Page 57 of The Prez

“Why?” I ask, wondering what I missed.

He huffs a laugh that turns into a sob. “Because I miss him. I miss my boyfriend.” Then Pete really breaks, hugging the pillow tight as agonized wails leave his throat.

Without thought, I pull him into my arms, hugging him as he releases all the pent-up pain. Even still, he hugs the pillow with Christian’s shirt to his chest.

How did I not see this? How did they keep it hidden from everyone?Whydid they keep it hidden? It’s not like we’re a homophobic bunch and they had to keep their relationship a secret. Why did they not tell anyone?

This must be why Pete has taken Christian’s death so hard. We’ve all been struggling with him not being here with us anymore, but I did find it odd that Pete was so torn up. They were close, but not as close as me and Christian were.

Well, that’s not exactly true, is it?

I keep my arms around Pete until he’s hiccupping and taking deep breaths. It takes me a moment to realize Pete fell asleep.

Sighing, I ease him from my lap and tuck him into bed, making sure the pillow is under his head. We need to talk, but it can wait until after he’s gotten some rest. From the looks of it, he hasn’t gotten nearly enough.

Stepping into the hall, I pull my phone out and shoot a quick text to Jace.

Me: Got Pete. He’s asleep, but I’m gonna hang out until he wakes up so we can talk.

Jace: Where are you? I can come sit with you.

My finger is poised over the keypad to tell Jace I’m at Christian’s, but I stay my hand. This probably ain’t something Pete wants everyone to know right now. If I weren’t so up in my head, allowing muscle memory to drive me around town, I wouldn’t know either. This was obviously a secret and I’ll keep it that way until Pete wants to tell or it endangers the club.

Me: Nah, I got it.

I slide my phone back in my pocket and exhale harshly. Then I go to the living room and slide down to the floor.

Christian and Pete. I never pegged either of those as being into each other. They were a lot alike. Pete’s a bit younger, in his early thirties, but he’s a smart guy, like Christian was. Has his head on straight and is a loyal son of a bitch. They fit. It’s probably one of the reasons Pete was interested in tattooing. Christian worked as a piercer in Reaper’s tattoo parlor. I’m sure Pete was interested in working there to be closer to his man.

That’s a fucking head trip, Pete dating Christian. I needanswers on why they thought they couldn’t tell the club and why Pete didn’t ask for some help dealing with his feelings about shit after Christian died. And most of all, I need to know what the fuck happened to his face.

Blowing out a long, tired breath, I pull my phone back out and text Omari. Dios, this man is why I’m staying sane. Going home to him and Little Raf is what keeps me going every day with so much shit on my mind. Seeing them when I get home after a long day immediately puts me at ease.

Every night Omari presses himself against me, his warm weight grounds me and keeps my head in the present when the nightmares threaten to pull me back. His touch, his taste, his voice, his everything just … makes me feel better than I have in years.

My finger stops above the keyboard as realization hits me. No. It can’t be. Can I be … in love with my nanny?

Well, he’s more than that. He’s mine, so I guess it’s not an unheard-of concept. But it’s fast. In the grand scheme of things, I’ve only known Omari for two months.

But Omari doesn’t know everything. I haven’t told him what a fucking failure I am. He reassures me that I didn’t fail him since I didn’t know that Brock bitch was a threat, but I knew Papa was. I failed my mother and, by extension, Elena. I can’t burden Omari with my feelings then tell him that. He’ll leave me and Little Raf.

I’ll tell him what happened soon and then he can decide if he wants my love or he wants to leave.

Deciding to dwell on that at a later time, I shoot off a quick text to Omari.

Me: Hey. I might be late getting home. I’m with Pete and he ain’t doin’ too good. I’ll keep you updated.

Then I add another quick text.

Me: Are you okay?

The dots are already dancing at the bottom of the screen when I send the second text.

Omari: That’s okay. Is he okay?

Omari: And I’m fine. Me and Little Raf are hanging out with Brian still. He says someone else will be coming over to relieve him soon.

Me: Sounds good. Pete will be okay.

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