Page 25 of Capitally Engaged

“You’re not working on stuff for the senator late into the night, right?” I spoke into the darkness after an hour or so of failed sleep.

Jax let out a squeak. The sound of covers rustling made me think her computer slid off her lap. “I didn’t know you were still awake.”

I let out a low chuckle. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you. But he’s not working you this hard already, right?”

“Like someone’s tenure would have any impact on the amount of work that man assigns you. But no, this isn’t for the senator.”

I waited a beat to see if she would continue. She didn’t.

“Not going to share what youareworking on?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think I am. What are you still doing up? Don’t you have to be at the airport in... wow, four hours? I didn’t realize it was that late.”

I nodded before I remembered she couldn’t see me. “Yeah, ass crack of dawn is Mitchell’s preferred time to travel. I just don’t sleep well the night before a trip.” This part of me stayed hidden from anyone outside my family. Telling Jax felt right somehow, like it might throw a grappling hook over one of her walls. I tentatively dangled a thread to sharing out there, wondering if Jax would take the bait.

She did. “Oh. Afraid you’ll miss your alarm?”

“I’m pretty trained to snap awake to the sound of beeping at this point. I mentioned that my mom died when I was pretty young?”

Jax was quiet for a moment. “Yeah, I remember.” Her voice was gentle.

“She had been sick for a while, but had been home from her latest hospital stay for a few weeks. My fifth-grade class was scheduled to take an overnight trip to visit the Boston aquarium. Both she and my dad really wanted me to go. It had been a hard time, and they wanted me to have some normalcy, I guess.”

“And let me guess, you were super into sharks?”

I laughed. “Iwassuper into sharks. How did you know?”

“Most ten-year-old boys are really into some sort of deadly animal at that age. I took a guess.”

“But anyway, my mom died in her sleep that night, while I was on the trip. Logically, I know now that being home wouldn’t have meant I got to say goodbye any differently than I had when giving her a kiss and hug before leaving for my trip. Ten-year-old me had a lot of trouble with that concept. It took a long time before I wanted to spend a night away from home, away from my brothers and dad.”

“I’m sorry. I promise I know firsthand how empty those words can feel, but I really do mean it. My parents died in a car accident when I was thirteen. I went to live with my grandma, who was great, but died when I was in college. That feeling you have of never wanting to leave home? I... I guess I try to never get comfortable enough to call a place home.”

The darkness enveloped us in relative silence. Ambient noise from the street and the brown noise app kept us from counting the breaths that passed until someone spoke again. Something about darkness made secrets slip out easily, gave you courage to let someone else see a part of who you really are.

“I have to ask,” Jax said, breaking the quiet. “If you struggle so much with traveling and being away from home, why a politician? They spend half of their lives traveling.”

An amused huff of air left me. I knew being a reporter wasn’t Jax’s true calling, but she had a knack for getting to the meat of an issue. “I promise, I’m a lot better than I used to be. Therapy helped some. Being a politician is because of my mom too, though. She was civically minded, always involved in helping her community and keeping up to date on elections and issues. She gave me my first Electoral College lesson, helping me color in the map red and blue after everyone else went to bed.

“And then after she died, we relied a lot on different community services to make ends meet. My dad was left with not only five sons to care for, but a mountain of medical debt too. That all sort of compounded into this desire to fight for others, make a difference. So here I am.”

If anyone could see me, I knew my cheeks would be flushed pink. This may be the first time I ever told someone outside my family about the ties my mom had to my drive as a politician. What started as a desire to expose a bit of myself and gain back some of the distance Jax had put between us became a major share fest.

“That’s what’s going to make you one of the good ones. You’re in it for the right reasons. But you should try to sleep. I imagine the senator is one of the working travelers, not much for sky naps.” A click from Jax shutting her laptop traveled across the bookshelf separating us.

“You’re not wrong about that. Thanks for listening.”

“You’re welcome,” she whispered, as if talking in a loud voice would disturb me from dropping off.

I readjusted on the couch, finally feeling like sleep might not evade me. As my eyes grew heavier, I finally fell asleep.

All too soon, the beeping of my alarm sounded from the coffee table. I silenced it as quickly as I could and lay still, hoping I had cut it off before it woke Jax. Not hearing any movement from the bed, I quietly got up and headed to take a shower. I had laid the clothes I would need for the trip out the night before, and my packed bag waited by the door, trying to reduce disruptions at the ungodly hour.

The apartment was still too dark to make out anything beyond a covered lump in my bed in the corner as I prepared to meet the car scheduled to take me to the airport. I looked in that direction anyway, filled with something that tasted a lot like regret. Jax and I shared a lot of ourselves last night in those wee morning hours. I hated I would be gone for almost a week, worried the progress that sharing created would be washed away by the distance.

I closed the door behind me and made my way to the elevator, an idea taking hold. I texted Laurel with my plan, knowing her do not disturb settings meant her phone wouldn’t ping at this absurd hour. Tucking my phone away, the strain of leaving reduced knowing something to look forward to waited for my return.

I hoped Jax would like my surprise. I thought of her voice in the darkness last night, the understanding, the empathy, the interest that bled into her side of the conversation. Hopefully she would be comfortable in the apartment with me gone this week. We hadn’t really talked about it. I wondered if we’d talk while I was away.

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