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The voice comes from over my head. My eyes follow the beam upward and dimly make out a team of black-clad men on the flat part of the roof. “Everything all right, sir?”
“Yes. Sorry. I’m exploring. I forgot you guys were up here.”
“We’re here 24-7, Mr. President. For your safety.”
“I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“Part of the job, sir.” The light flicks off. The sniper and his team melt into the night. I can’t see their outlines anymore. I don’t even hear them breathe.
Well, that was smooth. You won an election, right, Brennan?
Embarrassment drives me down the Promenade, as far as I can get from the snipers. Wind slides through my shirtsleeves, and bare branches creak in Lafayette Park.
What am I doing out here?
What would it be like to have someone at my side tonight? Someone I could turn to, someone I could hold close as I try to wrap my mind around everything I’ve thrown myself into. Someone to help me stand beneath the weight that now rests on my shoulders.
What would it be like if that person was Reese?
Jesus. My head sinks into my hands, and I hope those snipers haven’t turned their night vision scopes on me. I’m far from presidential right now.
My moments with Reese, once we were alone, were some of the most human I’ve had all day. Was it because the Secret Service is beyond the presidential pageantry? They’re respectful, of course, but not awestruck. In the briefing, Reese deferred to the office, but when it was him and me…
Am I making this up? Am I so out of practice that I’m imagining things that weren’t there?
Do I want a connection so desperately that I’m misremembering—or misinterpreting—what I saw? What I felt?
Or did Reese feel something, too?
No. Reese threw up boundaries and barricades between us with every word he said. He emphasized the distance, reinforced our separation. Hell, he told me to my face that the relationship between a president and their detail was one of the most misunderstood in the world.
And here I am, falling right into that misunderstanding.
But there were those moments when our eyes met. Times I couldn’t breathe, and I thought I heard his breath hitch, too. Instants when our hands touched, when we shared fleeting smiles—
You buried this.
There is nothing for you down this path, Brennan.
Don’t let your heart run away with dreams that can never, ever be.
