19. Anthony

Chapter 19

Anthony

Ranya dropped her carry-on bag at her feet and sat in one of the fake leather chairs with a huff.

“Security hassle you again?” I asked.

She nodded, cursing under her breath as she took out her phone. “Motherfuckers. You’d think they’d never seen a brown person in their fucking lives.”

“People are idiots,” I said.

“All of them.” She looked at something on her phone’s screen, then dropped it on top of her bag. “It’s fucking roulette when I fly. Sometimes they just give me the evil eye, and sometimes…” She grumbled something I didn’t understand, possibly in her native tongue, and shook her head before adding, “Glad to know all the trouble I went to for my citizenship was worth it.”

I drummed my fingers on the edge of my notebook. “Our options are a little limited, but maybe we can try scheduling things so we’re doing more driving than flying. You know, a little less going to San Diego one day and the Bay Area the next.”

Ranya waved a hand and shook her head again. “Don’t worry about it. I can deal with it. It’s just, you know, aggravating.”

“I can only imagine.”

She sighed. “What can you do? I have to fly sometimes. Maybe sooner or later these idiots will stop fucking with everyone who had the audacity to be born in certain parts of the world.”

“You have more faith in humanity than I do,” I muttered.

She looked at me. “People can change.”

“They can. My lack of faith stems from how infrequently they do so.”

“Pessimist.”

“I am. Always will be.”

“Why is that?”

“I’ve spent my whole life hiding part of who I am because other people can’t deal with it,” I said. “And dealing with the fallout if they find out. After a while, it’s hard to have much faith in people’s willingness to change, you know?”

“And I’ve spent the last decade or so not being able to hide who I am.” Her bracelets jingled as she gestured at her face. “Or rather, not being able to hide who people think I am.”

“With all the hassle you put up with, I’m surprised you’re not more jaded or bitter.”

She shrugged. “Maybe I’m just an eternal optimist. I mean, nine times out of ten, when I fly, people give me the hairy eyeball, pick through my luggage, and stop just short of a body cavity search. It’s almost impossible for me to get through airport security without feeling violated on some level.” She took a breath and leaned back against the seat, draping her arm over the back of the next one. “But once in a while, someone scans my ticket, looks at me, goes through all the same motions they do with everyone else, and then they let me go…just like everyone else. It doesn’t seem like much to other people, and it doesn’t happen very often, but it does happen. And I guess it makes me think there’s hope that things will change for the better.” She shook her head and laughed. As she combed a hand through her black hair, she said, “Like I said, I guess I’m just an eternal optimist.”

I rested my ankle on my opposite knee and tapped my fingers on my shoe. “I don’t know. I guess I can understand that. I could probably be accused of being the eternal pessimist, so…”

She laughed softly. “I guess we balance out. A fucked-up yin and yang.”

I chuckled. “That’s one way to look at it.”

Her laugh turned into a mischievous snicker. “We can be like the devil and angel on Jesse’s shoulders.”

“Oh sure. And tell me, who would be the devil and who would be the angel?”

“Something tells me you’d be the devil.”

“Me?” I put a hand to my chest and scoffed. “My dear, you are mistaken. I am a paradigm of innocence and virtue.”

Ranya snorted and burst out laughing. “Right. Like I believe that .”

“What? Why wouldn’t you believe me?”

“Because Jess—” She caught herself and glanced around. Lowering her voice, she said, “Because someone likes you just a little too much for you to be anything close to innocent or virtuous.”

I laughed. “You know him too well, don’t you?”

She grinned triumphantly. “Uh-huh. Just a—Oh, there they are. Finally. ” She started to get up. “About time.”

I looked over my shoulder.

A ways down the concourse, flanked by their various security personnel and a flock of starstruck onlookers, Jesse and Simone walked hand in hand.

A pang of jealousy dug itself beneath my ribs. I knew it was an act, but it still killed me every time I saw them like this. Ah, but if they could act, so could I, so I plastered on a smile and stood as they approached.

Everyone exchanged the usual polite greetings. Someone mentioned the joys of security. Jesse and I glanced at each other. The weather came up, as did the flight schedules and the itinerary for this trip and the next one. Jesse caught my eye and sent my pulse skyward. Roger went into a long-winded diatribe about the latest goings-on in the Senate, completely unaware that I’d just fixed my gaze on that spot on Jesse’s neck, that spot where a well-timed kiss or nip could make California’s future governor whimper with ecstasy. The flight attendants announced the plane would be boarding soon, and when every head turned to hang on her every word, Jesse and I locked eyes for a fleeting second before quickly looking away.

