Outside the interrogation room, I find Taggert and Lyncoln sitting there watching in the observation room.
Crap. They saw that whole thing.
“Gentlemen,” I greet them crabbily.
“Nice work in there,” Taggert says nicely. He apparently has experience with angry women as he starts with a compliment.
I shrug. “Thanks. Didn’t get any new information though,” I say although they already clearly know that if they have been sitting here the whole time.
He shakes his head in disagreement. “You found out they don’t normally use kill-pills. That’s what I wanted to know when I heard you were coming over to talk to him. I tried to talk to him yesterday, but of course, he will only deal with you. And you don’t even have to beg to get him to talk.”
“Thanks, I think,” I nod. I look to Lyncoln who is oddly quiet in watching us. Dark and mysterious Lyncoln is back in action. Go figure.
“Let me know what he decides he would like to do about this situation,” Taggert offers as he and Lyncoln stand.
“Will do, but it seems like we are at an impasse. Anything on the drifter SUV?” I ask, looking back to Lyncoln.
“No.” Lyncoln shakes his head once.
“Go figure,” I say annoyed and out loud this time. I take a deep breath. “I need a shower. And some tea. And some freaking chocolate.” I dismiss myself with that.
I just can’t deal with Lyncoln right now. He seems upset with me and I don’t know why. If it was about what I said, it was the truth and he knows it. I want to win. I hope we win. But we need to prepare ourselves for the alternative. We need to hope for the best but prepare for the worst.
Back at Mile High, I take off my black gear, put on some shorts and a tank top, and fall into my bed. I’m feeling sorry for myself and I know it, but I just don’t care. I have given my blood, sweat, and tears to this thing and I’m still going to fail. Marisol, of all people, is going to be beat me. Feeling the exhaustion of the week take over, I wallow in self-pity and cry myself to sleep.
****
When I wake up, I’m surprised to see Lyncoln sitting on my couch looking at some papers while he works on something. Whatever he is looking at seems intense.
“Hey.” I sit up and reach for my bottle of water on the nightstand.
“Hey, yourself,” he says quietly.
I sigh. Might as well get this over with. “Are you mad at me?”
He looks at me confused. “No? Why would I be?”
I shrug. “For what I said to Samson.”
“You mean the part where you think we aren’t going to win?” It’s his turn to sigh as he puts the papers down.
I nod. “The elephant in the room that neither one of us has wanted to address.”
He starts speaking softly as he walks over to the bed to sit beside me, “Look. I don’t care about what you said. I don’t care that we might not win. What I care about is that it was clearly bothering you, yet you said nothing to me. This last week touring the country with you was one of the best weeks of my life. Something was bothering you that entire time and you didn’t say a word.”
Oh. I never thought of it that way.
“I didn’t want to add more stress or put more pressure on you,” I admit, looking down at my hands and feeling a bit guilty.
He pulls my chin up to look at him. “You are never a stress. Your worries are never a burden. We’re a team.”
“Okay.”
He smirks. “Okay.” He trails his hand down my bare arm adding, “Reagan, even if we don’t win, it doesn’t change anything with us.”
Crap. This is also what we’ve been avoiding.
“Sure it does,” I argue with a shrug.
“What do you mean?” I see a flicker of doubt on his face.
I squeeze his arm. “Not that I love you, that’s not going to change. But I know you. And I know me. I know that in Omaha, though you would do what you had to, you would miss out on the military. You would worry. You’re a born protector and leader and it would slowly kill you to not do that, to sit on the sidelines and not even know what’s going on. I get it. It’s one of the things I love about you,” I nod and continue. “And I know me. I have missed my family more in the last twelve weeks than I thought possible. People are my greatest strength and weakness. Yeah, I will be able to talk to them often even if we lose, but if we stay in Denver and start our family here… I can’t imagine having kids without my mom and dad and Ashton around as they grow up. I also don’t want your mom to miss out either.”
