Page 15 of Indiscretion

Before I really hurt him.

Based on the copy of Elliot’s schedule I saw yesterday or the day before, I think Elliot has meetings tomorrow morning and is supposed to be in the Senate chambers to preside over a ceremonial thing before lunch. In the afternoon, he’s flying out to California for…something. To be honest, I haven’t even seen his most current schedule for this coming week. Elliot won’t return to DC until Thursday, I think.

Fuck if I know, or even care right now. Which is totally unlike me. I used to memorize his daily schedule and bust my ass to try to slip as much contact into our days as possible.

I normally have daily rituals with him, where I text him every morning when I get up, even if I know it’ll be awhile before he can respond, so he’ll know I’m thinking about him. Then I text him last thing every night before I go to sleep, even if we’ve talked on the phone that evening. It’s something we’ve done over the years to help keep us close even when distance and circumstances separate us.

But in the wake of losing Jordan, it’s all I can do to drag my ass out of bed in the morning, dress myself, and deal with Shae, meaning I’ve let all the rest slide.

Maybe Idoneed some time to myself.

TheGDis a shorthand code we have forgoing dark.

Meaning I’m turning off the burner until further notice.

Also meaning that, unless Elliot uses his personal phone or an official phone to contact me on my work or personal cell phone, he won’t be able to contact me.

Or, of course, if he sees me in person.

Right now, the likelihood of that is apparently next to zilch.

Despite how it would be logical and easily explainable that the vice president called me on my personal or work phone, Elliot is filled with mind-numbing fear and will never do that, unless it’s legitimately for something work-related.

Going dark.

Dark, like my mood over the past two weeks.

Dark.

Like my grief.

Dark.

As dark as the inky, poisonous slime currently engulfing my soul.

Dark.

Growing darker by the day.

But I don’t turn the burner off when I slip it into my pocket before hailing a cab. Once I’m inside the cab and on my way home, I loosen my tie and ignore the quick buzz of the burner in my pocket, which means Elliot’s replied. I’ll look at it later.

Actually…

I slip my hand inside my pocket, find the power button, and hold it down until I know the phone’s shut off.

There.

I won’t be tempted to say something I can’t take back, or forced to rein in my temper over what will probably be an excuse that I know is him trying to bait me, consciously or not, into ordering him to let me have contact with him.

All because he’s too chickenshit to admit he needs me or wants me, and he can’t bring himself to simplyaskme to come to him.

No. Not playing those games today. I don’t have the energy for them anymore. He had his chance to ask me when I made the suggestion the first time, and then again this morning when we were together.

Message received.

Loud and clear.

I bought the burners for us specifically for this purpose, so there’s nothing to track back to either of us. I paid cash for them while in Florida several years ago, and I use pre-paid debit cards, also purchased with cash, to pay the bill. All we use them for is to text and call each other, and that’s it. We use the Signal app to do that, for an extra layer of security encrypting our texts and call data. The apps are set to auto-delete messages after they’ve been read, and both phones have Wi-Fi and Bluetooth disabled, so the phones aren’t discoverable through anything but cell towers.