Why we tortured ourselves like this, I couldn’t even say. The odd glance was irresistible, but it only made things worse, especially in a place like this.

Ranya was here. Roger was here. Even my assistant, Lydia, was with us today, along with Simone, Dean, and Jesse’s security. The airport was jam-packed, and I was acutely aware of every soul whose presence kept me from launching myself at Jesse. Didn’t stop me from looking around for an unpopulated nook or cranny in which to steal a minute or two of something that could derail this entire campaign in a hurry.

Jesus, I was losing my mind. So much for being a professional around him. At least I convinced myself to keep those nook-and-cranny fantasies in my mind where they belonged. Acting on them, it’d be too easy to get caught. Especially since I doubted either of us would stick to any plan of just a quick kiss or I just need to touch you for a second . Now that we’d crossed a few dozen lines a few dozen times, it was too easy to let a quick kiss or a brief touch turn into something more.

And of course it didn’t help that flights and sexual tension didn’t mix. They so fucking didn’t. If idle hands did the work of the devil, then idle, horny, gay men were an explosion of sin waiting to happen, and there was nothing like the boredom of a goddamned flight to bring both idleness and horniness to a breaking point.

It was probably just as well Jesse and I would be apart this evening. The rally wouldn’t run all that late tonight, and since we were in my hometown of San Jose, I had some plans with an old friend. An old flame, actually. He and I were long since over, having both moved on in the years since we’d split up, but we were still close friends. And I had to admit, if only for the sake of my blood pressure, I was looking forward to spending an evening away from Jesse. Not because I wanted to be away from him—hardly!—but being around him, close to him, when I couldn’t touch him, couldn’t pull him down onto a flat surface and give in to temptation with total abandon was driving me out of my mind.

Fortunately, for the time being, the only maddening idle time we had was here and now on this plane. Once the plane began its descent, my mind shifted into campaign-manager mode. Time to be busy.

And we certainly were busy. We almost literally hit the ground running. Our flight was delayed—weren’t they always?—and arrived just in time for our little mob to make a mad dash across the airport, grab luggage, throw ourselves into vehicles, and get to the afternoon’s rally. The activity didn’t stop, not for a second, until the rally was over and we finally made it to our hotel .

We all went to our respective rooms to drop off luggage, then met in the lobby to regroup. Tomorrow’s itinerary was a simple one—visiting a couple of retirement homes and a formal dinner to cap off the evening—so there wasn’t much we needed to plan or coordinate at this point, but I preferred to get it done tonight.

Once everything was squared away for tomorrow, I said, “I think that takes care of everything. And Jesse, we’ve got to get you ready for the next debate and a few speeches this week.” I handed him a slim binder. “Here’s what I have written so far. Look them over, and we can make any changes as needed. I’ve got everything you’ll need for the debates in one of my suitcases.”

He gestured toward the elevators. “Well, I’ve got time if you do. Why don’t we look it all over now?”

“I would,” I said, glancing at my watch. “But I can’t tonight.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot you said you had plans this evening.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “You have enough to remember without trying to keep my schedule straight.”

He laughed. “You’re not lying.” He held up the binder. “I’ll look this over tonight, then. We can catch up sometime tomorrow about—”

“Anthony?” A familiar voice turned my head, and I couldn’t help grinning when the matching familiar face materialized across the lobby. My ex-boyfriend Slade crossed the room, smiling broadly, and threw his arms around me.

“Good to see you,” I said.

“Likewise.” He let me go and gave me a quick once-over before meeting my eyes and winking. “Looking spectacular, as always.”

“Would you expect any less?”

He rolled his eyes and clicked his tongue. “No, and you haven’t changed a bit, Hunter.”

I chuckled and turned to Jesse. Gesturing at Slade, I said, “This is my old friend, Slade Ralston. Slade, this is Jesse Cameron. I’m running his camp—”

“This is Jesse Cameron?” Slade huffed. “As if I wouldn’t recognize his face from a hundred paces.” He extended his hand to Jesse. “Slade Ralston. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Jesse said with an amused, if slightly taut, smile.