Tears sting my eyes. This is what really bothers me about all of this. “So either way, one of us is going to slowly die inside as we miss out on something we love. And then comes the resentment. The only option we have of saving our country and saving this,” I point between us, “is to get to the final two couples.”
He kisses me, soft and quick, and then wipes away my tears. “Reagan, look at how crazy our relationship has been. You fought this. I fought this. We lost a friend. We lost Henry to the Hadenfelts. We are worried about the drifters. You almost died. We are worried about the Hadenfelts. If we can love each other through all that, we will figure out the rest as it comes. Our relationship has had nothing but stress and we are still here. Still fighting for it.”
I manage a nod and then after a moment ask, “Do you still even want to win? I know as a military man you see it as your duty to rid us of the Hadenfelts, but for a while there, you didn’t really care to win, with all of the responsibilities. If we do, you won’t be able to go out on missions all the time. Are you okay with that?”
He thinks for a moment before answering. “I do want to win. First and foremost, all I ever wanted out of the Culling was you. But I also know I can’t do combat my whole life. I always thought I was going to end up like my dad in Taggert’s position. Or in training. But now I can see the opportunity I would have as President to do it all. About halfway through the Culling, the Board helped me to realize I wouldn’t be half bad. And if I can use my skills and talents in combat, I can apply them with my work ethic to the presidency in the same way and maybe be good at it. So yeah, I feel a duty to, but I also kind of want to. I can’t do combat forever. I want a family, I want a life with you. I want it all. I’m just greedy like that. I want everything.” He stops then adds, “Win or lose though, we’ll take it as it comes. Together. A team.”
Those words are probably the longest explanation he’s ever said to me and they bring me to tears again. I climb onto his lap, into his arms, and hold on for dear life, hoping with all I’ve got that he’s right. Although the Culling has been one wild ride, it did give me this man right here. I need to remember that as we head into this vote that could make or break my happy ending.
Chapter 13
Lyncoln orders us food once he finds out I skipped lunch. In a better mood now, and not feeling nearly as sorry for myself, I strike up a conversation while we finish eating. “What were you working on while I was out?”
Whatever it is, is bad because he looks like he doesn’t want to tell me.
I shake my head. “You don’t have to tell me. I can tell it’s big. But do I need to be worried?”
“Not yet,” he says, looking almost restless.
What is he working on now? Something with Hadenfelt or the drifters? Or was there something about the drifter attack he isn’t telling me?
Just then, Frank and Gertie arrive as a glad interruption to my worrying mind.
“Darlings!” Frank says cheerfully. “One last interview today. And Monday is the special broadcast on each couple.”
He obviously hasn’t stopped believing that we are going to win.
Gertie rolls her eyes, mad he brought it up. “Can I get you dears anything?” she asks politely.
I shake my head no. I already have a tea with my lunch and that’s usually her go to.
“I’ll show you the attire for this evening, and then its butter bath for you, darling,” Frank says, getting into work mode
.
“Why doesn’t Lyncoln have to take one?” I smile, trying to be a pain.
Gertie giggles like she always does when we tease Lyncoln like this.
“Me? Butter bath?” Lyncoln sounds offended. “We’ve been over this.”
I argue with a laugh, “But it’s what makes my skin so soft.”
“Wait. So you’re saying you wouldn’t be able to take your hands off me?” he asks, playfully intrigued.
While I blush, Frank chimes in with fake seriousness, “Indeed. You would be, as the kids’ say, ‘too hot for her to handle’.”
“Whatever. I’ll do it,” he says with an eye roll.
“What?!” Frank exclaims overjoyed.
Gertie smacks him across the arm, mumbling, “He said he would do it, keep your cool.”
This makes me giggle before I get serious, thinking of something. “Wait! It won’t make him smell girly, will it? He will still smell like usual right?”
Gertie smiles and nods. “I have a mixture that is manlier smelling anyway, but yes, it won’t overpower his cologne in any way.”
