Grace shoved two fingers up against her forehead, praying the pressure would keep the room from spinning. She’d been foolish the night before, coming home and opening the bottle of red wine her sister had thoughtfully stocked in the kitchen months earlier. Her plan had been to consume one glass, just enough to stop the agony from expanding in her veins, making an explosion seem inevitable. A blast that would end with parts of her body all over the room. It appears she just…exploded. That’s what the coroner would say to her parents as they swept her up in industrial-sized dust pans from Costco.
A hysterical laugh bubbled from her lips, escalating the throbbing in her temples until she felt sickness rise in her throat. She bent forward, positioning her head between her thighs. Breathe. Breathe.
It was difficult—really difficult—considering all the eyes trained on her. She’d been woken by her father and asked into the living room, surprised to find half a dozen staffers loitering there. Even now, after they’d been talking for five minutes, she’d gathered no real information about what they wanted from her. What could anyone want from her, the morning after she’d had her heart sliced apart? It hurt to be awake, let alone communicate. Had she said hello? Offered them coffee? No…no, she was in a bathrobe trying not to cry or throw up or explode.
That was all.
Where was Aaron? Had he left already?
A pitiful sob shot from the pit in her stomach, but she caught it with a balled fist, sitting back up and focusing on her father. Her father, whom she recognized less and less every time she saw him. Weren’t fathers supposed to notice when their daughters were sick and…help? Do something to make it better? Because she was sicker than she’d ever been in her life, only none of the symptoms were visible. She wished they were. She wished for wounds.
“Uh…” Grace pulled her bathrobe tighter, crossing her ankles the way she’d been taught, but rarely ever did. “What is this about? Can you start over?”
Her father’s shoulders drooped with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll just get to the point quickly, since we’re not in a listening mood this morning.” Tempering her outrage with patience—not easy with a pounding head and a dry mouth—Grace gave a quick nod and her father continued. “The tragedy at YouthAspire. For years, you’ve been asking to have your presence that day acknowledged. I want to give you that. More than that, I want you to come out of the shadows. To take more of a visible role in this campaign.”
A few of the cobwebs cleared, just enough to allow hope and…confusion to trickle in. “I don’t understand. Now? This morning?”
“That’s how things work in this world, Grace. Timing isn’t always convenient, but when an opportunity is handed to you, taking it, seizing it, is key.”
Was he making a speech? Grace panned the room, taking note of the air of expectation. The paused animation. As if they were all waiting to spring into action, her father included. She suddenly wished for Aaron so bad, tears boiled behind her eyes. What was going on here? “You’ve never wanted my name associated with what happened. Why…” She swallowed, dreading the answer to her next question. “How did you want to proceed?”
“Well.” He straightened his tie. “I think you know everything I do these days will be pounced on by the media, so we believe the best course of action is to approach the reveal head on.” He took a few steps in Grace’s direction, crouched down, and took her hand. “I don’t want you to feel hidden away anymore, so I’ve arranged for a quiet interview this morning. Nothing flashy or over the top. We’ve already approved the questions and they’re nothing to be afraid of.” He patted her arm. “But if you don’t want this—”
“No,” Grace rushed to say, startled by the rare display of affection. “I guess I just don’t understand what everyone else has to do with this.”
“Grace.” Her dulled senses wouldn’t allow her to decide if her father’s tone was warm or…patronizing. “We have to handle everything delicately, make sure we send the right message to the public.”
“I don’t want to send a message,” she whispered. “I never needed that.”
A knock on the door. The way everyone reacted with suspicion made Grace hyperaware of the thick tension in the room. Had it been like this since she walked in? What did they really want from her? Another, more insistent knock, followed by a familiar voice shouting her name, sent Grace’s heart into a tailspin. She shot to her feet, kicking off a renewed round of hammering at the front of her skull, but she was too relieved, too…high to care. High on the sound of Aaron being there.