After they’d shaken hands and we’d introduced Slade and Ranya, Slade said to Jesse, “So you’re keeping him busy these days, then?”

Alarm raised Jesse’s eyebrows. “I…um…”

“He’s running me into the ground,” I said. “This campaign is killer.” In a stage whisper, I added behind my hand, “This man’s a goddamned slave driver. ”

Jesse laughed, obviously relieved by the realization Slade hadn’t meant keeping me busy like that . “Hey, you’re the manager. Seems to me you’re the one keeping me running up and down the state.”

I shrugged. “You wanted to be governor. I’m just making that happen.”

“I believe him,” Slade said to me, gesturing at Jesse. “You are a bit of a slave driver, you know.”

“Uh-huh.” I shot him a playful glare, and he just grinned. I glanced at Jesse. His brow furrowed slightly, eyes darting back and forth between my ex and me, like something about the two of us puzzled him.

I cleared my throat. “Anyway, um, Slade and I are going to go grab a couple of drinks. You’re off the hook for the night.”

The confusion in Jesse’s expression flickered to something…different. Angry? Alarmed? Irritated?

Then I realized what I’d just said and quickly added, “I mean, a night or two of not going over speeches and campaign strategies won’t kill us.” I gestured at the binder I’d given him. “In fact, don’t worry about those for tonight.”

“Oh.” He looked at the binder, then at me and forced a smile. “Well, have a good time. It was nice meeting you, Slade.”

“Pleasure was all mine,” Slade said.

Jesse turned to Ranya. “Ready to go grab something to eat?”

“Please. As if you even need to ask?” Her eyes flicked toward me, and she grinned. “I could seriously go for a nice bloody steak.”

I grimaced. “Have fun with that.”

Slade snickered. “You should see how he reacts if you eat a sausage in front of him.”

Jesse and Ranya both laughed, but I glared at Slade.

“Come on, Jess,” Ranya said. “Let’s go before I start making sausage jokes with double meanings.”

“Double meanings?” Slade said. “Or double end—”

“Let’s go,” I said.

He chuckled and fortunately didn’t finish the joke.

All four of us walked out of the hotel lobby. Outside, they went one way and we went the other. Thank God for that. I didn’t need them overhearing Slade and his adorably juvenile sense of humor, and I still needed that bit of space from Jesse before I lost control and threw myself at him.

Once we were out of earshot, Slade turned to me. “So how long have you been doing him?”

My heart stopped, and I damn near choked on my own breath. “What? What are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes and laughed. “Whatever. Come on, you promised me a drink. Let’s go before happy hour’s over. ”

We walked to a bar a couple of blocks from the hotel, all the while catching up on small talk.

“So you mentioned the other night you’re seeing someone,” I said. “And that I wouldn’t believe who it was.” I eyed him. “Try me.”

“You’ll never believe it. Not in a million years.”

“Okay, tell me.”

“You ready for this?”

I reached for the door to the bar but didn’t pull it open. “You want me to buy you a drink, you’d best tell me.”

He grinned—gloated, damn him!—and said, “Eric Grove.”

My jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon?”

“Eric. Grove.” He nodded toward the door. “Now open up. Slade’s thirsty.”

I pulled open the door, and as he walked past me, I said, “How the hell did you hook up with him? Isn’t he—”

“Straight?” Yep, he was gloating. Like no man on this planet, Slade Ralston could gloat. “Well, that’s what he thought. Apparently he was mistaken.”

“Apparently so.” I followed Slade into the bar, and we took seats at a high table beside the heavily tinted window. “Dare I ask how he was enlightened?”

“I have my ways.” He inspected his nails before polishing them on his shirt. Anyone else would have appeared insufferably arrogant, but Slade, while indisputably cocky, was good-natured about it.

Before I could ask any further, a waiter showed up and took our drink order. I ordered a beer, and since I was buying, Slade insisted on a top-shelf martini. I didn’t mind. Whenever he bought, I went for the cognac. Sooner or later, we’d probably come out even.

Once we had our drinks in hand, I took a long swallow of beer. Then I shook my head. “Man, if I had known way back when that Eric played for our team…”

“You wouldn’t have had a chance with me around.”

I rolled my eyes. “Uh-huh. Can’t compete with Mr. Humility.”

“No. No, you can’t. But enough about that.” He threw me a sidelong glance. “Your old friend, huh? Do I embarrass you that much?”