“Oh good,” I say with relief.
“Down, girl,” Lyncoln says playfully.
I fake glare at him. “I just really like the way you smell, okay?”
He gives me that killer, rare smile. “Okay.”
“Now! The attire,” Frank says proudly and rubs his hands together. He opens the dress bag and pulls out a beautiful dress.
It’s a pinkish/ivory colored dress. It has one strap across the shoulder. The strap is a light material in the pinkish, ivory color. It doesn’t hold the dress up, it just looks nice. The strap of this material runs across the shoulder, across the whole bodice, bunches at the opposite hip, and then flows into the skirt. So basically, the strap makes it look like two dresses in one.
Meanwhile the base is a pale pink, tight-fitting strapless dress. The other material wraps around it, covering it. The only reason why you even see the base is because the top material is so light, it is see-through. So the base dress is what actually covers me. When Frank turns the dress around, Lyncoln whistles his approval. The strap goes from thick on the front, to thin on the back and barely covers anything until the pink base material covers my derriere. So, other than a strip of see-through strap down to my butt, my whole back will be bare.
“Holy crap.” I’m not sure there are any other words I can use to accurately describe this dress.
“An exquisite gown for an exquisite girl,” Frank nods to me. He then pulls out Lyncoln’s suit which is black on black on black: black suit, black dress shirt, black textured vest, and black tie.
“I love it.” I nod. This is the first time we won’t be matching, but oddly enough, I think we will. The black of his suit beside my dress makes my dress seem pinker in color and stand out. I love everything about it. What perfect attire for what could be my last interview.
“Now baths, lady and gentleman. Get to it!” Frank barks.
****
I stand in the mirror feeling a bit self-conscious. Frank has already left and Lyncoln is finishing up a call with Taggert before we head down. My hair, which is longer, is in soft waves down my back. My makeup was done perfectly in natural tones and matching light pink lipstick. My heels are beige and are only three-inches instead of my usual four-inchers.
I inspect my jewelry, just a bracelet and some diamond shaped dangling earrings this time. All things considered, I look amazing. This dress leaves little to the imagination though as it is very, very tight fitting. Every curve to my body is very much on display. I kind of wish I had Vanessa’s perfectly toned body right about now. I’m not usually so self-conscious about these things, but I’m not usually in such tight dresses either.
There’s a knock on my door. I open it to find Jamie, not Lyncoln.
“Holy crap, Reagan--I mean, Ms. Scott,” Jamie corrects with a smile. “You look great.”
I blush and smile. “Thanks. And for the hundredth time, you can call me Reagan, Jamie.”
“Lyncoln just called and told me we should go ahead and go on down. He’ll meet us there, he’s just finishing up something,” he explains.
I smile. “Fine with me.” Good. Dressed like this Lyncoln was sure to make us late anyhow.
“Hey,” Jamie says softly in the elevator as he pats my hand that is looped through his arm. “I know you’re worried, but I just want you to know that more people are voting for you than you think.”
“Thanks.” I’m grateful for his continued loyalty. “It just seems pretty impossible at this point.”
“So did making it this far when you first got here,” he says lightheartedly with a shrug.
He has a point. I never in a million years thought I would be where I am today.
The elevator dings open and we step out. Frank and Gertie are of course there for any last-minute touch-ups, but I don’t need much of one this time because I haven’t been snoodling Lyncoln.
Dougall is smiling and ready to go. This is the least stressful interview for her. Instead of going one right after the other and being live, we all go at a specific time with ten minutes in between. We also don’t get to see what goes on with the other candidates this time. Rather than watch it live, we will tune in with everyone else and watch our interview with the nation.
I feel Lyncoln before I see him. I feel that charge in the air and just know he is in the room. Then I feel the warmth of his hand on my bare back shortly thereafter.
“Careful,” I warn, turning to face him. “I have Rodgers on standby with water to put you out if need be.”