Her father didn’t look the least bit excited at Aaron’s arrival, nor did he look surprised. Grace didn’t have time to examine that reaction, though. Letting Aaron in, whether or not she looked like flaming shit, was first and foremost in her mind. He wouldn’t care how she looked. He wouldn’t care. But when she attempted to bypass her father’s stiff form and head for the door, he wrapped a hand around her elbow. “Go let him in,” her father instructed one of his security detail. “Sit down,” he said to Grace, before softening the command with a smile. “Please.”
Seeing no choice but to sink down onto the cushions, Grace kept her attention trained on the entryway, waiting for a glimpse of Aaron. She got it a moment later when he rounded the corner, searching her out with wild eyes. Grace’s anxiety spiked over his dishevelment. Wearing the same clothes as last night, he looked pale but determined. Until he saw the room full of men and drew to an abrupt halt, visibly bristling.
Golden brown eyes, no less brilliant in their exhaustion, seesawed between her and the gathering of suits. “What the hell is going on here?”
Anger showed in her father’s expression. “My daughter is not your business, Clarkson. Not anymore.” He checked his watch. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”
Aaron didn’t bother to answer, clearly still stuck on his initial question. “She’s in a robe, in her own living room, surrounded by men. If that’s not my business, it should at least be yours.”
Caught up in the situation, she’d forgotten about her abbreviated attire, but looking down now, she noticed how her hands clenched in the material, holding it over her breasts and neck, grip shaking.
“But while we’re on the subject,” Aaron kept going, his gaze transferring to Grace and reassuring, softening. Softening in a way she’d never seen. “It’s up to her if she still wants to be my business.”
Grace started to rise again, ready to dive over the couch to reach him. Maybe his meaning—be my business—was still slightly unclear, but she knew Aaron. She knew the look on his face meant something big. Something huge. And she needed to get close, to help him let it out. Her father put a staying hand on her shoulder, and although she attempted to brush him off, what he said next kept Grace rooted to the spot.
“All right, Clarkson. You were given your chance to make this easy, but you’re putting me in a spot here.” The room braced expectantly, including Aaron, who she could see was trying to cover his sudden nerves. It’s okay, she wanted to shout. Everything is okay as long as you’re here. But her father popped the dialogue bubble she was trying to send Aaron’s direction. “I don’t mind admitting you’ve become valuable to me, Clarkson. I need you on my payroll. But when you stepped into my family’s affairs, you crossed a line. I’m just going to see you back to the other side, so we can resume business. Nothing personal.”
Her father’s hand felt like caked cement on Grace’s shoulder, so she sidestepped, watching it fall away slowly, as if it drifted through water.
“Grace.” Her head came up at her father’s prompt. “I’m trying to give you what I—as you father—have wrongly denied you so long. I shouldn’t have made the decision to erase your name from something that turned you into such a strong young woman. Aaron is here because, as someone who works for me, he doesn’t think shedding light on your experience a wise political move.”
“That’s bullshit,” Aaron ground out.
Grace’s father tilted his head. “Are you denying that when I suggested bringing Grace’s experience out in the open, you claimed she couldn’t handle it? I believe your exact words were, ‘She can’t retain the kind of coaching we’d need to put her through.’ You asked me if I could honestly imagine her on Diane Sawyers’ couch, which incidentally is where she’ll be sitting this morning.” The ensuing pause was deafening. “Did I fabricate anything you said?”
Beneath Grace’s feet, the ground turned to rubber. Or was it her legs? Standing became an effort, but she refused to allow the twisting in her heart to continue, banishing the weakness. Don’t break. She wouldn’t break. Not when Aaron was imploring her so desperately with his eyes, ignoring everything but her. That connection between them was so strong, her father’s accusations had only made the tiniest ding on the exterior.
“I said that to protect you, Grace. I didn’t want them to throw you to the fucking sharks. I still don’t.” He shifted, hands lifting, as if trying to grab the invisible lifeline extending from him to Grace. “I’m sorry for saying those things. I’m sorry, but you know I didn’t mean them.”
