Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110809 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 554(@200wpm)___ 443(@250wpm)___ 369(@300wpm)
I stop at the windows and look toward the lights of the White House. A pang echoes through my chest. Juno is there. Candice, too. I’d even like a chance to see Vince in all his grumpy glory. But I can’t visit them no matter how badly I want to. Juno’s warning was clear. But did she know how much it would hurt? We’ve always been so close, even when I was in med school. Even when she was on the campaign trail. This separation is as painful as it is confusing, as it is terrifying.
Loneliness isn’t new to me. But the aching rawness of whatever danger Juno is in, coupled with my semi-exile, is a weight that seems to grow heavier each day. How am I going to handle days, months, maybe even years of this? Of not knowing why this is happening or what I can do to help her?
“Ugh!” I press the heels of my palms into my eyes and rub.
A doorbell rings.
I spin and look around. “I have a doorbell?” I ask the quiet apartment.
“Dr. Clark. May I come up?”
I follow the sound of the voice to a small console in the hallway. Gage appears on the screen, an easygoing expression on his face.
“Sure,” I say. But he doesn’t seem to hear me. There’s a button beside the screen, so I press it and say ‘sure’ again.
This time he nods. “I already have access to your floor, but I didn’t want to waltz in uninvited. Be there in a few.”
Well, isn’t that refreshing? After Valen’s constant barging in, this is a nice change of pace.
I turn toward the elevator doors, then wonder if I should try to change clothes. I’m wearing sweatpants and an old Care Bears t-shirt that’s seen better days. I wasn’t expecting company—no one except Valen, anyway.
The doors open before I have a chance to move, and Gage strides in, a paper bag in one of his hands.
“Hi.” He gives me his confident smile.
I should probably chide him for not wearing a mask, but I have to admit it’s nice to see his face.
“Hey.” I give an awkward little wave. “What’s up?”
He raises the brown bag. “The boys and I got a lucky requisition, and I figured you might want to share.”
“Depends on how lucky we’re talking.” I eye the bag, silently hoping for chocolate or something with caramel or even pears. Hell, I’d take a grapefruit at this point if it means I get fresh citrus.
“Where’s the kitchen?” he asks.
“This way.” I lead him down the hall. “Welcome to the Washington Suite. It’s for fancy folk only, so please mind your manners.”
He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.” He puts the bag on the counter and reaches in. “Tada,” he says as he pulls out two bottles of beer, each label stamped with the outline of a naked lady giving a salute.
I raise a brow. “You brought me alcohol?”
He shrugs. “I thought you might like it, but if not—” He makes to put the bottle back in the bag.
“Don’t be hasty.” I reach out and grab it from him.
His smile reappears, a dimple showing up in his left cheek. “I figured you’d enjoy one. The brewery only has enough ingredients to make small batches. I can’t promise it’s as good as one from the old days, but it’s better than the homemade swill you can get around these parts.”
“I won’t look a gift beer in the hops.” I dig around in the drawers and find a bottle opener.
“Allow me.” He takes it from me, our hands brushing for a moment. Then he opens both bottles.
“To science.” He holds his up.
I clink mine to it, then we both take a swig. Hoppy, maybe a bit more bitter than what I used to drink before the plague, but damn, it’s not bad at all. “Nice.” I smack my lips.
“Agreed.” He takes another swig and loops his finger around the bottleneck in that particularly masculine way. “Now tell me how I get to live in digs like this. Did I miss out when I got my degree in IT and went to Officer Candidate School or what? I guess I should’ve been a doctor.” He sighs.
“No, you should just have a sibling who’s president. Easy as pie.” I take another swig, enjoying how oddly normal this seems. Just having a beer with a friend. But is he really a friend? I guess he’s more like a spy, but he’s helping Juno. He’s on our side.
“I’ll have to work on that.”
I realize I know nothing about him. In the short time I’ve been here I’ve learned Aang has a boyfriend just outside of San Francisco, Gretchen misses her pet cat Artemis, Evie can twirl a fire baton and left a bevy of men and women longing for her when she left Johns Hopkins, and Wyatt plays guitar—badly. But I haven’t gotten to know Gage. Of course, I did try to get to know my Secret Service agent: attempt DOA.