“What? No, you don’t embarrass me. I’m not out, remember? I’d just as soon Jesse didn’t know.”

“Uh-huh.” The corner of his mouth pulled up. “I think he knows very well.”

“He doesn’t .” Before he could insinuate any further about my alleged but totally real relationship with Jesse, I said, “He’s very straight and married, Slade. That, and I don’t date candidates.”

“You’re not going to date anyone at all if you stay in that damned closet, my friend. ”

I gritted my teeth. Slade was unabashedly out to anyone and everyone and refused to apologize for that. I envied him, but sometimes he forgot some of us had reasons for not being out. He knew full well that working in politics, not to mention having a family like mine, meant I wasn’t in any hurry to come flying out of the closet for the whole world to see.

“Okay, so you’re not involved with him,” he said. “And that is such a pity, my God. But are you seeing anyone these days?”

Ooh yeah.

I rested my chin on my clasped hands. “Yeah, I’m…sort of…”

“Well.” He cocked his head and shot me his trademark “I see through you” smirk. “Are you or aren’t you? I didn’t ask if it was serious.”

The heat rushing into my face undoubtedly turned my skin red, and there was no getting anything past Slade anyway.

I dropped my gaze and watched my fingers curl and uncurl the corner of a napkin. “Okay, yes. I’m seeing someone.”

“So,” Slade said with a grin. “Tell me about him. What’s he like?”

I raised an eyebrow. “You really want to know about my love life?”

He shrugged. “Well, we talked about mine. And besides, someone’s taking you to bed. I’m curious about the lucky man.”

I laughed, pretending my face wasn’t on fire.

“Is he cute?”

I snorted. “Please. When have I ever dated a man who wasn’t fucking stunning?”

Slade grinned. “Well, I certainly won’t argue with that .” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Come on, tell me. Details, Anthony. Details! How’d you meet him?”

“We met—” I paused, thinking quickly. “Through a friend. He introduced us. Thought we had a lot in common and would, you know, get along.” Damn. I really had been in politics too long. There was nothing I couldn’t spin into a vague half-truth.

“And? Was he right?” Slade gestured with his glass. “Do you have a lot in common and, you know, get along?”

“You…could say that.”

He watched me for a moment, eyebrows up. Then he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Apparently I have to drag details out of you. Is it serious?”

“Serious?” I laughed, wondering when my mouth had gone dry, and picked up my beer. “I…um…”

“Oh, God in heaven.” He grinned and swirled his drink like a glass of wine. “You’re not in love, are you?”

I laughed again, though it took a hell of a lot more effort this time. “No, no, nothing like that.”

“Okay, then what is it like?” He inclined his head. “And don’t even try to bullshit me, Anthony Hunter. I know you, and not just in the Biblical sense. ”

I glanced around the room, certain everyone within a five-mile radius had heard the comment. “Must you?” I growled.

“Yes.” He set his glass on the table and folded his arms behind it. “Now spill the deets or I’ll say it even louder.”

“I wouldn’t put it past you, you know that?”

“I should certainly hope not,” he said. “Come on. Tell me. How ‘not serious’ is this?”

“Well, I mean…it’s…” I know how to talk. I swear I do. “How serious can it be when I’m not out to most of the people in my life?”

Slade shrugged, letting his gaze drift around the room. “Depends. I can’t imagine not being out, but if I had some reason to be closeted, and some guy came along who I wanted to be with no matter what anyone, including myself, thought…” Another shrug and he slid his gaze back to meet mine. “Then I suppose I could make do.”

I swallowed.

“So.” He tilted his head. “How serious is it?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Well, Anthony?

“Okay, okay.” Slade patted the table with his palm. “Easier question. We’ll work up to that.” He winked, and I had no doubt he fully intended to get that answer out of me before happy hour was over. “What made you want him in the first place?”

“And you think that’s an easier question?”

He laughed. “Well, you’re so methodical and precise about everything. I figured you could nail down the exact moment you realized you wanted to, well, nail him down, and the exact reason. Every man you’ve ever dated, you’ve been all ‘I saw him at whatever club, and he had those jeans on, and I knew I had to have him’ or ‘he said he liked whatever god-awful band, and that was all she wrote.’ So I’m assuming our mystery lad had a similar moment?”

