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“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure your PT meant to walk when he was with you, so…let’s take this as a dry run and you can do the real thing when he gets here later.”
Garrett looks like he’s going to argue. The fact that he decides not to is just more evidence that he’s not feeling well.
“We’re not done talking about this,” my father says as I guide Garrett back through the door.
“You may not be done talking, but I’m done listening.”
“You’ll do what I tell you to do, boy.”
The look I shoot him over my shoulder would have dropped a lesser man in his tracks. “I’ll do what I think is best for the country. It’s my job, after all, and not even you are going to be able to pressure me to do something else. So back the fuck off before I walk out the front door and take Garrett with me.”
“Don’t make threats you aren’t willing to follow through on.” My father fol
lows us out the door, puts himself directly in our path.
I think of Savvy, of how much easier it would be if I was just an ordinary guy. Think of Garrett, and how much better he would be if he didn’t have to recover, didn’t have to face what had happened to him, all while being in the public eye.
“If you think I won’t follow through on this, then you don’t know me nearly as well as you think you do. Now get the hell out of our way, old man, or you’re going to learn exactly what a mutiny looks like.”
Chapter 31
Savvy
“I don’t know what to do. I feel so fucking helpless, you know?”
Kian’s pacing back and forth across my living room, looking more upset than I’ve ever seen him, and I have no idea what to say to make things better.
Getting off the sofa where we were both sitting before the inactivity got to be too much for him, I catch him halfway between my front door and the hallway that leads to my bedroom.
Wrapping my arms around his waist, I pull him into me. Hold him tight. And whisper, “Sometimes the only thing we can do is be there for someone.”
“I know that. I do.” He holds me for several long seconds, but then his feelings get the best of him and he starts to pace again. “But I can’t even do that right. You should have seen Garrett’s face when my father said that shit.”
“Do you think it was really a surprise to him?”
He turns to stare at me incredulously. “Well, it sure as fuck was a surprise to me. Garrett’s the heir—always has been, always will be. I’m just the spare.”
“I hate when you call yourself that.”
“Why? It’s true.”
“You make it sound like you’re expendable. And you’re not.” This time when I catch up to him, I wrap my arms around him from behind and hold him tight, forcing him to stand still.
“I’m a lot more expendable than Garrett is.” He slumps back against me, like somehow it’s easier to admit these things if he doesn’t have to look at me. “I’m not going to let my father do this to him.”
“Maybe everyone’s getting ahead of themselves,” I suggest, in between pressing soothing kisses to his silk covered shoulder. “Has Garrett even had a chance to see a psychiatrist yet? Or a counselor?”
“He’s seen both. He’s not talking to anyone.”
“So maybe you should just give him a few more days before you or your father bring the subject up again. I mean, he’s still healing, correct?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
“So he can’t do the job right now, anyway, which means the whole argument is moot, at least for now. Give everyone some time and then you can revisit—”
“Time isn’t something I’ve got right now. Can’t you see that? The press are chomping at the bit, as is parliament and the public. Everyone wants a look at Garrett, and there’s no way I’m parading him around like some carnival prize until he’s good and ready.”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying—”