Warmth slid down Grace’s spine. She did know. Both her heart and gut were screaming a reassurance at her, louder than the dissension in the room aimed at Aaron. And she was going to do something she hadn’t truly been capable of since Ray Solomon. She was going to place her trust wholly and irrevocably in a flawed human being. Come what may, they were in it together. Forcing Aaron to see the good in himself had made Grace realize something. She’d spent a long time learning to trust her instincts again and now was the time to believe in herself. By believing in Aaron.
She’d doubted him once, comparing Aaron to a monster, and it had been the worst mistake imaginable. Hurting him again was out of the question. This man she loved couldn’t have fooled both her head and her heart. And when she nodded at Aaron, allowing a small smile to turn up the corners of her lips, he fairly staggered toward her. I was right. I knew I was right.
“Aaron was fired from his last position in California, Grace. Are you aware of that?” Aaron’s forward progress slammed to a stop and so did Grace’s pulse. This. She’d forgotten about this one little mystery. The one she’d suspected all along had been Aaron’s main reason for pushing her away. Without thinking, Grace reached out and tugged her father’s jacket sleeve, intent on asking him to stay quiet, to tell him that whatever it was didn’t matter, but he plowed ahead regardless. “He slept with his boss’s wife. A senator’s wife.”
As she watched, Aaron grew haggard, defeated. His eyelids dropped to hide any access she had to his mind, shoulders deflating. A hand came up to cover his mouth and he turned away, already gone. She could feel the absence of his energy so profoundly, it hurt worse than last night’s good-bye. As far as the information her father had imparted…she didn’t like it. She hated it. Loathed it. The idea of Aaron with anyone beside herself? It didn’t compute. It didn’t feel real. It wasn’t.
It wasn’t real. He hadn’t been the Aaron she saw when he made that poor decision. She felt it deep down. Furthermore, he’d tried to tell her what happened. She hadn’t let him. And now the very wedge he’d tried to drive between them was being driven into his chest. Wounded to kill. Was she naïve believing he’d changed…for her?
No, she wasn’t. She knew him. They knew each other. She wouldn’t be deceived here.
“This is what he does, Grace. God knows I’m benefiting from the way his mind works, and if I wasn’t so keen to make a difference in office, in this country, I would find another path to success.”
As if her senses had been sharpened with a whittling knife, she could hear everything, every inflection in the spoken words. The phony resignation in her father’s voice. The ease with which he cut another man down. To benefit whom? “He probably hasn’t even acknowledged to himself what he’s done, sweetheart. He has insinuated himself with a member of my family—same way he did at his last position—and used your plight to his own advantage. It’s unconscionable. Unfortunately, it’s also politics. I’m sorry you were his target this time around. You weren’t his first and you probably won’t be his last. You’ll be safer with him in New York.”
“Stop,” Grace rasped. “Just stop.”
Aaron jerked when she spoke, his gaze searing her in all its blazing pain, before it went completely blank. Blank. As if he’d never truly been there to begin with. As if her father had spoken the truth and he’d finally dropped the act. No. No, she wasn’t going to be duped. Not again. Not like the last time.
The haze she’d woken to dissipated fully, and her father’s presence—the staffers’ presence—began to make perfect sense. The memories of the event she’d lived with for so long…her father was going to gain an advantage from it.
A surge of indignation whipped in Grace’s blood, attempting to overtake the pain of her father’s betrayal, but before she could order everyone out of the guesthouse, Aaron gave her one final look and began backing toward the exit. Confusion and denial made Grace hesitate…and holy hell, it cost her.
Grace’s father slung an arm around her shoulder, jerking her up against his side, whispering parental comfort into her hair. The staffers closed ranks around her. All the while, she shook her head, watching Aaron get closer to the door. “No.”
The sound of the front door clicking shut caused an eruption of rage, the likes of which Grace had never experienced. With a strangled scream, she shoved out of her father’s arms, slapping his hands away when he attempted to haul her back. Prevent her from leaving. “You.” She swallowed the lump in her throat, aiming a finger at the older man’s chest. “After everything, after Ray Solomon, after influencing my therapy sessions…you would try to manipulate me like this again?” A shuddering sob broke past her weakened defenses. “You’re my father.”