This makes everyone laugh, including Rodgers, and has lightened the mood. Lyncoln smiles but his eyes have that passionate burn to them so I know better. I make sure not to touch him until he cools off.
“Ready?” Dougall asks.
I nod, ready to get this over with. I feel naked now with all this extra attention.
The interview begins and Lyncoln is charming as usual. I smile and laugh, but oddly enough, don’t have a lot to say. Dougall, of course, calls me out on it.
“Ms. Scott, you are abnormally quiet tonight,” she says pointedly. I should’ve known she wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily.
I nod and look to Lyncoln, looking so striking in his suit. His arm is around me as we sit side by side. I put my hand on his knee needing the strength. “I guess I’m just feeling a little sad as this first vote nears. I don’t want to say goodbye to any of the candidates, or our guards, or our attendants. I just…” I stop as tears sting my eyes. I look down at my hands and then back at Dougall. “I’m just not done yet. I feel like I have more work to do.” I smile through the tears that are barely contained in my eyes and continue, “Even if we don’t make it past this first vote, I will always have this man beside me though, and I am very, very thankful for that.”
Lyncoln leans over and kisses my temple. Dougall is practically bouncing in her seat with approval.
“When is the wedding anyway?” she asks.
“I think that depends on this first vote,” Lyncoln shrugs. “Honestly, we have been so busy we haven’t had time to really plan much of anything or even talk about it much.”
I know Marisol has been saying to anyone who asks that she and Henry have been too focused on the country to talk about engagement and marriage. She’s trying to make it seem like we are love-struck fools. I’m thankful for Lyncoln pointing this out and slighting her.
“So until we make plans,” I stop to smile, “my attendants are having their fun trying different styles of gowns on me.” I gesture to the beautiful gown I’m wearing. I figure I better snap out of my quiet slump or Dougall will chide me. I had better use this last opportunity to try and sway as many votes as I possibly can.
“Well this one is certainly lovely,” Dougall nods.
Lyncoln nods with her, but a little too emphatically, and it makes her laugh.
I shake my head in amusement.
“Now. I have been asking
all the couples this. In the spirit of Thanksgiving, each of you please choose a candidate from one of the other couples and point out why you are thankful for them,” she says, smiling brightly. “You all have quite the rapport with one another and have become as close as family. I thought it would be interesting for everyone to see how you feel about each other even though you are essentially competing against one another.”
This was not planned. We can’t prep for this question. I’m not sure what Dougall is doing, but she’s up to something here. I know it from the glint in her eye. I would have liked to talk this over with Lyncoln first. For some reason, she wanted us to blindly have to pick a person.
Lyncoln nods to me for me to go first.
I think for a moment. “Just one?”
She smiles and nods.
“Ugh!” I moan. “Where do I begin? Attie and Elizabeth are the closest things I have ever had to sisters. We have been close since the beginning. I love them both unconditionally.” I pause. “But I guess if I had to choose one though, I would choose Henry.”
This might come back to haunt me, but I’m just going with my gut and flying blind here. I miss Henry. Despite his being superglued to the enemy, he is still Henry and would make a great president.
I continue, “He is one of the best people I have ever met. He is kind and sure, and although he has lived under the shadow of his father his whole life, he meets and exceeds all those expectations. He is also his own person though. He is Lyncoln’s best friend and mine too. I’m thankful for his silent strength and always doing what is best for others. He even has this thing for zombie literature, and I’m not sure I’m exactly thankful for that… but it’s at least entertaining.” I smile to Dougall who looks impressed and laughs.
“You mentioned three people, Ms. Scott, but we will let it slide this time,” she smiles, knowing I was purposefully trying to break the rules by mentioning more than one person.
Whoops. I shrug in an unapologetic apology. I’ll tell you who I didn’t mention. I didn’t mention that snake Marisol. Whoopsie indeed.
The Fracturing: Book 2 (The Culling Series) Page 17