Goddamn it, this man knew me entirely too well. Chewing my lip, I ran through how things had started out with Jesse. Was there a moment like that? When the light came on and I just knew ? Maybe when I watched him and Simone during the photo shoot and interview? When we talked for the first time? During his press conference? Of course I’d realized I wanted him during each of those moments. Or that I was strongly attracted to him, anyway. But it was never a surprise. Never a startling moment of clarity when truth smacked me upside the head and told me something I didn’t know. Each of those moments just reinforced something that was already there, like my desire for Jesse was, even before I was consciously aware of it, innate.

I stared at the table between us, resisting the urge to drum my fingers. “It’s funny, I really can’t remember.” I looked at Slade through my lashes. “It’s not like I can point to any one thing and say I want him because of this, or I want him because of that. I just…do. And have since the beginning. ”

Slade blinked. “Wow, Anthony.”

“What?”

“I’ve known you a long, long time,” he said, “and I have never seen you smile like that while you’re talking about a man.” Before I could deny it, he added, “You’re practically swooning, mi amigo.”

“No, I’m not.” I paused. “Am I?”

He laughed and nodded. “Uh yeah. You so are.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “Props to him, whoever he is. Any man who can tie you down during an election…” He finished the thought with a subtle tilt of his glass, then took a drink.

“Yeah, about that,” I muttered. “Dating during an election always works out so well.” Especially when I’m fucking the candidate of all people. At that thought, the flicker of some sexy naked memory or another of Jesse sent a shiver down my spine.

“And yet,” Slade said, “here you are. Dating during an election.”

“No kidding.” I folded my arms on the table behind my beer bottle. “And you know, I keep thinking there’s a million reasons he and I shouldn’t be together—”

“God, you always were such a romantic, Anthony.”

I laughed. “Always a pessimist. You know me.”

“Uh-huh. I certainly do. Anyway, go on.”

“Right. So there’s a million reasons we shouldn’t be together, but when we’re actually, you know, together…” I trailed off, tapping my fingers on my elbow as I searched for the words. “I just can’t think of a reason not to be.”

“He’s that good in bed?”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course. That’s it.”

“So he isn’t that good?”

“Trust me, he is that good.” I shivered and, more to myself than anyone, added, “He definitely is.”

“And why on earth shouldn’t you be together, then?”

“Well, you know.” I rubbed the back of my neck and sighed. “My job. I’m traveling all the time. I live in hotels more than my own house during a campaign. I mean, you know what it’s like being with someone in my line of work.”

“ Ooh yeah. I do.” He grimaced as he reached for his martini. “Do I ever.” He brought the glass to his lips but paused before taking a drink. “But you and I were never all swoony over each other like you so obviously are.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you swooning over him,” he said matter-of-factly. He drained his drink, then gestured with the empty glass, probably catching the attention of the waiter and no doubt upping the tab by another twelve bucks. Apparently satisfied he wouldn’t die of thirst, Slade looked at me. “Oh, don’t even try it, Hunter. I see right through you. ”

“Then you’re seeing something I don’t,” I muttered into my beer bottle.

“Liar.”

“What makes you say that?”

He rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to speak, but the waiter appeared with a fresh martini. Slade thanked him, took a sip, and when we were alone once more, said, “Honestly? Because you’re balls-deep in this campaign, and you’re still seeing him.”

I gestured casually with my beer bottle. “You and I dated during one of Roger Cameron’s campaigns.”

“And Roger Cameron was a shoo-in running against some ass pickle who didn’t stand a chance against him,” Slade said. “You had to work at getting him elected like I had to work at getting you—”

“ Slade. ” I shot him a “would you keep your voice down” look.

Dropping to a whisper, he said, “You had to work at getting him elected like I had to work at getting you off. You could’ve done it with your eyes closed and a hand tied behind your back. But this kid?” He shook his head and waved with his drink. “No. I know you. You’re running an unproven horse, which means you just barely have time for happy hour with the likes of me, never mind an actual relationship, which means he’s either extremely low maintenance or he’s seriously special.” Winking, he added, “I vote seriously special.”

I dropped my gaze into my beer bottle and had no doubt the rush of heat to my face lit up my cheeks again and undermined any excuse or alibi I might have thought of.

“We have a consensus, do we?” Slade asked with a grin in his voice.