Grace vaguely registered the surprise on the staffer’s face, directly beyond her father’s shoulder. Not surprise at the accusation, surprise she’d been astute enough to make it. “Yes, I’m your father,” the senator continued. “Your manipulator just left. I’m trying to protect you.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You’ve never even let me sit behind you—with my own family—during a single one of your speeches. Now you suddenly want me in the spotlight?” She forced back the moisture threatening to spill from her eyes. “I don’t buy your sudden compassion. I don’t buy you.”
To his credit, something in her father’s eyes dimmed, his Adam’s apple sliding up and down. There was regret there, but he was too late. And if Grace didn’t hurry, she would be, too.
The brevity of her attire forgotten, Grace spun on a bare heel and sprinted to the front door, throwing it open and weathering a blast of cold air. She immediately spotted Aaron, head down, striding toward the haphazardly parked Suburban. Just the sight of him and the vehicle she’d grown to love sent Grace’s pulse into a frenzy. “Wait,” she said in a strangled whisper, racing down the steps. “Wait.”
Aaron’s shoulders stiffened, but he didn’t stop walking. If anything, he moved quicker, unlocking the driver’s side door and yanking it open. “You should be inside, Grace. You’ve got nothing on.” His knuckles were white on the door handle. “Go to your sister or mother—whoever will help—and borrow their car. Go somewhere until I can handle this somehow, do you understand?” His big back was rigid with tension. “You’ll freeze, Grace. Go.”
A flashback to the night in his tent, when he’d voiced a near identical command, invaded her mind. “If you want me warm, you better hold me.”
The look Aaron turned on her was so full of disbelief—and anger—she fell back a step. “Are you serious?” He spoke through clenched teeth, any sign of the man who’d danced with her in the forest…vanished. Gone. “Were you listening in there? All those things your father said were true. All of them. And do you know the worst part of it?” Eyes blazing, he didn’t wait for an answer. “I felt nothing for that woman. I didn’t have to say yes. It never even occurred to me that it was wrong. A married woman with children and it never even entered my mind, Grace. Not once.”
“How about now?” she threw at him, ignoring her jealousy and sadness and sympathy. “Look at me and tell me you haven’t hated yourself for it.”
A white heave of breath obscured his face, but she caught the answer in his glassy-eyed anguish. The one she’d already known. But he wasn’t ready to voice it out loud. “Are you really still standing there waiting for me to deny I’m a bastard? A betrayer?”
“No.” Grace watched him through the condensation hanging in the air, her throat hurting over the self-hatred in his tone. “I’m waiting for you to come inside and be none of those things with me. You weren’t ever supposed to be them. And now it’s over. Let it be over.”
His laugh was devoid of humor as he turned in a circle, tossing a punch into the driver’s side door and denting the metal. “You know why you make it sound so easy, Grace? You want it to be.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” There was a tremble in her voice, due to the cold in the air, in him, and she watched Aaron react. Watched him struggle with her bare feet in the snow. And when he tore off his jacket and dropped the warmth on her shoulders, Grace’s heart soared and soared. He was in there. She just had to reach him. “Tell me what you meant.”
Aaron was still for so long, Grace could see her opportunity slipping away. Could see those ever-present wheels spinning behind his too-intelligent eyes, the ones that she’d seen soft with affection and rife with lust. None of those qualities were present now, though. Only calculation. And the brief, flying past of regret threading through the golden brown, before he buried it deep, along with a dagger. “You see the world better than it is. You trust the wrong people.” He stared over her head, a wrinkle between his brows. “Your father was right. It’s not even conscious anymore. I see a way to get what I need, and I take it. I’m—” He turned and climbed into the driver’s seat, ramming the keys into the ignition, movements jerky, unnatural. Off. “I’m the monster you accused me of being, Grace. And you were easy prey.”
Even as agony seared her middle, she managed to reach out and prevent the door from slamming. “Well, you were right about one thing. You’re a liar.”
There. When Aaron’s head whipped around, his body tensing, she saw him. The man she loved and all his naked self-doubt. But that man she wanted with her whole being was gone too fast, closing the door between them and driving away, leaving her broken in the snow.