Chapter Seven Lena
Chapter Seven
Lena
As I sing a Shakira song, I wiggle my own hips and push the vacuum out and then back to me, belting out the lyrics with all my might. When I’m frustrated, I either sketch or play the piano or clean.
And I’m a whole lot of frustrated right now. But all I can do is clean.
Did Gideon know that I’d be walking into that mess? No. He immediately tensed up, the way he does when he senses a threat, and stood in front of me. He told her to stop.
He didn’t know.
What a lovely welcome to the ranch.
I guess I’ll be staying close to home and keeping to myself while I’m here. Aiden seemed nice enough, but if everyone here hates me, I’ll hide away.
It doesn’t bother me.
I’ve done it before.
“I won’t deny . . .” I turn and then come up short and let out a little squeal when I see Gideon standing at the edge of the living room, his arms crossed, showing off bulging biceps that I’m quite sure are illegal in all fifty states.
And if they’re not, I’m sure my mom could sign an executive order if I asked her.
Gideon says something, but I can’t hear him over the vacuum, so I shut it off and lift an eyebrow.
“Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked if you’re okay.”
Shrugging a shoulder, I grab the feather duster I found in the closet with the vacuum and start wiggling it over surfaces.
“I’m fine, Gideon. A whole lot of people don’t like me. If I cried every time they threw it in my face, I’d have some sort of eye disorder. But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll remove myself from that situation and make myself something different for breakfast.”
Willow doesn’t just dislike me. She hates me. She was breathing fire at me, and if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under.
“But did you tell them that it was my fault?” I can’t help the question that falls out of my mouth, and then I instantly regret it. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
“I didn’t tell them anything,” he replies. “Because it’s all classified. So no, Blackbird, I didn’t tell them that it was your fault. Besides, it wasn’t your fault.”
Except, it was.
It absolutely was my fault, and it’s my biggest regret. My worst nightmare, one that I relive over and over again.
“It really doesn’t matter. It’s over. You’re fine. It was a long time ago.” I swallow hard because now the tears want to come.
“Gideon!”
“Go with Richie! Get the fuck out of here, Lena!”
Christ, I’ll never forget the helplessness, the despair. The panic. The fear. And how the rain fell so hard, in sheets, soaking us all to the bone and making Gideon’s blood run faster.
I whimper and then slap my hand over my mouth and play it off as a cough.
“Something in my throat.”
“Lena . . .”
“You should have stayed for the food. It smelled good.” Do not cry. Do not cry. “I’m just going to clean a bit, if that’s okay? Maybe later I’ll take a nap.”
That’s a lie. I won’t nap because I’ll dream, and that can’t happen today.
“You don’t have to clean my house.”
“I know.” My voice sounds so cheerfully fake that Gideon’s eyes narrow. “It’s all good—I like it. I can’t sketch, and I can’t play the piano, and I can’t listen to music because I don’t have access to any electronics—”
“Fuck.”
“—so I’ll clean. I can’t cook, though. Never got the hang of it, and the chef at the White House always chased me off.
I’d order in, but I don’t think DoorDash is a thing in the boonies, and we swing back to the no-electronics thing.
Otherwise, I’d put a pot roast in the oven or something, but it would burn and then your house would stink, and no one wants that. ”
I can’t stop babbling. Someone make it stop!
“Lena.”
“I’ll see you later.” I shoot him the fakest smile I’ve ever given anyone, even when my mother was running for president, and then turn away so he can’t see my face.
Why do I feel like I’m breaking?
This is stupid.
This is so stupid.
I’ve had so many horrible things said to me in the seven years that my mother has held office that I let it roll off like water on a duck.
It never affects me. Death threats, men describing in detail what they want to do to my body—you name it, I’ve heard it.
Hell, Gideon has heard it because he was there with me.
So why now? Is it because I felt safe with Gideon, and I wasn’t expecting it? I should never assume that just because I can relax a little I can let my guard down with anyone.
I learned that a decade ago.
Dragging the feathers up the handrail, I decide to clean my bedroom, where I can close the door and just be for a while.
Because I’ll lose it if I have to be in a room with Gideon for even one more minute. And I’ll want him to hug me, and I know that he won’t do that.
I don’t remember the last time anyone did. I never see my parents. Chelsea isn’t a hugger. And I don’t trust people.
Once in my room, I close the door and take a shaky breath, and then let the tears come.
You’re the little girl who hurt my guy.
Fuck.
Why did he bring me here? Why couldn’t he have taken me literally anywhere else to hide? I know there are safe houses, and places that are off the grid that don’t involve his family. I don’t want to be here.
I’ll demand to speak with my mom or Bishop and ask to be reassigned. I just have to get through the next year of Mom’s last term, and then I can disappear. I’ll have no obligations, and I can do whatever I want.
No security detail.
No reporters.
No more threats, since I won’t be connected to anyone with any power anymore.
God, that sounds so nice.
I let the duster fall to the floor and walk to the bed, but I don’t sit on the side of it. I sit on the carpet with my back against the mattress, facing the wall, hidden from the doorway.
And I bury my face in my hands and cry.
I must have fallen asleep. Someone is knocking on the door, and when I blink my eyes open, it’s dark. Did I sleep all damn day?
“Lena, are you in there?”
Gideon.
I didn’t dream, which shocks the hell out of me because all I’ve done since this morning is think about that night. It would usually be a living entity in my body, terrorizing me relentlessly.
But I slept hard, and dreamlessly.
“Lena?”
“Sorry,” I call out, and the door opens.
