Page 20 of The Press Secretary's Passion
And now I might never get the chance.
If I could go back in time, I would take every moment he came to me and let him love me well. I would gratefully accept every time he spoke to me with the sharp side of his tongue and not snap back. I would accept him for the man he is and not butt heads against it.
But now, all there can be done is to sit and wait.
I sit back on the sofa and curl my legs underneath me on the sofa. Grace curls her round form into Jake’s side, and I watch with unchecked longing as he wraps his arm around her while he talks to Gus. The way they offer comfort to each other is beautiful to watch, and I want it for myself with everything that I am. Not Jake, but someone who wants to comfort me and care for me in times of need.
I have no idea how much time passes, and then the door opens, and Rick walks in with Rachel in one arm and his free hand holding Cara’s.
I jump up, waiting for them to tell me what to do. I feel so helpless. Jake gingerly lifts Grace to her feet before gracefully gaining his own. He shakes Rick’s hand, patting him on the back before turning to kiss Cara’s cheek.
“Black?” I hear Jake ask, and Cara bites her bottom lip as tears well in her eyes. My heart goes out to my friend, but I’m also dying to know where Ryan is.
“He was shot.” She sniffles.
“I know, honey,” Jake replies.
“It was my fault.”
“No,” Rick bites out.
“He’s right,” Jake says. “Ryan did what he was going to do, what I knew he was going to do.”
Rick shoots Jake a pointed glare that says they’re going to talk later, but for now, he’s letting it go. Clearly, Jake had all the plans, while everyone else only had bits and pieces.
Jake’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Alexander,” he whispers to Rick and Gus, who seem to know what he means.
“Hello?” Jake answers.
“What the fuck is going on?” I hear a man’s voice roar, and Jake moves to the other room.
“I should take her upstairs,” Cara says, and lifts her hands to take Rachel.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” Rick replies as he transfers the weight of his eight-year-old daughter from his arms to her mother’s.
“I’ll keep you posted,” Jake says as he pockets his phone before turning to Rick. “Where is he?”
“Bethesda Memorial,” Rick answers, and I realize they’re talking about Ryan. He’s in the hospital.
“If the press reach out,” Jake says, turning to me, “he was injured in a hunting accident. He’s taking time to recover but will be back on duty soon.”
“So he’s well?” I ask and realize that one question showed more about my true feelings than I intended, and I instantly want to pull the words back into my mouth. One glance at the gentle but concerned looks Rick and Jake are now both wearing tell me all I need to know. And it’s not good.
“We don’t know much,” Rick says gently. “He’s still at the hospital.”
“Sure, sure,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “I’m just trying to form my plan of attack.” I can see no one believes me, but that’s fine.
“I’ll have Grace call you when I know more,” Jake assures.
“Sure,” I respond. “I should go.”
“I’ll have Gus drop you off on the way,” he says. “We should be going too.”
“My car—” I start to say, but then I realize Ryan picked me up this morning and how weird it was that he showed up all sweet and friendly on my doorstep after he hit it and quit it—again—last night. “That would be appreciated.”
“Of course.”
“I can get a cab or an Uber if it’s too far out of your way.”