I couldn’t make myself meet his eyes, especially not as the warmth in my face intensified. I ran my thumbnail along the label on my beer bottle, slicing through the adhesive and freeing the edge so I could play with it.

And whether it was because I’d been dying to tell someone all this time, or because Slade had broken some dam I didn’t even know existed, when the words came, I didn’t—couldn’t—even try to stop them.

“I don’t know, it’s weird. I tell myself this is too much headache, and I think it’s a bad idea. All the time. I have this conversation with myself all. The. Time.” I pushed my thumb under the loosened label, concentrating on peeling paper from glass instead of meeting my ex-boyfriend’s scrutiny. “But then we get each other alone, and…” And it all makes sense. And it’s perfect. And no amount of self-lecturing comes close to telling myself there’s any reason I shouldn’t do this. “We get each other alone, and I can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else. But then when we’re around other people, people who don’t know we’re together, sometimes I look at him and I…” I released a breath as goose bumps rose on my arms. “God, I can’t even breathe. He just has this…this…” I made a sharp, frustrated gesture in the air. “Something about him. ”

“Something about him?” Slade’s voice startled me, like I’d forgotten he was even here. When I met his eyes, he grinned over the rim of his martini glass. “Oh, I don’t think it’s something about him.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sweetheart, it’s you . Or rather, what he’s doing to you.”

“Meaning?”

My ex smiled. “He’s got you tripping over your own feet, Anthony. Like no man I have ever seen before. It’s something about him, all right, but it’s you and the way you feel about him that’s got you stumbling and stuttering.”

I took a long drink of beer. Rolled it around in my mouth. Ignored my pounding heart. Wondered when the hell this had happened. When and how and…

I swallowed the beer and closed my eyes. No wonder I’d needed to get away from Jesse for an hour or two. I’d needed a little while to get my feet back under me, and just thinking about him and talking about him, I still hadn’t regained any sense of balance. And as much as I enjoyed Slade’s company, I caught myself craving Jesse’s presence. Even if we couldn’t touch or look at each other like we meant it or admit we’d ever been anything other than platonic and professional, being around him made sense. It worked. Blood pressure be damned, I wanted to be sitting in a bar with Jesse, bantering over drinks like it didn’t matter who noticed.

My gut sank as I glanced around the room. God, what I wouldn’t have given to be able to be with Jesse like this. Out in public, right in view of anyone who cared to look, without dodging cameras or worrying about images. Even if someone bothered to whisper behind their hand or quietly wonder if the two men at this table were together…you know, like together, their speculation wouldn’t go beyond their own conversation. By the time they left and went back to their lives outside this restaurant, we’d be forgotten. Blessed by the discretion that comes with anonymity.

Between now and the end of the election, there was no way in hell Jesse and I could do this. And after the election, then what? Even after he was divorced, as long as he had a career in politics, our relationship demanded a certain level of secrecy.

“ Fun secret to keep, isn’t it?” he’d asked the night I brought up being a skeleton in someone’s closet.

“Ooh, yeah,” I’d said, rolling my eyes. “Loads of fun. That’s part of why I’ve been single for so long. When you work in or around politics, it’s usually advisable to keep things like this under the radar, and most guys get tired of being another man’s dirty secret. Believe me, that novelty wears off quick .”

And when Jesse had flinched, so had I.

“That’s not what I meant,” I’d said.

“Still, we can’t exactly broadcast this. If you want to jump ship before— ”

I’d cut him off with a kiss, and when we broke away, I’d whispered, “The only problem I’m going to have with keeping this quiet is making sure no one hears me when you make me come.”

I’d meant it. Every word of it. But sitting here in a sparsely crowded bar with Slade, anonymous and unnoticed, I couldn’t quite muster the enthusiasm I’d put behind the words that night.

“Hey. Hunter.” Slade waved a hand in front of my face, and I jumped.

“Huh?” I shook my head. “Shit, sorry. I spaced out, I guess.”

He smiled. “Can’t imagine why. You’re so adorable when you’re in love, you know that?”

I laughed, but it took effort. A lot of effort. Just breathing took a hell of a lot of effort when my thoughts weighed down on my lungs like this. “Yeah, well.” I shrugged and reached for my beer. “Guess we’ll see how things go with him. So what’s new with you, besides getting your hands on Eric Grove?”

Slade mercifully went with the subject change, and for at least a little while, I could breathe.