave me a small smile through the fresh stream of tears that ran down her face. "Sure, she rebelled a little here and there, but she's been on her best behavior at every event you've forced her into attending."

She squeezed my hand again and pushed my hair behind my ear, fumbling over the oxygen tube that was tucked behind my ear. I could see the sincerity of the words she was about to say; the regret was so deep, the Titanic could have sank in its depth. "I've been thinking a lot since you've been gone. Do you know how hard it is to turn on the TV and watch the country speculate on what exactly happened to the president's daughter? Hearing them spout out the horrid possibilities really put things into perspective for me."

My heart skipped a beat, and the monitor gave me away. Only Diego looked at the monitor and then silently sent his support with his eyes. I'd been waiting for this moment from my parents, an apology, an acknowledgment—a heartfelt promise to do better. One they'd actually keep.

"Roni, I'm so, so sorry. I know I've been a shit mother to you for the past few years. I got really caught up in what I thought it meant to be the president's wife and what image we had to project as a family. I thought it meant blindly supporting what your father wanted, but now I know how misguided that was. I lost a piece of who I was, too, and that ends today. The White House created this false sense of security that I've hidden behind. To see that security shattered within, it woke me up. I'm so sorry, Roni. I'm going to do so much better, and when your father screws up, because we know he's far from perfect, I'll keep him in line." She laughed at the dig. "You deserve to live the life you want. You've wasted enough time living in your father's shadow."

Roni. She's using my nickname.

She's being sincere.

She listened.

I felt a moment of joy as she stared at me with tears in her eyes and a small, sincere smile. I squeezed her hand. "Thank you," I mouthed. The emotion was overwhelming, and it choked me up. I was unable to do anything else.

My dad stared at the two of us for what felt like hours before he cleared his throat. "I suppose now is a good time to tell you that after my term ends I'm stepping away from politics." He took a deep breath and then sat down at the edge of my hospital bed. His hand rested on my sheet-covered leg, just above the ankle.

"I'm sure you know it pains me to admit that I'm wrong, but I will. Your mother is right." He looked between the two of us. "I began tallying up my regrets right after I learned Nina was murdered. I shared my condolences with her father and he shared his regrets with me."

Dad's face looked pained. He'd done so much to school his emotions since he first held public office, I'd nearly forgotten what he looked like when he wasn't being the politician. When he had emotions and he showed them.

"He wished he'd done more, spent more time with her, talked to her about her passions. He learned more about his daughter at her funeral by speaking with her friends than he'd learned from his daughter in the year before her death." He swallowed hard and squeezed my leg. The tears that formed in his eyes did something to my insides that I didn't want to admit. I'd been waiting for this moment, but seeing my dad eat his words didn't feel like I thought it would.

"I was so close to the same unfixable situation. Death is absolute—not even the president can turn back time." He wiped away at a tear before it could make it past his nose. "I'm sorry, I should have listened to you. I forced you into a law degree, and I forced you into the box of a picture-perfect family. And as your father I should have been the one to keep you safe until someone came along and wanted to take over the job—a future husband. I failed at that, I did." He paused. "And that will always be my biggest regret—what I've put you and your mother through." He glanced over at Diego. "But at least I did one thing right. I recognized that I couldn't protect you and brought in someone who could—who did. Thank you, Diego Garcia."

My dad removed his hand from my leg and offered it to Diego. Diego leaned forward and shook his hand. With that, the pieces of my life were finally mended.