“Where are you?”
The light from the hallway shines in, and Gideon walks around the room, then sees me on the far side of the bed.
His face hardens.
“Why are you hiding?”
Because it’s instinct.
“I’m not. I fell asleep down here.”
“On the floor.”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“Why?”
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Because I had a minor meltdown and sat closest to the wall for a few minutes and accidentally fell asleep. Okay? Is that what you want to hear, Gideon?”
“Lena—”
“It’s not a big deal. But I’m super hungry, and I have no idea what time it is.”
“It’s after nine.” His face is grim. “I just got back.”
“From where?”
“First, I stopped to have another heart-to-heart with Willow.”
I sigh, shaking my head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Then, I went to town so I could get some groceries and some takeout. I also got you this.”
He passes me an iPad. I blink at it and then up at him.
“It’s connected to my secure Wi-Fi, but any messaging capabilities have been disabled. No texts and no email. I mean it, Lena, I’m trusting you. However, you can listen to music, or watch movies, or surf the internet all you want.”
I can listen to music.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I grabbed tacos and chips and guac—”
“Say no more. I’m totally down for this adventure. Tacos are my love language.” I stand and grin at him, but he’s not smiling back, and I feel my face fall. “Something’s wrong.”
But he shakes his head, denying it.
“Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go eat.”
“Gideon, are you and Willow okay?”
He blows out a breath, clenches his jaw, and then meets my gaze with his. “No. We’re not okay. But we will be. Come on, I’m hungry too.”
“I don’t want—”
“Let’s go, Rebel. I’m fucking hungry.”
He didn’t just get tacos and chips.
The man bought out the restaurant.
“There’s enough here to feed eight people.”
He shrugs and pops the staples on the top of a brown paper bag, revealing the freshly fried corn chips, then opens a tub of guac, another tub of queso, and yet another of salsa.
“I have tacos, burritos, and quesadillas. I didn’t know what you would order.”
He got everything.
Because he didn’t know what I would want.
But I need to play this cool. It’s not a romantic gesture. We have to eat, and it’s not like he can text me to ask me what I want.
“Thanks.” I dip a chip in the queso and sigh when I chew. “We’ll have leftovers.”
Gideon passes me a plate, and we dig in, and less than five minutes later, I’m sitting crisscross in a plush leather chair while he’s sitting on the couch, and the beginning credits of The Goonies come on.
“A classic,” I say, nodding in satisfaction.
“Never seen it.”
I stop chewing and stare at him. “How? I thought this was a staple in everyone’s childhood.”
“I didn’t have a normal childhood” is all he says, and the hard look of his face tells me that he won’t say more.
“Well, then you can watch it now.”
This burrito is bomb, and when all my food is gone, the chips are just a memory, reduced to crumbs on the coffee table, and my belly is as full as it’s been in a long time, we lounge back and watch the movie.
“This town is full of idiots. All of them should have CPS called for losing their kids.”
“It’s a movie, Gideon. It doesn’t have to be realistic.”
He smirks but crosses his arms over his chest and stays quiet for a while.
The kids have just found the pirate ship when Gideon lets out a huff.
“No way.”
“It’s a freaking movie. Are you like this during Marvel movies? Or Star Wars?”
“No, those are science fiction.”
“You’re entertained. I can see it. Your teeth aren’t clenched so hard that it looks like they’re going to break.”
He scowls over at me. “I don’t do that.”
“On the daily, big guy.”
“Why do you call me that?”
I blink over at him. “You have nicknames for me. I can have one for you. Besides, have you seen you? You’re a big guy. And if you make a joke about your dick right now, I will choke you out with that burrito wrapper.”
“I’d love to see you try, Rebel.”
He holds my gaze, those steel gray eyes full of humor, and the room is suddenly consumed with humming electricity. My breathing increases. My pulse is hammering. And Gideon’s eyes spark with interest as he licks his lower lip.
“Walk the plank!”
Gideon’s the first to break the stare, and I feel like I should fan my face.
It’s hot in here.
“Those restraints are not tied very tight. The kids are lazy. They could get out of those. Amateurs.”
I can’t keep the giggle in. “Okay, expert.”
“I am an expert.”
“They’re kids. They’re scared.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“I think you just don’t want to like this movie because I like it.”
“Not true.” He shakes his head and then smirks when the two oldest teenagers share a kiss after falling off the plank. “He’s thinking about scoring now?”
“Duh. He’s sixteen.” I take a sip of my water. “Don’t ruin the ending.”
He manages to stay quiet until the credits roll.
“That’s two hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”
I glare at him. “Did you really hate it that much?”
“No.” His lips twitch, and I throw a pillow at his face. “You’re so fucking violent, Blackbird.”
“Not usually. You must bring it out in me.” I stretch my arms over my head and yawn. I don’t really want to go to sleep. I don’t want to dream.
But my eyes are heavy, and we have an early morning tomorrow.
“Back at it at five?” I ask him.
“No. Not until your new gear arrives.”
“There has to be something we can do that doesn’t involve shoes.”
And just like that, the air is heavy again, and Gideon’s eyes drop to my lips.
I want to climb into this man’s lap so bad, it almost hurts.
“We can shoot,” he finally says, interrupting my thoughts. “But we don’t have to get up that early. Let’s meet in the kitchen at eight.”
I nod and stand, then start to pick up our mess from dinner.
“Leave it. I’ll get it.”
“I don’t mind—”
“Good night, Lena.”
With a sigh, I take my own plate to the kitchen, then offer him a wave as I walk through to the stairs and up to my room.