“Please, Chris?” Kev asks. “I’m worried about Shae.”
Chris scowls. “Uh, she’s not the one in the bed.”
Kev motions to Chris. When Chris leans in, Kev makes fish lips at Chris until he kisses him. Then Kev whispers something to him.
I can tell Chris feels guilty about leaving his boy. “Let me go talk to the doctors first.” After another round of consults with the medical staff, we finally get Chris heading toward the door.
I hug Chris. “Don’t worry,” I tell him. “No visitors unless I know them personally and know they’re friends.”
He nods. “Okay. And you stay with him if he gets a visitor.”
“Absolutely.”
He’s no sooner out the door and it’s swung shut behind him than Kev lets out a pained chuckle.
I turn to him. “Yes?”
He shakes his head a little. “We taking bets on whether he stays gone, or how many times he calls to check on me?”
I start to arrange my stuff so I can occupy the same recliner Chris used. “No, because I’m not stupid. You gave your Sir and the rest of us a hell of a scare. You think he’s going to let his guard down about you ever again, you’re wrong.”
We settle in with the TV on. I think Kev’s nearly asleep when he speaks.
“Thank you, Leo.”
I turn my head to look at him. “For what?”
“For everything. For how you take care of Shae for us. For keeping our secrets. For being the one guy we all can trust and turn to. For taking care of me out in Montana.”
He doesn’t have to clarify that one. Lauren’s funeral was a special hell for me for more than one reason. Mainly because while Chris had me stay overnight there with Kev, my mind kept thinking about another time in Montana when I had to deal with death.
It was heartbreaking witnessing Kev’s grief up close and personal but, again, I do what I’m told. “Yeah, well, I’m glad Chris talked me into taking the job in the first place.” I sigh. “I feel like I’m actually making a difference, in my own way.”
“How’s Elliot and Jordan?”
I shrug. “Complicated, as always.”
Which…of course that’s a massive understatement.
It’s also a perfect segue. “When were you going to tell me he’s going to run?” I ask.
Kev studies me. Even at his worst, he’s still a skilled political operative miles above my pay grade. “I figured that was a conversation for him to have with you. Not my business.”
“Come on, Kev. Jordan said he was in on the call.”
“There you have it. Your boy told you.”
“Why didn’t you—”
“I’m not getting in the middle of this between you three. That’s not my place.”
He’s right, of course. “Is he going to leave me?”
“Who, Elliot?”
I nod.
“I don’t think so. He hasn’t said anything about that.”
“He also didn’t say anything to me about running. He probably hasn’t said anything about me, period, has he?”
“What do you want me to say, Leo? That maybe it’s time you throw a scare into Elliot and threaten to walk away with Jordan?”
“Is that why you had Jordan sit in on a call like that? A call that’s definitely above his pay grade?” I’m watching him when I ask that.
I see him weigh his answers. “It did cross my mind maybe Jordan would say something to you, yes. But he’s also trying to learn. He’s spooky-smart. If he wants to stay in DC and make this his permanent career, he could be pulling serious bank in a few years as a campaign consultant.”
The thought of my boy doing that, though, fills me with dread. Because I see how cutthroat those guys can be. Doesn’t matter the party, you’re loyal to your client, and you fight to win because your reputation is only as good as your last campaign. They quickly become cynical, jaded warriors whose trophies are tabulated by supervisors of elections and departments of state all over the country. It becomes an addiction, a curse.
Jordan’s too good for that kind of life, too sweet.
I don’t want his innocence tainted like that.
Chris warned me back then to put Jordan first in my life. That’s all well and good, but the other key part of that leverage is knowing Elliot would step up if I threatened to leave.
Problem is, he’s not invested in Jordan.
I don’t know how to invest him in Jordan.
Right this moment? I’m not even sure if Elliot’s invested in me.
I hate admitting that.
And if he’s not invested in Jordan, and I threaten to leave…I’m fairly certain Elliot will sadly smile, hug me, and watch me walk away so he can self-implode during the campaign, lose, and disappear from public life with that humiliation following him forever. All while blaming himself for it.
I can’t let him do that.
I won’t let him do that.
Meaning until I can figure out how to bridge this gap, we’re at an impasse.
It also leaves me wondering if Elliot is far too broken for me to put together again.
Or if I should even try.
Chapter Forty-Six
Then — 15 Months Later
August
Elliot still.
Has not.
Fucking declared.
It’s almost eighteen months until the Iowa caucuses. The working assumption by the White House, and everyone, and their mother, and extended distant adopted fricking cousin’s college roommate’s best friend’s pool man, is that Vice President Elliot Gerald Woodley is running for president and is the presumptive Democratic nominee.
The commentators on all the cable news networks assume it.
And Elliot still hasn’t said it to me.
It’s the donkey in the middle of the living room, one that’s shitting all over the place and kicking up a storm, and Elliot still hasn’t talked to me about it.
After my talk with Kev in the hospital, I decided to wait Elliot out. To see what he’d do.
Especially since I had no clue what to do about this situation.
