Page 172 of Enemy Within

Jack shook his head.

“Everyone in DC was excited. There was a buzz in the air. A lot of times, no one cares about the incoming guy. It’s either boring—another stuffed shirt—or someone you dread. But you were someone everybody was excited about. You built bridges. Worked across party lines. Had a reputation for getting things done. Being honest and ethical. Having integrity. We all looked forward to you.”

It should have helped, but Ethan’s words just made him want to disappear. If that were true, then he’d shredded people’s hopes in a blisteringly short eighteen months. In political timetables, that was the speed of a rocket plowing into the earth. How fast he’d tanked. Where had it all gone wrong?

Ethan kissed his temple, nuzzled his cheek. “You shouldn’t have come for me,” he breathed, whispering into Jack’s ear. “This is all because you came after me in Russia. Jack…”

Jack sat up and turned to face Ethan. He held Ethan’s face in both of his hands. “No. No, I’ll never regret that. Never regret coming back to you and putting us back together. No matter what happens.” He smiled, finally. “I will always choose you first. You are my everything. Always.”

Maybe he was compromised. He’d put Ethan before everything, before his presidency, before Madigan, before the end of the world. But he could live with that. Living without Ethan, on the other hand…

Ethan’s hand rose, cradling Jack’s face in return as he pressed their foreheads together and smiled back. Their wedding rings glinted in a ray of sunlight falling through the windows, scattering prisms around the cabin, rainbow diamonds that danced over their tearstained faces.

75

Texas

IT WAS ETHAN’S TURN to be wracked with anxiety as they pulled up the gravel drive leading to Jack’s parents’ house.

Jack’s parents lived on a small ranch outside of Austin, just enough land to grow hay on and need a tractor. But still close enough to the city to have decent cell reception, Jack had said with a smile.

A car had been left for them at the Austin Executive Airport, and they’d driven an hour into the country together, holding hands. Jack had started telling story after story of his parents, about growing up an only child, being a rascal who got into too much trouble.

Ethan tried to remember to breathe as the trees blurred together, and the golden Texas hills rolled on and on.

Eventually, they’d turned off the highway and wound through the backroads, and then turned up a narrow gravel drive.

A man and a woman were already sitting on the porch. As they turned in, both sprang to their feet. Moments later, they charged down the porch and ran across the drive, shouting. “Jack! Jack! My God! Jack!”

Jack parked and tumbled from the car, racing to his mom and dad. His mom, short and plump with thick gray hair, threw open her arms as Jack neared, and she wrapped him up, holding on to him and rocking back and forth like he was still ten years old. Sobs wracked her, wordless shouts as she clung to her son. Jack’s dad grabbed them both and pulled them close, a three-way hug as he kissed the top of Jack’s head.

Jesus. Ethan’s hands shook as he climbed out of the car. Would they blame him for everything that had gone wrong? For Jack’s downfall? History would put a pin through Ethan’s face, marking him as the turning point in Jack’s presidency.

He lingered behind Jack and his parents, fidgeting.

Jack’s dad saw him first. Smiling, he reached for Ethan and held out his hand. “Ethan.”

“Hello, sir.” He shook Jack’s dad’s hand.

Jack’s dad pulled him in, wrapping him up in a hug. “Thank you for bringing our son home,” he breathed in Ethan’s ear, his voice shaking. “Thank you for loving him.”

EVENTUALLY, THEY MADE THEIR way inside. Andrew and Mary, Jack’s parents, hustled them into the kitchen, where Mary had food waiting. A TV droned in the background, turned to TNN. Speculation raged on Jack’s future, on the committee’s deliberations. Unnamed sources from the Capitol went back and forth in the comments, first declaring Jack was on the way to prison, and then bitterly arguing the opposite.

Andrew turned the TV off as soon as they walked in. Ethan spotted pictures of him and Jack hanging everywhere—framed and on the walls, propped up on the mantel, stuck to the refrigerator. The signs of a proud family.

“When President Wall called, we thought the worst,” Mary said, her voice wobbling. “We couldn’t prepare for what she told us. You were alive… but we had to pretend you were dead.” Andrew held her hand on top of the table as tears rolled down Mary’s cheeks. “No, let’s talk about something else.” Mary wiped her face and tried to smile.

They spent the afternoon talking, getting to know each other as if there wasn’t the risk of life in prison hanging over Jack’s head. Andrew and Mary wanted to know all about their life in the White House. About Sergey, Jack’s best friend, and Ethan’s time in the Secret Service. What being the very first First Gentleman was like. Ethan’s life before Jack.

No one brought up Madigan’s name, or the strike in the Arctic, or Jack’s flight to Russia. No one asked about Ethan’s bruises, either, but Jack caught Andrew and Mary staring at them with wide, terrified eyes.

Eventually, though, Mary did ask about their wedding. “I wish I had been there,” she said, her hand resting on top of Jack’s.

“It was fast. Cramped. We were at war a few hours later. But Captain Anderson was great. For speaking off the cuff, he spoke beautifully.” Jack smiled and reached for Ethan. “It was ours, and that made it perfect.”

Mary beamed as Ethan flushed, gazing into Jack’s eyes. Andrew smiled too, clapping Jack on the shoulder before he stood. “So, Ethan,” he said. “Are you an outdoorsy guy?”

“Yes, sir. I grew up on a farm. I helped my dad out around the place.”