I went to the kitchen and rifled through the refrigerator for the bottle of wine Phillipe had brought me a few nights earlier. He’d taken to coming to visit me in the guest house each night the week Reese had arrived, since I’d been reluctant to spend any time in the main house for fear that I’d upset my son. Gage’s father and I got along swimmingly, and I enjoyed his need to take care of me. For someone of my age, it was a rare thing to be taken care of anymore. My parents had long since died, though it wasn’t like they would have started acting like actual parents so late in the game anyway. If my father had still been around, he’d have probably admonished me for falling so easily out of public life. But Phillipe had a weird way of doting on me, even though he was only fifteen or so years older than me. I suspected it was just the kind of person he was, and a part of me hoped that it was something that would rub off on Reese a bit. He was clearly crying out for the father he needed, and if I couldn’t fill those shoes, someone needed to.
I was in the process of pulling a wineglass from the cupboard when I heard the front screen door slam. I waited for Nash to appear, but when he didn’t, I went looking for him. I found him just feet from the door. He was raking his hand through his hair and there was enough light filtering in from the kitchen to see the tense expression on his face.
“Nash?” I said softly. “Everything okay?”
“Why?” he asked without looking at me. “Why would you do that?”
It was almost like he was talking to himself. But then he looked me square in the eye. “Everett, why?”
Worry went through me because I had no idea what he was talking about. Had I said or done something that had inadvertently hurt him? Upset him? Clearly I had, because he was more agitated than he’d been mere moments ago when he’d been trying to defend me against Reese’s behavior.
“Why what, Nash? I’m sorry, I don’t—”
“You spoke to Director Hill. You told him to investigate the case with the VP’s daughter. You told him you thought I belonged in the West Wing.” His voice grew louder with every sentence.
“I did,” I admitted. Was he upset that I’d gone behind his back? “I didn’t want to tell you and get your hopes up,” I offered in the hopes of mollifying him. “Did Director Hill… was that him giving you an update?” I asked.
“It was him offering me an assignment on the First Lady’s protection detail.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. I’m so happy for you—”
“Why the fuck did you do it, Everett?” Nash yelled. “Just tell me why!”
I had no clue why he was so upset.
“I thought that was what you wanted,” I murmured. “You deserve it, Nash. You never should have been stuck babysitting me.”
Nash moved toward me, then stopped. He was once again by the back of the couch. He began lightly bumping his fisted hand on the back of it. I wasn’t exactly afraid of him, but I did back up just a little so I could lean against the doorframe leading to the kitchen. I wanted the extra support so I could deal with whatever came next.
Because I was completely clueless.
“You did it for me?” Nash asked. “Why?”
“I told you why, Nash—”
“Why else? There has to be a reason. Did you just want to get rid of me?” he asked. “Is it because of what I did to Gage? Did I scare you?”
“What?” I asked as I straightened. “No! I talked to Director Hill after we left Montana. It was the night I told you I was going to decline Secret Service protection. I never wanted to get rid of you. In fact—”
My words dropped off as soon as I realized what I’d been about to say.
“In fact, what?” Nash asked.
I shook my head, but that didn’t satisfy him, of course. He strode right up to me and I automatically took a step back, hitting the wall behind me again.
“In fact, what?” Nash asked, more gently this time.
“In fact, I didn’t want you to go,” I admitted. God, was I really doing this? “When I saw you waiting for me the next morning, I was glad. I wasn’t sure how you managed to talk Director Hill into meeting my demand that only one agent accompany me—”
“I didn’t,” Nash whispered. He held my gaze for a moment before repeating the words. “I didn’t, Everett.”
“What do you mean?”
“I knew he wouldn’t have gone for it. Like any job, agents have to be given a certain amount of time off. There are occasional exceptions, but not for any length of time.”