Unfortunately, nothing else has happened between Elliot and Jordan, other than Jordan attending a couple of events as Elliot’s body man.
The few times I go to Elliot’s at night and spend time alone with him, Jordan volunteers to be left behind.
What, I’m supposed to order him to come with me?
It kills me that I see the relief on Elliot’s face when he realizes I’m alone.
That my boy is right about this.
Kev healed up, luckily.
The shooter committed suicide in jail. Turned out he had terminal cancer.
And fucking hell, it also turned out Kev’s father, Congressman Markos, was behind hiring the shooter.
And he was behind Lauren’s death, and the death of Chris’ brother and sister-in-law.
And others.
Crimes committed by the shooter.
Fortunately, the fucker—Kev’s father—died of “natural causes” not long after being arrested.
What? It happens.
I mean, sure it was a coincidence that it happened right then, but if you think anyone else looked more closely at it, or that the hurry to get the fucker cremated as soon as possible was anything other than simply wanting fast closure for all involved…
Well, you’d be on track there, but not like anyone’s ever going to say anything.
Case closed, and the United States government is saved a fuckton of money in prosecution expenses and keeping the asshole in jail.
There was incontrovertible proof he was guilty.
And absolutely zero proof left behind that his sudden death was anything other than universal karma playing out quickly, for a change.
That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it, even if I wasn’t able to participate in that particular karmic payback.
Things between me and Jordan are…
They are.
He hasn’t sai
d anything else to me about Elliot running. My sweet boy doesn’t press, doesn’t tell me he told me so.
I love him, and he loves me, even though I’m sure he can see what this uncertainty is doing to me.
The psychologist is sick and tired of my whining and emo bullshit and says I should dump Elliot, marry Jordan, and move the fuck on.
But I can’t.
I don’t walk away from promises I make to those I love.
And I still love Elliot.
Spring turns into summer, and I sense a subtle restlessness in Jordan. When I ask him what’s wrong, he claims it’s just work.
I find out from Chris that Jordan’s been loaned out on a regular basis and is working on campaign stuff for Elliot. He’s helping Kev.
Making love between us starts to take on a frantic quality, mostly because it feels like he’s slipping through my fingers and I’m helpless to stop it, although I don’t know why I feel like that.
Or, maybe I do.
I go on a four-day trip with Shae to England and we return early on a Friday afternoon. I haven’t gone home yet, because there’s things I need to help her deal with, and Jordan was out of the office when I arrived.
I’m in my small office on the third floor over the residence when he appears in the doorway.
I jump up, dragging him inside and closing the door behind him so I can pull him into my arms and kiss him. “God, I missed you, baby.”
He sadly smiles, and…I know.
“I missed you, too, Sir.” He hasn’t set down his messenger bag. “We need to talk.”
Never in the history of the world have those four words, strung together like that in a sentence, ever led to something good. “What’s wrong?”
He takes a deep breath. “There’s an open admin position in the design department at FSU. My old job, basically. And there’s room in the graduate program for me to resume my master’s.”
“What?”
He sighs. “Leo,” he gently says, “Elliot’s going to run, and he needs you. I’m going to—”
“You’re leaving?” I stare at Jordan in disbelief as he nods. A lot of things run through my mind, the first being that I’ll do anything to keep him here, with me.
Or, if forced to, I’ll quit my job and leave with him.
When he doesn’t look me in the eyes, I know he’s not kidding around or trying to pull some bullshit power move.
My boy always looks me in the eyes.
“I don’t belong here,” he quietly says. “I wasn’t cut out to be in politics. I’m too good at it. It’s going to swallow me. Elliot loves you. He’s never going to feel for me the way he feels about you. I know you were hoping he would, and so was I, but it’ll never happen. He tolerates me in your life because he feels guilty he can’t make himself be out for you. Making him accept me isn’t fair to him. Same old song, new verse, same as the first.”
Something snaps inside me. I recall Chris’ warning to me all those years ago. “Then I’ll turn in my resignation and leave with you.”
He sadly smiles but still won’t look me in the eyes. “I can’t let you do that.”
It takes me a moment to process that refusal. “You can’t stop me. I need you!”
“The president needs you. And the vice president needs you even more. Besides, you don’t need me. You have Elliot.” He sniffles. It breaks my heart that I know if I reach out to touch him, to comfort him, that he’ll probably pull away from me.
And that will break my heart even more.
Desperation grips my guts and shrivels my balls because I know he’s serious. “Please don’t do this, Jordan. Please don’t leave me.”
“Elliot is going to be president. You and I both know that. The only way he can’t win is if he doesn’t run. President Samuels’ numbers are way too strong and the GOP doesn’t have any contender who can unseat him. Unless she does something incredibly stupid, like she nukes England, or barbecues puppies on the south lawn, there’s no way Elliot can lose. The poll numbers going into the midterms prove how popular she is. It’s basically a done deal. The only way Elliot can lose on his own when he runs is if he mulches a kitten, or gets caught fucking a little boy or something. The Dems won’t try to primary him.”
