Page 63 of Power Play

Chapter Nineteen

Trey

“What are you doing here?”

Ignoring the beta team member's question, I turn to close and lock the door. I wince at the dented, crumbling section of wall behind it. I need to remember to have that fixed. It was my fault, after all. Normally I keep a tight leash on my anger, keeping it from boiling over—unlike earlier. But Shawn fucking Whit shoved me headfirst over the threshold of my normal hold on that dangerous emotion.

What he said wasn't so much the issue; the disrespect toward Randi was what pushed me past my normal control. She might not have caught it, but I sure fucking did.

I give my head a small shake. Today was a disaster, which morphed into an even bigger disaster at the debate. It couldn’t have gone worse for Randi. There's little doubt that the way I left things messed with her concentration.

I'm an idiot. An asshole and an idiot.

If she loses because of me….

“I need to talk to her,” I say, turning back toward the living room. One guy sits on the couch, the rest of the team outside in the hall or downstairs at all the entry points.

“Not sure that's a good idea,” the guy says with a laugh. “Birmingham just left. I heard every word. He ripped her a new one. If I were her, I'd be in there packing my bags with my damn tail between my legs.”

I don't suppress my deep groan.

This apology will be expensive. Even something from Tiffany's might not make up for the last twelve hours.

Earlier, I retreated, not ready to admit why Shawn's words and insults to Randi hit deep. I needed a few hours to process it alone. Could I have told her all that so she didn't have to wonder all day? Yeah, but at the time, the rage clouded my vision; all I could see was my own pain.

“Tank asked me to come up and talk about tomorrow.” Lie. “We need to go over a few things, so I might be a while.” Truth. “Take a break. I've got this for a few hours.”

He shrugs and lies back on the couch. “Don't have to tell me twice. Thanks, Benson.”

Hand on the doorknob to the bedroom, I pause. Nervous energy builds, my chest tightening.

She has to forgive me.

I don't knock. With a quick twist of the knob and a push of the door, I step into her bedroom. Grief permeates the air, smacking me in the face. Each breath deepens the regret filling my chest.

“Randi.” Not taking my eyes off where she's perched on the edge of the bed, I reach back, closing the door and flicking the lock. She doesn't acknowledge me, her eyes glued to the opposite wall. “Mess.” Each step is tentative, careful, like I'm approaching a wounded animal. Technically I guess I am. Her, the most fascinating woman I've ever met, me, the one who hurt the insecure person she hides beneath the Political Barbie mask.

“What do you want, Benson?”

I cringe. Benson, not Trouble. Hell, not even Trey. Not a good sign.

Determination propels me forward, sitting me beside her. The bed dips, rocking her an inch closer.

“I wanted to check in on you.” She huffs, her eyes rolling to the ceiling. “To apologize.”

“Little late for that, don't you think?” She shoves her hands on the bed, pushing herself up. Slowly she turns to face me, meeting my pleading gaze for the first time since I entered the room. “You saw the debate?” Her shoulders slump. “I lost us the election tonight.” Her eyes, brightened to a perfect green by the stupid contacts Kyle makes her wear, look to the ceiling. “I'm ruined. I'll have to go back home, failing again.” Her gaze is still upturned as a single tear trickles down her cheek.

Pain like I've never experienced cuts through my chest, piercing my heart.

“It's too late. You left when all I needed was an explanation. You left me, confused, angry….” Her throat bobs. “Hurt. Fucking hell, Trey. You hurt me by not caring enough to stay and tell me what the hell all that between you and Shawn was. I didn't care—I don't care—what he says. I know every word out of his mouth has an agenda, some form of power play.” Pain, anger, and, the worst, disappointment cloud her beautiful face when she finally looks back down. “You don't owe me anything. This, what we did in the park, the flirting back and forth, you don't owe me anything, but what hurt was that you didn't even stop to think I deserved an explanation. You just walked out, making me feel….” She stomps her foot against the carpet. “You made me feel as worthless as everyone else has my entire life.”

I don't think, only react to the ripping, shredding of my heart.

Reaching out, I yank her into my arms, holding her close, squeezing her tight.

“I'm sorry,” I plead into her hair. “Fuck, I'm sorry.” Her shoulders shake. I tighten my hold. “Tell me what to do. Tell me what to say, what to buy. I'm so sorry, Mess. I fucked up. I couldn't… I didn't know how to…. It was me. All me. I was so angry at Shawn, I couldn't think past the need to beat the shit out of him.”

Her soft dark hair slides beneath my palm as I stroke it over and over. With each breath, I apologize all over again. Time slows; nothing outside of the woman in my arms matters. Eventually her breaths even out, the shoulder-racking sobs ceasing.

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