“No. Still think you should run for the House first.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“It’s not about fun, it’s about winning.”
“Pretty sure I can win though. Sympathy for Hux is still high, and with your help…”
There it was. He wasn’t calling for Lowell’s advice. Cabot wanted him on his staff. Of course he did. But as much as Lowell enjoyed a challenge, he also didn’t like to play for a losing team and there were no guarantees Cabot would win that Senate seat.
“I don’t know, Cab,” he hedged. “I’m going to have to think about it.”
“What the fuck do you mean, think about it? What is there to think about? This is what you do, this is who you are. We all have our roles to play.”
Lowell had never really bristled under the expectations of his family. It was like Cabot said; they all had roles to play, positions to field. If someone decided to up and not do theirs, everything fell apart.
It had been a fucking nightmare when Hux had had his heart attack, and not just because he’d nearly died. Technically died and then been revived. It had left a hole in their family dynamics no one was sure how to fill.
Yeah, he missed being so deep in the game that it consumed his every waking and most of his sleeping hours, but he had to admit there was pleasure he’d been missing out on, and it hadn’t been the worst thing in the world to take a breath.
He had always assumed he’d go back at some point—for real, not the sandbox politics of Holland’s mayoral campaign—but now that his number had been called up in the draft, he wasn’t sure he was willing to fight in this war. But that was the thing about a draft, wasn’t it? You didn’t get a choice.
Cab’s observation that this was who he was had needled an especially vulnerable part that he tried his best to forget was even there. Because really, what else was there? He was a snake in a suit or some other vicious predator like a wolverine or a shark. If the beast of prey was gone, what did that leave? An empty suit.
“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft like Hux. I never thought of him as a quitter, but…”
Cabot left the rest unsaid but Lowell could fill in the rest of the sentence:but he fucking well is, and isn’t that humiliating? He should be ashamed of himself.
Knowing what Hux had given up to carry on the family legacy when their father died had always given Lowell some level of sympathy for his brother, but he had to admit seeing his twin with Tamsyn had made him deeply understand the sacrifice Hux had made in a way he couldn’t have fathomed before.
Hux had appeared to be a natural born politician, but he could see now that his womb-mate had really been meant to be a little girl’s daddy. And the three of them? Nothing was righter in the world.
One of the things that enabled them to do this was being out of the public eye. Not that anyone gave a shit about him, Lowell, as an individual. But if he was back in the inner circle of the Foster-Webb political dynasty? Not to the same extent as he had been as Hux’s twin but he’d still be Cabot’s brother, and therefore a person of interest in the media’s eyes again. He couldn’t risk his family’s reputation by continuing to be involved in their threesome.
The thought of losing his little girl made his stomach lurch, sudden and violent and sour. Nah, that couldn’t be it. He wasn’t as besotted as Hux, couldn’t be. Probably just indigestion from so much physical exertion following the spicy étouffée that had been served as the main course at dinner. That must be it.
“Leave Hux out of it,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair.
“Yeah, I know that pussy’s never coming back. So you can’t turn into a little bitch on me too.”
Lowell shook his head, rolled his eyes. He’d grown out of his casual misogyny a long time ago but at this point he doubted Cabot ever would.
Poor Nuala, what had that woman been thinking? Who the fuck knew, she’d never said much of anything or seemed like much more than a cardboard cutout of a proper political wife who stood beside his idiot brother no matter what. Well, they all made choices in life, didn’t they?
But he wasn’t going to make this one right now. Especially not with a little girl in need of aftercare in the other room.
Yes, he had complete faith in Hux to take care of her, but he didn’t want her thinking he’d shirk his own duties to her. He might be an asshole but he was also a responsible top, and besides, he didn’t want to get lectured by his twin because it was really fucking annoying.
Hux was one of those “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed” types and Jesus fuck would Lowell rather get punched in the face and get it over with.
“Show some respect. He’s your brother and he’s done more for our family than you ever have. Why do you think you’re even in a position that running for Senate isn’t just a joke? Rising tides and all that.”
“Oh come on, we all know he wasn’t getting anywhere without you. Now that he’s gone, it’s my turn. Do your shit, kingmaker.”
Cabot should know flattery got people nowhere with him, but talking trash about his twin would put a person on his shit list faster than they could say Foster-Webb.
He ground his molars together, but he couldn’t deny that getting back into cutthroat politics was appealing. Being of use was appealing.
“I will do whatever the fuck I feel like. What I feel like is taking a hot shower, jerking off, and then going to sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”