He also addresses another issue I didn’t realize he’d paid close attention to. “He also needs you to keep his sister from fucking things up, and to keep The Family away from him. They’re looking for any opening they can to drag him into their ranks, and Stella’s working with them.”
He’s right. I know he is.
I don’t want to admit that, though.
“Elliot loves you, Leo.” His hazel-green gaze briefly flicks up to me and back down again. “He needs you. Without you by his side, he’s nothing. Even if he can’t make himself come out, he’ll need you as his body man. He’s a good man who deserves to be POTUS. The country needs his leadership going forward. I suspect it won’t happen if I stay, or if I let you leave him and come with me. It’ll destroy him.”
“Why can’t you stay? If I’m his body man, you can work in the East Wing. It makes sense, because you’re already working there. You can be a chief of staff, or liaison, or something. If he finally comes out, you can be his body man while I marry him. We can make this work.”
He finally lifts his gaze to mine. “I love you, Leo,” he softly says. “You are the love of my life. I think if things were different, yeah, maybe a triad could work for us. The problem is, Elliot isn’t on board with that and never will be. I see the way he looks at you, and the way he looks at me when he knows you’re looking at me. He tolerates me because he knows it’s the only way to keep you, and that’s not healthy for any of us. Let’s be honest that the only reason he offered to let you be poly was because he felt guilty he’s not out.”
An arctic chill works its way through my body. “So…this is it, Jor? You just walk away from me as if we don’t have nearly six years together?”
I don’t know if the sound he makes is a sob or a scoff, or maybe both. He nudges his glasses up his nose. “If you think this is easy for me, then maybe this is the right decision.” He shoulders his messenger bag and tries to step around me, but I grab him, pull him into my arms, fist his hair, and kiss him.
He tries to resist me for a moment before he melts, his fingers digging into my suit jacket, his cock hard in his slacks and rubbing against mine, which wants to be buried inside him right now.
“Please don’t break my heart like this, baby,” I mumble against his lips. I back him against my desk, yank the bag off his shoulder, and drop it to the floor even as I keep kissing him. I grab his lapels and jerk his blazer off his shoulders and down his arms, shoving it to the floor.
And then, instead of fighting me, he’s pulling my blazer off me and we’re struggling to get each other’s belts and pants unfastened. In seconds, he’s naked from the waist down except for his socks. My slacks and briefs are down around my knees, and his legs tightly wrap around my waist.
Yeah, we’ve fucked in here before, but I’m not prepared today. I don’t have lube or a condom, so I spit in my fist and cup our erections together and squeeze.
He softly moans, his eyes dropping closed.
Releasing my grip in his hair, I remove his glasses with that hand and set them on the desk before I fist his hair again and slant my lips over his. I swallow every sweet moan he makes. It’s only a few seconds, between the two of us, before our pre-cum is giving me more than enough lube to easily stroke our cocks in my fist.
This is magic in a different way than what I have with Elliot. The second most powerful person on the planet willingly drops to his knees for me, and that’s fucking intoxicating. It felt like that even before he was officially VP, because I know how strong he is.
Meaning that he trusts me enough to let go to me.
This boy gave himself to me, gave me his virginity, and in return he’s taken my heart. Other than the secrecy, and the juggling act with Elliot, everything I have with Jorda
n is so damned easy in a way it isn’t with Elliot. No, I can’t unleash my darkest sadistic urges on Jordan, but that’s okay.
There has to be a way to hold on to him, to keep him.
Both of them.
Losing Jordan will gut me.
Except…
I know he’s right about Elliot. That’s not narcissism, either. If Elliot loses me, he won’t be able to handle the campaign, much less the pressures of the highest office in our land. Even though, all of his life, that’s what he thought he wanted, and he’s driven himself toward that goal.
Only now that Elliot’s here, so close to obtaining it—and now that he’s literally given a piece of his body in service to our country—he’s a different man. Transformed.
Wiser and sadder, seeing both DC and world politics from the inside in a way he never could before.
He sees what being president can do to a person’s private life. How it changes them forever, and frequently not in good ways.
The toll it takes on not just the president but on their loved ones, too. If they don’t have a solid, strong family foundation…
Well, just like Shae needs Chris and Kev.
Elliot needs me, at the very least. Without me running interference for him, he’s a sitting duck for Stella and her cohorts.
He might not even run if I’m not there to keep him grounded and focused and remind him why he wanted to run in the first place. Hell, if he remained VP after I leave him, it’d be a miracle. It wouldn’t shock me if he resigned.
The guilt on my shoulders if that happens would be…enormous.
Definitely not a weight I want to carry for the rest of my life.
I have enough guilt there already, right or wrong.
Shutting all of that out of my mind, I focus on the here and now, on Jordan. I devour him with my mouth, no longer giving a shit if it looks like we’ve been kissing by the time we finish this. I stroke our cocks together, loving the way he digs his heels into my ass and rocks against me.
I know he wishes I’d fuck him right now except this is real life, not a porn flick. I won’t fuck him dry. I might do many dirty things to my boy, but hurt him like that, in bad ways, is a threshold I refuse to cross.
Indiscretion (Inequitable Trilogy Book 1) Page 45