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ChapterNine
Reese
Then
Canada is a blur. Maple leaves, smiling faces, and me eyeballing Walker every other moment.
His itinerary is limited, most of his time focused with the prime minister. I’m his body man for this trip, and when we’re on the move, we’re inside each other’s shadow.
Just like I said we’d be.
The sun seems to burn out of Walker, because every time he’s near, I’m broiling over. So hot I feel like glass on the verge of shattering. Completely transparent, too. This turmoil, this prickly anxiety. Everyone must see it. Everyone must see how I can barely look at Walker, how stepping beside him makes my hands clench into fists, turns the back of my neck as dark as a blackberry lily.
The Service doesn’t befriend the president. Ever. This job is easier when you don’t care about your principal as an individual, when you’re not personally invested in who they are as human beings. Most times, the principal helps you along in not giving a shit. We’re furniture in their worlds. The potted plants, the ugly side tables.
But President Walker is… different.
There’s something he’s keeping drawn tight and hidden from the world, like he’s got a live wire wrapped around his soul.
I’m different with him, too. The way I look at him is different. How I approach him. How I treat him.
How I think about him.
Dangerous thoughts swim in the waters of my mind.
I don’t want to know that Walker is kind and friendly one-on-one. I don’t want to know that he watched that pull-up contest long enough to count how many Nuñez and Roberts each managed to crank out, or that he’s been generous to my team all day, trying with grace to apologize for the interruption and the skyrocketing blood pressure he caused.
I don’t want to know that there’s something between us. Something that makes my bones too large, my skin too tight, my heart too frantic.
I should slip Henry into the lead slot. I should put distance between us. I should not chase this tumult, or try to name these feelings President Walker stirs up inside me.
I should do a lot of things, and none of them include hanging out with Walker in his office on Air Force One, trading jokes and gentle banter.
The rational part of me knows that whatever this is, it’s nothing good. Not for him, not for me.
No one needs lightning to strike their lives. I don’t need to know why the storm is coming. I just need to get clear.
But the charge in the air is rising. The thunderheads on the horizon are building into a hurricane.
I don’t know where this is leading, or what’s hiding inside Walker’s eyes, or why both being and not being around him makes my chest ache.
I should stay away from him.
He’s different.
Dangerous.
* * *
We were late takingoff from Ottawa thanks to Walker and the prime minister getting along like brand new best friends, and we didn’t get back to Andrews Air Force Base until after midnight. Henry and his team met us there with Marine One to take the president to the White House while my team stood down on Air Force One.
My people were wound tighter than screws twisted past their threads. All day, Walker made it a point to look them in the eye and smile and say hello and to thank them as often as he could.
His friendliness helped and hurt. Helped: they were able to unclench their sphincters bit by bit. Hurt: they were thrown by his friendliness, and that keyed them all the way back up. If Secret Service agents are one thing, it’s suspicious—of everything. Especially a smile.
When I got back to the command center, around three a.m., I changed the duty roster to move my travel team out of the White House and give them an in-office day in the Eisenhower Building. That’s code for Go take a nap.
As for me, I’m back at the White House before eight. First up for the day, a travel debrief with the president.
